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Music is the air
And listening ears my heart.
If I'm deaf, I'm dead.
I don't want cruelty
I don't want pain without purpose
I don't want my eyes to water from a heart left dry

I don't crave some deliberate infliction
I don't long for hidden scars that never heal

I don't search for loaded words
I don't prepare for harmful intentions
I don't seek a path that pushes me underground

I don't look for confusion
I don't desire confined spaces
I don't enjoy advantage at another's disadvantage
And I don't give out points to those who play with dishonesty
You and I are like the ends
of shoelaces.

Twisting and dancing
on the surfaces we know.

Sometimes our paths will cross
and one might seem higher
than the other.

Things always come around
as life leaves us the holes
to fit through.

This far into our journey
we seem so far apart.

Our dance through life will see
us collide together and
let the knot be tied at last.

I may end up on your side
and you upon mine,
but that is how two crossed threads
seem to wind up when they return
again as one.
A quick word
about Beneath the Surface
by Dream Theater.  

The song is beautiful
first and foremost.  Depressing
but beautiful.  But
it also scares me.  I don't want to
experience what it describes, but
I also have a horrible feeling
that it will eventually, inevitably happen.  

It'd be even worse
if it also happened to the other person
I'd be involved with.  Not only am I scared
for myself, but for them.
I don't want to be
abandoned, left in the dark
shrugged aside like a mute.
I hate to think that I'm capable
of doing the same thing
to someone else.  That scares me.
Ever become lost
until any desire to find
or be found
dies with the sunlight?

That shone world
suddenly distant,
further than
small dying memories.

Better to be
separate and away,
for I am not them.
I am not
you.

See, these eyes prefer
darkness,
the blank sheet challenging
to create light.
So shut them
to see.
What's up is the sky
and I'm up for the stars
and down for a cave expedition.

I'm game for a used copy
since time is literally killing me
while I got pizza in one hand
and an energy drink in the other
so the tree that is my life goes
chop chop chop.

The only chip on my shoulder
is a potato chip
because I got a dozen for every dime I spent,
which is a drop in the bucket of change
I'm saving for Coinstar.

My son Jack has made many trades,
from CDs to movies to videogames to trading cards
and he just so happens to be a Pokemon master, thank you very much.

Resisting a piece of cake
is no piece of cake,
even when the recipe
--complete with a photogenic picture--
is comprised of over a thousand words.
Don't cheat on your diet,
the spinach is always watching
and that Rolex will feel so tight
you'll be praying for thousands
of slaps on both wrists.

When things get hot
you can bang against a clock
to see how long you last.
Just don't crack 'em up too much,
clocks are fragile devices.

My motor's a Cobia
yours is an Evinrude
but otherwise we're in the same boat.

Whenever I fail I don't go to the drawing board,
I get out my scrap book.
I prefer its texture and it is,
truly,
the first square.

When my frustration becomes too much
I might have to beat the bush instead,
after all
it can't be a sightseer forever.

Don't throw me a bone,
I'm not dog,
merely a curious cat
still on his seventh life.

I'd rather be close
than be stuck with a cigar--
smoking's bad and I hate the smells.
If I'm left with nothing, I'll cry like a wolf.
Wolves are hunters, wolves are survivors.
We
We poets
we love depression.
We don't desire it
we just gravitate towards it.
We seem so naturally fit
we can hardly think of a better couple.

We hate the trap it sets in place
we can't seem to avoid slipping in.
We lack that single, moral strength
we see and crave so much of.

We are obsessed and
we are loners, and
we wouldn't change that if
we could, for it is merely who
we are, who
we end up becoming, not what
we choose to be, simply an effect
we see in the cause of life.
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