Try to answer these questions in 3-5 words each

What does grass smell like?

Not using the word crackle what does it sound like to step on snow?

What does salt taste like?

What does it smell like before rain?

What does it smell like after rain?

What does your hand feel like?

What is the texture of hair?

What does water taste like?

What does it feel like to touch silk?

What does gasoline smell like?

What does a pine tree smell like?

What does fear feel like?

You may call yourself a poet, but can you answer this, the words rattle inside your brain the answer longs to get out. Yet you can't find the words to describe it.

Swimming the English Channel,
struggling to make it to Calais,
I swam into Laura halfway across.
My body oiled for warmth,
black rubber cap on my head,
eyes hidden behind goggles,
I was exhausted, ready to drown,
when I saw her coming toward me,
bobbing up and down between waves,
effortlessly doing a breaststroke,
heading for Dover.  Treading water
I asked in French if she spoke English,
and she said, "Yes, I'm an American."
I said, "Hey, me too," then asked her out for coffee.

-The moment you stop wanting it, you will have it
-The moment you stop planning, your life will begin
-To be happy, you must stop saying you will achieve it after a goal
-Forcing will not help what's meant to be a falling into placement

You will never understand the way you make me feel,
every time I see you, I have tiny little heart palpitations,
my knees turn weak and I feel close to collapsing,
you enthrall me with every word you speak to me. The very sound of your voice sends shivers down my spine.

When you cast a glance towards me, I feel a sense of honour. Honoured that you would even consider looking at me, giving me your attention - the only attention that I desire.

You will never understand how you make me feel,
you are so humble, so unsuspecting of the love and passion I have for you,
you don't know how you are constantly on my mind,
you don't know how you are one who keeps me going through the week.
You will never understand.

It sounds ridiculous but only I feel productive when I'm doing nothing.
Sitting back, just relaxing.
Popping blue beans, burning bowls of green.
And just thinking.
Daydreaming about how things could have been.
How things could still be.
But how things will probably be.
Just close your eyes and let music be your guide.

Entire lives constructed and played out
in grand fashion. A world so detailed
I would rather get lost,
And never come back to this travesty of a society,
so raw and primal.
so human.
My world is so beautiful and yet so depressing
because it's what ours could be, but never will become.
Anything to distract me from this.
The 24 year old burnout grinding through school because there aren't many options left.
So where will I'll be in 5 years?
I wont.

From my rented attic with no earth
To call my own except the air-motes,
I malign the leaden perspective
Of identical gray brick houses,
Orange roof-tiles, orange chimney pots,
And see that first house, as if between
Mirrors, engendering a spectral
Corridor of inane replicas,
Flimsily peopled.
                  But landowners
Own thier cabbage roots, a space of stars,
Indigenous peace. Such substance makes
My eyeful of reflections a ghost's
Eyeful, which, envious,would define
Death as striking root on one land-tract;
Life, its own vaporous wayfarings.

There're spaces within
my chest,
         and this redundant
       motion of
             rising and falling
     will suffocate
   the very essence
of my soul.
     And as I ache
     for the love that
     your body
     provides,
I will find myself
reaching for you-
      completely
              deprived.