Optimism, romanticism, fatalism
All with the smallest dash of realism mixed in.
I believe in kismet.
I believe in fate.
I believe in Destiny,
and all her wicked ways.

I believe in you.
And you.
And you.
And you.
I'm doing my best to believe in me, too.

I take rides and I take flights to get me out of my mind.
I have highs and I have lows and I move on to the next show.
Where's the time go? I'm moving too fast, and yet I'm always too slow
and I can't think and I can't eat and all my past goals become dead dreams
So I just ****, blow, drive, scream, give up on this scene
Find the inseam on my heart, see? Of course it's been broke. You see the stitching?
I'm not *******,  I'm not hoping or wishing for anything other than what this life is giving
me.

Life doesn't wait on anyone.
We've got to move to
the rhythm it wants.
Life doesn't play favorites.
It's luck of the draw
for life in the gutter or the ritz.

I keep on moving
and I keep my head held high
I figure why not?
We're all gonna die, some day.
So my advice to you is
do what you can while you can,
So at the end you can say
*******,
I lived a hell of a life.
I certainly lived one hell of a life.

So live a hell of a life,
Or live a life in hell.
The choice is yours,
I wish you well

I'm going to take a shower and then, this day is mine.
It may be 2 pm and yes, maybe I only woke up and hour ago, but that's fine.
Time is of no essence, holding no power over me and my kind.
See,  we hold the power to counter act fascist politics
While the media scours to keep one step ahead of the times
But keeps slipping further and further behind.
I may not know everything there is to know about the GOP nominees but
Believe you me, I'm doing better than 90% of the pop culture fiends
Who know everything there is to know about every song Lady Gaga sings.
That's not to bash all the little monsters, see I know a bit myself
As I like to stay abreast on all kinds of music, television,
Internet memes, university official ****** stings,
And a plethora topics categorized under the moniker "various other things".
Between you and me, I'm not sure there is a Heaven
And if there is a Hell we make it daily ourselves.
But that doesn't have to be the case.
We can rise up and grab onto the clouds, pull down the sky
And bring the idea of Heaven a little closer than simply reading a book
Found in the drawer at **** near every hotel ever could.
Now, that’s not to say I don’t believe in the Word
and that the word isn’t Good.
I’m only making a case for a proactive age and for doing and living the way that we should.
We were never called to preach to the sinners that they‘re going to hell in the first place.
I’m only stating that there is a mass information bank
Being lawlessly and shamelessly misinterpreted and misunderstood.  
What I am saying is we need to put a stop to injustice parading itself as truth—
In our schools, in the church, and in the hearts of our youth.  
Read with fervor and a bit of passion any book can hold the keys to a life worth living.
The Good Book is a good book, but…
God the father and his son Jesus would have got on well
With Bilbo Baggins and his nephew Frodo,
Who both understood that the war they fought was so much bigger than a silly ring. '
They would have seen the passion and pain behind the eyes of Wilber Larch and is protégé Homer Wells,
Who only wanted to help and had to make some tough decisions in order to do so.
And they would have been able to appreciate the selfless devotion of Severus Snape
And commend Harry Potter on his willingness to die for those he loved.
Because...
In the end—what’s the difference?
It’s the same story over and over
From the cradle to the grave,
From Genesis to Revelation
To my walls lined with posters—
They all contribute to the loops and the corkscrews
On the same roller coaster.
This whole charade called existence resting on the shoulders of nothingness is everything that we have,
So the quicker we learn to take the good with the bad the quicker we’ll realize that the things that we want
Are exactly the same as the things that we had and the things that we have.
Maybe all the moms and the dads of today are displeased with the direction we’re heading because
(though they’d never admit it)
It’s no different than where they were going and for some reason they thought it would be.
Open your eyes.
All I’m asking is for a little time.
A minute or so more, tops.  
I’m pulling out all the stops
And I’m laying my heart on the line in hopes that one day you will return the favor in kind.
Not to me. Maybe not even to anyone other than yourself, but that is enough.
I've seen some things I wish I hadn't.
I've been drunk and I’ve done drugs but I’ve never voted in a political election.  
I’m 20 years old without a clue of what it means to be a good person
But I refuse to let that stop me from being one.  
So I’m not going to get high tonight and I’m not going to sit around by myself in my room watching ****,
Which I’ll admit without shame I do sometimes when I’m bored.
Tonight I’m breaking the illusion and crossing the line
That separates me from who I want to be and who I was at one time.
I’m inviting you along, so come on, put away words like “was” and  “will be”
And replace them with “the present”, “living”, and “free”.  
Because that is all there ever was or will be—
We've been given the present for living and in that we’re free.

