the sound of
footsteps in the
fall and the
reflection of sunlight
off drops of dew
resonates
more than
my understanding of
happiness

As if anger is never enough when it comes to me fleetingly, sparingly,
sweetly if you'd believe it,
I'd taste it and spew it back out into rainbows that land in thorns surrounding you
I want to hurt you, I want to be alone

My whole life I've been trying to help people
I've been trying to help and draining myself
I'm used to the kind of air that leeches off of me,
the kind of folks that leech off of me,
the state of being of shame, for the ways I can't keep myself alive

And I try and stop trying, live and keep dying
moving and stopping
If I open my eyes near you I become too repulsed to keep rhythm
If I listen to you I sink faster into the places where I can't feel

But with you before I've felt the sky in a million flavors
And I've cried in a million colors
And now, I have a million ways to say that I'm confused.
But I'm done.

She on the Twentieth
   Street liveth
In a plush penthouse;

And I in my own rustic crib
  Live by my ancient nib;
And for love, I'm no mouse.

The dollybird useth iThings
  Those by Apple made,
While I by my little things
  Run my blessed trade.

Though no kingly life
I do presently live
Nor have now fortune and fame
      Great, high queenly dame;

And I mayn't a costly gadget
        At the moment avoid
Like that dear iPhone or tablet;
Yet make not my affection void:

        I can be a commoner,
     But do need nay a coroner.

Some say I treat you like you’re on a roller coaster
My way of thinking:
My love is a broken toaster,

You give me your all,
Your sweet slice of bread
And when I give it back, your bread will be burnt and dead.

Set a time, a level, a crisp that may appeal;
You’ll get none of what you wished for and
Realize that nothing was real.

I do not supply honey, jam, or anything sweet.
All you receive is a burnt slice of bread
And the feeling of a lonely belly with nothing to eat.

Do you turn away from eyes that sing on nights filled with emotion
Never wondering if you could drown in your imagination
Without understanding all the poetry that dances in your heart
Warming words of choice, in your tongue of fascination

Do your hours exist in a sky familiar with moments such as these
Is there nowhere to look for heaven free of possession
Where words do not cry out to be contemplated by your pen
To become lovely music giving light to your obsession

Can one learn to be absent from this transparent house of glass  
And remove this flowing ink that runs within their veins
Still breathe without giving out a subtle handful of their soul
Each time a word calls out to be painted in a refrain

I cannot turn from eyes that sing on nights filled with emotion
My heaven is this possession in which I freely drown
You may not understand the poetry dancing in my heart
Still I will write, until I become dust, in the ground