Lightning strikes and shifts high above our never.
Time flows like a river standing out in delight.  
There is more power within ideas
pressing against the throat of morning;
filling your life’s cup with wonder,
than when dusk stands alone
dressed only
in feathered flight.

You cannot pry open the fingers of flight
make them advance any higher
even if you want to know
about time that’s passed.
Twisting and turning you will begin falling,
until what you want to be
sweeps across this land.  
Take my hand
perhaps we will learn
the truth at last.

Last night you looked better
than the first time I met you.
All the while familiar feelings
sank into our sleep.
Madness streams into a waterfall of self,
full of imperfection.
Where comfort causes passion
to stretch tenderly
into each word you kiss,
when our talk
runs ever deep.

All the tears that fall between rocks
surrounding your loneliness
want you to try hard
feel nothing at all.
They glisten as they attempt to become
lost inside your stubborn heart.
Forever tells me these tears
will continue as trails on faces,
and be heard as thunder
when they fall.

Going back out,
that's what he fears most.
To resume his last
miserable drunk,
homeless, loveless, broke.
Scratching up money for a fifth
of whatever he's drinking
- ***** when he's semi-flush,
cheap wine when he's not.

Lacking the guile to beg or steal,
he washes dishes in a dive
for a meal and a bottle,
sweeps out bars for drinks,
knowing he can't hold a job
much longer than a day.
Scavenging cigarette butts
from barroom trash cans.
No place to get out of the cold
except for the missions
and flop houses.

And he hates the flop houses
with their toothless managers
spreading their ****-eating grins.
He dreads the city winter
as the cold seeps in and wraps
its tendrils around him,
and he fears seeing one more
sooty gray dawn with grizzled men
like himself mindlessly shuffling,
searching for the next drink.

He fears the back alleys,
fears he's destined
to live in their filth, huddled
in whatever hole or box he can find.
No longer caring for himself,
just craving alcohol.
That insatiable craving.
And it's the grayness he fears,
the empty, pallid expanse
of his remaining years
and losing people who
used to love him.

He's frightened of going out
and not coming back.
And he fears thoughts of suicide.
He has no answers to why he drinks,
why he gives in to the bottle.
His mind cannot or will not grasp
that final thought.
---

I could write you the most beautiful poem you'd ever read
Or compose the most harmonious song you'd ever listen.

I could tell you,
That I want you so bad.

But I won't.



I could tell you,

That your hair moves like water, flowing gently,
Waving, like the ocean, full of passion,
Both aggresive and kind at the same time.
It's hard to ignore such an hypnotic motion.
And you could fear it, 'cause you know you might drown,
It could pull you down into the deepest,
Darkest abyss in the sea, where the sun never shines.
Or it could swing you gently, make you feel free,
Take you somewhere else, to a place you've never been before,
Full of new emotions and sensations.

But I won't.



I could tell you,

That I'm addicted to your stare and your smile
Because everytime I look into your eyes,
I can see that shy, sweet, happy little girl.
Because I don't JUST SEE your smile,

I feel it.

Like a warm hug that embraces my soul.
And I don't want to look away, no.
I wonder, what would it be like to touch you then?
Would I burn if the hug was physical?
Will I burst into flames with the simple contact of our skin?
What if you could read my thoughts?
What if you could feel like I feel?

But I won't.



I could tell you,

That there's not a single day in wich
The thought of you doesn't cross my mind,
In wich I don't torture myself wondering where you are.
And I've died so many times waiting,
Fighting against the voices inside of my head.
Where? When? Who? And Why?
I have more questions than answers.

But I won't.



I could tell you,

That your're beautiful, amazing, friendly,
Unique, special, sweet, gentle, honest,
Humble, funny, charismatic, gracious,
Fabulous, brilliant, sincere, authentic,
Fascinating, extraordinary, charming,
Goodhearted, generous, peaceful,
Gorgeous, truthful, brave, courageous
Priceless, precious, wise, attractive.
So many things, that you'd probably get bored.
Simply perfect.

But I won't.



Why not?

Because I'm not brave like you,
And I'm afraid of where these words might lead.


Will you stay or will you leave?

She's dancing in his eyes of misery,
Twirling around the floorboards,
Like a fruit ripening off a tree.
She's balanced in his gaze,
Hovering above the waves and pulses
Beating through the planks of wood
Built on this foundation of land.
He wants what he can't have,
And she is the reviving water
Stored underneath cactus ******
That he can't drink.
His hand is not hers to hold
And her dress is not his to touch.
His misery will flourish,
The distance of strangers.

The two voices speaking
Rapid faints
Like the worker boys behind darkened scenes
Lovers quiet
We could hear you
Gasping up for air
Swiftly sounding in the sheets deep close in despair
Why were you there
Why could I fear
The dying drums of living souls
Beating down upon my ribs
Feeling violence
Seeking silence
Among those fleeting
So drowned and

Why was I the sips so deep
Beneath the bottle
That called you mine
You were what once
Was inside
My hearts beating cloud
To represent them aloud
You weren’t scared
Were you sacred
Were you lost in doubt
Or were thoughts tried
For fleeing blessed cries
We all knew
But I kept quiet
As you spoke her
Last remaining sighs

Where was your mind
As I passed by your streaming sidelines
Glancing few at the moments left
As a clock counted down
The remaining minutes of your depth
Of field below my body, my fingertips
Her thighs and smiles and swollen lips

Who was it you looked at, her or I?
Who was it to bite the sweet
Apple of your eye.