Awkward would be the word to describe me...
Around you.

And I don't mean physically,
around you...
Like two bodies intertwined.
I mean emotionally...
I am emotionally wrapped around you.
Like a reader to a page turning  novel
a singer to their next note,
All of these things float-
On my awkwardness of you.

It feels like snow in the summertime
A funeral on your birthday-
The moment when you're afraid to let go
But yet,
You have a reason to celebrate.

It feels so right
And yet so very wrong
Something that makes you question everything
And God only knows I question everything.

I've never been so awkward-
I feel like a boy who hasn't grown into his arms-
Like a swimming pool that sits without water,
Kind of like the circle yes-or-no thing.

I guess if awkward is what I'll have to be
Is it fair to say I'm growing?
These feelings are unfamiliar
I know who I am-
But maybe this,
Is who I'm supposed to be...

my nose is the pointer
as i explore your skin;
like
fingertips
on a brand new piece of paper...

the trace of skin on skin
forces breath to speed
as my lips search for their final resting place.

I think poets are aliens… from another planet
I mean, we must be
You have to be off your rocker to get it, to understand it…
I mean, is it just me…
That sees it?
The way we took grammar, complicated as they made it...
And blew the rules to the wind, we decided to ‘breeze’ it
We made up our own… and as a sensible man...
I can say, they don’t even need to make sense
Because they are what they are… poetic and intense
I really think we are not human though… I'm being serious about this
We go around seeing through a third eye
I know because I am about this
And we are crazy I tell you
We see the art in everything
We probably came up with the phrase ‘an about kiss’…
Or an 'almost kiss'… whatever
‘It’s either a kiss or it’s not, it’s as simple as that’...
The rest of society thinks… oh, but the poet would have none of that
We are weird I tell you
Us artistic types
We open our minds to anything and everything
We even befriend the mystic types
We would take it there… or allow our curiosity to take our minds anywhere
We would experiment to a point where we’re tripping out
We would… and you know it, just as long as it’s something to write about
This creativity thing is like a super power… **** it!
I rest my case… arrest me and take me back to my mother planet.

Your heart has been broken and so has mine.
Many times over by the same punch line.
You act so strong and stand so tall.
I smile real big yet feel so small.
But when destiny allows our paths to cross,
The affect of this broken heart becomes our greatest loss.
Numbing our emotions so we can't feel.
Denying this beautiful connection which could heal.
The words in my mouth taste stale and old.
While you become too realistic and cold.
We don't fall freely as we had before,
Because the pieces of our hearts are still falling to the floor.

I'll sway and I'll swim in the sea of your heart.
Then dive deep into that dark hidden part.
Where the treasures have gathered over the years.
Your passion and desire stored under your fears.
This sea held the terrors and struggles you faced in your days.
Then drowned them under piles of rough waves.
Keeping your world in the storm on the sea.
You protect your waters with ice bergs and the navy.
But I swayed with your current and came in with the tide.
Rested on your shore then took on your stride.
The sea in your heart cleansed my soul free.
I held my breath but your sea allowed me to breath.
Under the raging waters I saw the life that you hid.
It was beautiful and precious but to others you forbid.
Slowly the storms cleared and the sun began to shine.
I belonged in your sea and your sea was all mine.

And tonight I sit here in front of thiis screen
wondering what actions my mind will let my body perform
wondering what thoughts my body will let my mind think.
this is my downfall, the reason I will be trampled
by my peers as they become real people.
more than the way I have been bred;
to have no opinions
to not  talk
to have no life.
more than that intraceable bit of laziness;
this is my downfall
The fact that I've always been two people,
a body and a mind.
And they are  always fighting,
themselves as much as each other.
both are like a transplanted *****,
fighting the other
but i have no medication.
so most nights i just sit here and watch me fight with myself.
neither ever wins
and sometimes I think half a person is better than both.
This has taken place forever
since i was first tall enough to see my ugly face in a mirror
and my mind revolted from it
and so for every second since
my mind has turned my body toward the mirror
and my mind has turned my body the other way.
but neither love themselves:
my body has left countless scars on itself
and my mind screams at itself so loudly sometimes
that other thoughts are impossible.
This is why I'm broken
why I spend five hours awake just sitting
with a pile of homework
that grows
and grows
and grows
sitting in front of me.
and i stare at it
as three wars continue within me.
I stay still so as not to wake the armies
so I don't lose
but the piles growing
and I'm losing as i sit here

I wonder
as I sit bathed in the half light from the lonely bulb left on in the kitchen,
the dog the only other person awake;
does she feel anything for me,
any bit of what I feel for her?
am I even a thought in her head before she falls asleep?
like she often is for me.
Am I anything to her?
She is the one I avoid writing about
for fear that she will see it, she this.
this is only the second poem I've written about her.
but, wherever you are at this moment,
I want you to know,
before I go to sleep
that tonight, like most nights
you will appear, even just momentarily in my thoughts before i fall asleep
The time I save for positive thoughts
and hopes for the future.
and that hope is simple:
that you're hoping that I'm thinking about you as I'm falling asleep