you know more
than just skin
sliced it apart
gotten under
dug close to the bone
so please
get gone

I see the stars, all around me.
They sparkle, gleam and shine.
All these stars, all around me.
I wish they were all mine.

Sitting in my floating capsule.
Floating around the massive Earth.
All this beauty, all around me,
makes me wonder what my life's worth.

In a universe so big,
we're so small.
Makes you wonder,
what's the meaning of it all?

I see the moon, shining bright,
full and large, perfect circle.
It may have a dark side,
but it's still beautiful.

Shooting through the atmosphere.
Back down to the Earth below.
Burning up as I fall to the Earth.
Gravity is my only foe.

In a universe so big,
we're so small.
Makes you wonder,
what's the meaning of it all?

Please take me home.
I want to go home.
I need to go home.

Please take me home.
I miss my home.
I miss being able to roam.

The stars,
they are,
my home.

So soft and so warm with her hand in mine,
The time has not been kind
So young and so wise with death in her eyes
The darkness burns her skin
White and smooth, her arms reach up
Touching the stars with every stretch
Gently my hand grazes the scars
Tracing, tracing, tracing
I feel the star, the heart, the lines and the words
Reeking of pain with every stroke
I hold her tightly
Her eyes shining brightly
Yearning for something more
Peering, peering, peering
Through every unwelcoming door

Touch the stars,
Burning amongst the black

I see the stories poured throughout every red, poison-filled drop

Touch the stars,
Offering life amongst the scars

blip bleep beep boop
santas gonna watch me sleep
slip sleep seep soap
mommy wants to have a feast
avocados, bathrooms, teaspoons, menthol breath
so very special to watch you seek
bread, seven elevens, toilet paper, adjectives
the way you'd never see.

We had a language you and I.
Not of lips or hips or trembles.
but of words, and thoughts
and the tangles between ideas and emotions.

And now that you are gone the words I once spoke you
try to push through my lips, my body convulses
to speak again that tongue we taught each other.
that language we shared.

Sometimes when I speak with others I hear echoes of it
and I try to form complex sentences that belonged
to our language.

But they are not of our kind,
no one is of as much my kind sometimes I feel,
as you were of mine.

And so now I sit a tourist in the world,
and sometimes at night I remember
that once I had a home-country with you
and a tongue.

When a heart breaks, is it heard?
When tears fall, is it earned?

When left alone, are you lonely?
When he walks away, are you yearning?

When the hurt comes, does it pain?
When the Love leaves, does any remain?

When the friendship is gone, do you cry?
When the odds are impossible, do you try?

When the body aches, is the soul sore?
When the mind weeps, does it crave more?

When the memories fade, do you mourn?
When the future is unclear, do you go forth?

When faith parts, does it come back?
When Love returns, does it lack?

When the hearts tears, does it resent me?
When all is said and done, is Love simply a Tragedy?

Hark! Now everything is still,
The screech-owl and the whistler shrill,
Call upon our dame aloud,
And bid her quickly don her shroud!

Much you had of land and rent;
Your length in clay ’s now competent:
A long war disturb’d your mind;
Here your perfect peace is sign’d.

Of what is ‘t fools make such vain keeping?
Sin their conception, their birth weeping,
Their life a general mist of error,
Their death a hideous storm of terror.
Strew your hair with powders sweet,
Don clean linen, bathe your feet,

And—the foul fiend more to check—
A crucifix let bless your neck:
’Tis now full tide ‘tween night and day;
End your groan and come away.

Why aren't we perfect?
on this boat in the taihiatian sea
amongst the gardenia planted pots
smothered by it's heavenly fumes
and surrounded by leaping dolphins?

1) you'll mess up my bed sheets
2) I'd make sure everyday you'll have is ****
and 3) because change is hard for both you and me.

but why is it harder to being all alone
-
wild


-
wild



-
WILD




-
with


-
freedom
-
than being with you?


so don't write about me,
when I'm dying and shriveling
and not here
and
this premonition comes true
and
I've
given up.
Write about me now,
alive and well,
desolate and passionate
imploring you to go
exploring with me
in both our
wild

-
WILD


-

ways,
perfect in our imperfect ways
being both brilliantly terrible
and both terribly brilliant.