these emotions,
they don't run deep.
as pointless as rain falling in the sahara,
never enough to penetrate the mass of barren surface.
like puddles scattered on pavement,
never to be absorbed through the thick stone.
these emotions,
they're not connected.
as pointless as trying to tie down a cloud,
never enough substance to catch the thing you desire.
like a lost grip on a helium balloon,
never to find its way back to the ground.
these emotions,
they're hollow.
drilling holes that remain empty.
these emotions,
they are shallow.

Honesty is a luxury... but not many people would buy it.
The view of the end of your own nose costs more than most know.
Up in the air or down at your toes, your soul see's something you do not.
Honesty is a luxury... but not many people would buy it.
Throwing lies into a game of heads or tails, setting your values so low.
Naivety and cynicism is the road sought.
Honesty is a luxury, but its not something you willing bought.
Stop the charade, just own your facade, those people you fooled, in your lies they did the rot.
Festering and lingering, your words of false they did hear...forget the person you did once appear.
honesty is a luxury that many people would not buy.
that's why you're still here, because most believe the lie.

When did I become so bitter?
Used to be the guy seeing a bag and pick up the litter,
now I watch it blow by,
less of a smile and more of a sigh,
my kid, my teenage self would never want to be this guy,
singing loudly used to be a habit,
now I just write sad poems on a laptop or tablet,
not the type you come to,
because all my colors are gone cept for blue,
what happened to you?
when did I become so sad?
instead of always seeing good,
now its just all bad,
not optimistic nor real,
just writing to make me feel,
but it doesnt help like i need it,
I used to finish a poem and sigh off the ****,
but now I'm consumed bit by bit,
by this world,
by my life,
by my past,
used to smile while finishing last,
dreaming was a hobby and I would want to sleep,
now I run away from dreams and stay awake till the alarm goes beep
when did I get so bitter?
used to take care of drunk friends like a sitter,
now the days are gone and I'm drinking alone,
waiting by the phone,
but not answering the call,
I used to see girls and feel my heart stall,
and smile when they looked my way,
now their eyes look and say,
what happened to you?
Why am I so bitter?

In love they wore themselves in a green embrace.
A silken rain fell through the spring upon them.
In the park she fed the swans and he
whittled nervously with his strange hands.
And white was mixed with all their colours
as if they drew it from the flowering trees.

At night his two finger whistle brought her down
the waterfall stairs to his shy smile
which like an eddy, turned her round and round
lazily and slowly so her will
was nowhere—as in dreams things are and aren't.

Walking along avenues in the dark
street lamps sang like sopranos in their heads
with a voilence they never understood
and all their movements when they were together
had no conclusion.

Only leaning into the question had they motion;
after they parted were savage and swift as gulls.
asking and asking the hostile emptiness
they were as sharp as partly sculptured stone
and all who watched, forgetting, were amazed
to see them form and fade before their eyes.