She's standing alone
Wondering when the day will come when she
Hears his voice again
Feels his touch on her skin
And she
Yearns for his love
His acceptance 
That one thing only he
Can give her
He's sitting alone
Thinking about the day when he can kiss her
That day when he gets to 
Hold her in his arms
He misses her touch on his chest
That
Way she whispers his name
So loving
So honestly happy
They're two of a kind
Just kids being kids
Really teens 
Not wanting to leave those
Innocent childhood memories behind
They're killing time
Wasting days
Throwing away the thought of 
Growing up
Now
They're spending their days in each others hearts
Looking
Searching for that one thing they both want
Finding it when they look in the others eyes
They found love in two children that
Haven't yet happened
They dreamt of times when
It was all that would matter
Those two kids refusing to grow up, found love in each other
Now they're killing time, wasting days, refusing to grow up together

By the looks of it,
The moon was lacking on
its dim, the window had no
curtains, there was so
much potential, we
touched it with our
tongues, when the cord
unplugged itself
from the wall

He asked me if I believed in god today
And I smiled
And stirred my coffee
And shrugged off the question
And avoided his gaze.

I walked home today
Twisting the ring on my finger
Listening to the music in the distance
Someone's playing a piano on the street
And I sat next to an old man and listened.

He drew on his pant leg with a marker
And looked wistfully at the sky
Holes in his hat and
No shoes on his feet
And I asked him if he believed in god

He looked at me
With a wrinkled face that had seen many lives
And pointed to the ******* the piano
And smiled at me
And said "This is god", and nothing more

So there I sat
With an old man and a little ******* the piano
And my feet were hot
So I gave him my shoes
And bid him adieu

So I walked back home
And looked him in the eyes
And said I met god
And he looked at me
And we went on with our lives

Naked pictures of God on my nightstand,
Dry bones of Moses painted on my button down shirt screaming,
“to be or not to be” is not an English word.
In the daze of the thoughts of Neurology, I saw a man kick a bucket full of Starbucks giftcards down the avenue street. He screamed in pain as he watched the bucket tumble and roll down the street, blessing every Bohemian with a slight cold.

Naked pictures of God on my nightstand,
I dreamt about a land before man where the Oxygen that sprang from the pores of flowers
sang a sweet death. Where dishwashers are saints, for afterall, man will not be if not for food.
Where books are written not to be read, but for the sake of Orange trees that will grow in the future.
I once wore a poker face to a funeral and laughed at the man in the casket because the souls he had underneath him were two left feet.

*We all once had naked pictures of God on our nightstands but lost it after Einstein  
Lost the fried chicken war of 1812 to Isaac Newton.

I spent over a hundred dollars
just on chocolate
for her
last year

every once in a while
i'd surprise her
with one of those organic peanut butter bars
she liked

i'd buy em from aldriches
during photography
or video productions

never told her where i got them
because they gave her something
to depend on me for

i never tasted a single bit of that chocolate
i haven't been aldriches in months

and i haven't gotten one of those thankful hugs
since that last one
in july
that was half kiss, half hug
and less thankful, more lovestruck
but also silent, tear filled, melancholy, foreboding

that was after i bought her reeses,
the only time e ever went to qfc together

i don't buy chocolate anymore
i've saved alot of money lately

but i've lost so many hugs,
avoid half this town
and no one relying on me like that

she was my life
it's time for a new one



©Brandon Webb
2012

O Matsushima!
O Matsushima!
O Matsushima!