Reassured by your passion forget all the strife.
Pick up your board and skate away life.

The hoods go up, the bandanas come out.
Their day really starts, when the sun goes down.
Geared up with paint, backpacks are full.
Armed not only with colors, but triggers to pull.

No stops in the stairwell, it's straight to the top.
Hope you grabbed your inhaler, in case of the cops.
The last couple steps are slathered in ice.
Their will to go higher it really entices.

Reaching the rooftop, the flashlights go off.
But the rooftop itself just isn't enough.
Steel rails to trail, the water tower is their peak.
Their names and their tags, voices to speak.

So when the city looks up, from I-75.
Their beacon of art, is kissing the sky.

There was no incandescent light.
The energy was ****** and the bulb itself was rendered useless.
Burnt out.
But some thoughts are effortless and natural.
Some ideas stem from concept.
Open a window and sunshine pours in.
Open your mind and you'll receive much more than sunshine.

A possible proverb.
A lover's tradition.
Initialed and locked.
The key ammunition.
Said to be permanent.
For two love birds glue.
Symbolically secured.
Naturally construed.

I still dream about you.
It's a place we still talk and know one another.
A place where your hand still finds the small of my back,
even in subtle conversation.
I haven't forgotten the depth of your heart or the beauty of your soul.
Though I'm quite certain you'd never find yourself here,
it's still as if you never left.

A bench isn't much of a bench,
when there's no one to have a seat.
Dreams are just dreams,
when reality is said to defeat.

They don't care about what you want,
or care about what you need.
They're looking at your ghost town,
with a need to be freed.

They retreat to where they parked,
just a ways down the street.
The silence is so very loud,
but still remains discrete.

When the colors have faded,
and the fire burns out.
And the people are gone....
you become the drought.

She's never been more planted, more set in stone.
Severely tangled roots right down to the bone.
It's a dreamers world, a playground if you may.
To wish all the worries and cares right away.

Where a laugh echoes mildly, there's no sparkle-less eye.
Where the heart beats so loudly it can't be denied.
Where we stem from and grow the bark on our backs.
Where we challenge ourselves with relentless attacks.

But we bud and bare fruit by trial and error.
Only seeds from mistakes have power of terror.
If you seek good weather and nourish your mind.
You become the one that's so rare to find.

An angel is supposed to guard,
here she sits while her beloved forever sleeps.
A concrete face, a whispered lullaby,
while loved ones grieving weep.

The tombstone stuffed animal,
just another soulless face.
A way in which to remember you,
by someone elses grace.

But your memory meant so much more to me,
than an ornament cast in stone.
The featured wings can't calm a visit,
when I'm standing here alone.

Broken windows
and opened doors.
Chipped paint
and faulty floors.
A rusted ****
and restless yellow.
A shadows moment
in an empty hello.
A different view
hidden corners.
A little light
from too nice of a foreigner.
A promise here
forgotten there.
The damsel in distress.
Beware.

I traveled several seas of no where dreams.
To a paradise that existed only between destinations.  
You could find me, if you time me, but I'll never stay too long.
For tomorrow is not promised.
I'm running out of daylight.

The flower that lives with adversity is only vulnerable until it blooms.

I've seen them come
I've seen them go.
The aftermath
of a heartless show.
They're steps ahead
while you're steps behind.
Their echoing footsteps
your peace of mind.
Rewind, rewind,
rewind, repeat.
Eventually
you're alone with defeat.
Unless you change
your way of thought.
And learn self love
is where love is taught.

I looked for you..
at the bottom of every empty bottle.
I lined them up and waited
for you to reappear and swallow.
I knew you had a secret stash
a different bar I didn't know.
But still I sat here wishing, thinking,
maybe you'd come home.

The horizon above the concrete grid
a hardened trail of an upward fleet.
The snow that starves the Earth of green
and leaves left crumbled beneath our feet.
Will our paths ever cross?
Will they ever meet?
You've never seen these stairs
You don't know where to greet.
Type.
Delete.
Type.
Delete.
Type:
Retreat.

I counted sheep but they stopped flocking
the stars flickering I connect the dots.
My own demise and it's not shocking
all these plans but no said plot.

A few heavy notches later
and the headboard comes crashing down.
Between the sheets and clutter
a bit of clarity was found.

A twinkle in an eye at large
but never stays for more than a minute.
A fella' thinking he's in charge
but he's not, I never finish.