I think:
the hammer blows of love
will always be glancing.
Chipping my soul sideways.

But I know:
that if I'm ever struck full-force,
I shall surely shatter.

I watch a sunrise behind an old abandoned church in my home-town
I haven't slept for two nights
the crystal clear beauty of the sleep-deprived
the jaw aching beauty of the pink sky
almost hurts my eyes
the irony I see reflected back at me
how such a daring light could hide behind
a cowardly institution
My thoughts are crisp and clear
after two nights of no sleep
and I cant describe
I cannot describe what I see
But its there behind my eyelids
when I close them shut
I am dreaming of tomorrow
But tomorrow never comes.
I am closer to god when I am sleepless
Though I'm not sure I believe in god when I am awake
like all things are during suffering
and the sky is just a canvas
for me to whisper my thoughts to
I paint his hands in the shape of clouds
under this red sky at morning
They hold nothing
and nothing holds them
heavy hands and my heavy eyelids
both closed
open
wide
shut
he holds me in his hands
he holds the promise of tomorrow
I tell him tomorrow is a lie.

There's a lot of pain
down the drain
of the tunnel that's known as my heart.
Too much to take?
I'll take a break
deep in the shadows of dark.

I do it to hide
the fear inside.
Just cover it up for now.
Take a ****
and blow the smoke.
What nonsense I allow.

Often I run,
hide from the sun
and lock my troubles away.
Tossing the key
far away from me
and in the darkness I stay.

Tired and lazy,
groggy and hazy.
Oh, just what I would give
to get past my strife
and get on with my life.
This can't be the way to live.

Face my fears?
Or have a few jeers?
Time to light up another.
Deeper I sink
away from the brink,
hidden behind my smoke cover.

Tables turn and positions reverse
the heart is naked when insecurities disperse
I see both sides of the coin we flipped
failed to get out of the way before lightning hit
The forecast calls for clear skies
There's a healing little boy inside
He watches as the pieces rearrange
asking a stranger to provide some loose change
so he can hold onto a coin until another whispers in his ear,
"Lets flip this for our future, call it in the air"

The artist smiles upon his creation.
What once was a blank page is now a colorful explanation
of the love he never felt.
of the tears he never held back.
of the talent he never lacked.

As time passed on, he would stay behind.
Always locked up in his room, his pages would remind
of the times he could not think, because the love felt so thick.
His thoughts no longer restricted, because the love faded just as quick.
Still time passed on, still he sat and painted
all the feelings he couldn't tell, all the pain he hated.

The world has forgotten of his heart.
Eyes never witnessed the naked cries behind his art.
Still alone and locked away, he sits atop his stool.
Painting feelings never voiced, else they'd consider him a fool.

Growing old and pale, he slips away that night.
To the lost love he never found, he whispers out "good night"
Leaving behind his final thoughts through art, a page of empty white.

A voyeuristic view through the windows of happy friends
is not nourishment enough for this poet's heart
and does not sate this dreamer's hungry soul

before this spirit journeys on
i'd like to know what it is like
to be loved from the inside out

those delicate strings,
that haunting duet,
of love not bound by fear

i'd like to know love
from the inside out
and not from the outside in

that stuff of dreams,
(yet real i've seen)
that one true union of souls

it's honeyed nectar taste
would be sweet upon my lips
and those delicate strings,
tender music to my soul.


oh muse, you take me too far
i must leave off
before i break this tender heart
and having been turned inside out
i fly completely

apart



--bruised orange