The space between the notes from the piano and the thoughts in my head,
Dancing for clarity, harmonious cooperation engage, thee I bade.
For my posture poses inquiries as my pulse proposes answers
And the prospect pulls eagerly at the corners of my consciousness..
Thrice kismet collide--Will, you, and I.

A softer understanding to provide strength with ease,
passion to separately seize, while love flows ever so free.

I am a dumpster.
I am a French cologne.
I am a ****** bike.
I am a ******* Rolls-Royce.
I am your first mistake.
I am your final truth.
I am nothing
And I am everything.
I am yours.
I am mine.
I bow to no one.
I sing your praise.
I can't move.
I'll never stop.
I am hell bound.
I am heaven sent.
I am revolting.
I am picture perfect.
I am.
I am.
I am.

What ever, however I am, I am
And I'll never be different.
But I'll never be quite the same.

There is a part of me that knows you'll always be my favorite song,
But there's a part of me that knows that I'll always remain a record player
While you transform and reform and expand and compress
And now you've become a ****** mp3.
While music is a universal language, our mediums have changed.
So my old fashioned needle and your new fangled  encoding do not coincide.
But you know what, you know something? That's fine.

I love you from the mountains,
I love you from the sea.
I love you full volume,
and I love you the smell of change.

For yesterday, tomorrow, today
I love you never in that order.
For today, yesterday, tomorrow I love you
Forever beyond always.

But  words shrivel and dry.
My 'love' must travel many miles,
Full dust and wind on face.
My 'love' must penetrate your 'over'
A thousand times a day.

But  'love' finds 'over' amusing.
It kind of laughs and shakes its head.
'love' knows  'over' is a product
Of a lexicon long dead.

Passion, promise, and pretense
are so far removed from what was ever meant.
Save my passion,
Withhold my promise,
and **** any and all pretense.

Move in and out and up and down,
But mostly move along.

Plethoratic memoria--
Este esta mi visión,
Becoming pictures and scenes in my mind,
As though from museums and movies.
  
Intimacies abound within thought processes
Incarcerated behind the bars of the prison cells
Playing public transportation between the synapses.

So many more words than are needed.
Not enough words in the world.
Words inspiring words inspiring
The colors, the visions, vitality--swirl.

Because I've come to see what "we" mean,
I can truly be me, for the first time as a man.
As "we" the two of us own happiness.
"We've" got a monopoly on joy;
And "we" are as powerful
As "you"
and "me".

Now that I'm not preoccupied by "us"
I can focus on me.
And now that there isn't an "us" to speak of,
You can get to know you.

There will always be "us's" and  there will always be "we's"
For you and others and others and me.
"Us's" and "we's"
Of you and of me.
Of others, of self, and sharing in peace.

It's constant, this rain.
It's been coming down forever.

The drops slide ever so easily down the window
Five stories up from the earth below.

It's been raining forever,
But not quite long enough.

To recall light, sun...
A dream state.

They tell us of its existence.
We experienced it once.

Did we?
Did we experience anything?

Anything at all?

We don't always understand the actions of the other.
All you know how to do is take care.
All I know is how to be taken care of.
It's time for me to learn to take care of someone else;
Time for you to take care of yourself for once.

Perhaps we always knew this was the outcome.
Perhaps we always knew this was how it would turn out.

What happens when a realist and a romantic fall in love?
You're smothered, I'm heartbroken but still alive, both.
What happens when two realists fall in love?
Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke,
One that you are living.

I'm running around in a fatalist's mess,
And you're running around to the tune
Of needing things to make sense.
We are both running around and around,
In patterns that I can't help but think resemble
The outer circles of hell.

But, the glint of sunshine comes with the rain.
I'm told that there's no water in hell.
So this wet October weather
That we are presently enduring
Is a glorious sign, promising the possibility of better days.

Lips that told secrets.
Ears that listened.
Minds that retained.
Never mentioned,
Ever present.

Eyes and glances
Fingertips and brushes
Faith and everything after.

If it stands to reason it's probably false.
If it can be explained there's no way it makes sense.
Just so you know, I think I'm going to be okay.

I had a dream where I cut my wrists,
And it felt fine.
And, I don't know why I dreamed
That some of the guys and I were running from the cops,
All I know is that we we escaped,
And I woke up without scars.

seeking the beauty found only in your embrace,
a task befitted only for a fool, or sage.
listening for your voice in the wind,
to hear it and to feel your breath on the breeze.

to acknowledge your existence
or deny it altogether
each a travesty in their right.

i can feel you smiling far away
and it brings me to tears ~ your happiness is everything
i can feel your heart breaking from the waiting
and my heart breaks too ~ still i haven't met you.

i'm a sage and a fool
on my way.