I'm in the hands of
faithful optimism
or
youthful foolishness.

I guess it's up to you to choose
the former or the latter.

I'm bound to find the answer,
but love is a rhetorical question
with no elicit answer.

I am the only idiot who is so thick that he would think to take a walk
At three in the Monday morning

But I am not alone.
There are others,
Transient beings
Venturing forth into the shadows between the street lamps

No one is here to stay.
We are all travelers.
Where are you going?
From whence do you hail?

Why is there not silence? There is no one conscious here.
My footsteps do not make a sound. But the sounds are there.
Under every streetlamp, the highway sings.
It is an ugly song, but a song that calls one away never the less.

The sailors heard its prettier, younger voice.
Now it has grown old, and its voice is gravely from too many cigarettes
And it strains to keep singing, nothing but a cup of coffee holding it back
From peace.

Now, a dog.
Bashful, quiet, dark, tail held between its legs
Runs out under the streetlamp, beside I, the boy in the trench-coat and fedora
To donate to the national trust

He glances, back, and forth.
He knows I see him, but it don't matter.
We are partners in crime.
I am here, laughing at the world too.

Where are you coming from, friend?
The dog asks me.
No where. I like to think I am going somewhere beautiful, though.
Where are you going, friend? I ask the dog.
Paris, the city of lights. I have heard it is lovely this time of year.
Then godspeed, pooch, for your journey is a long one.
And with a nod, he let loose one more line: You realize you look like a ******, right?
And then he was gone.

Another transient being.
What a funny place
This world is
On Monday morning,
At three AM.

And here I am, heeding the highway's siren song.

i'm an astronaut,
aimlessly floating through space,
afraid to grasp at
floating objects,
moving swiftly 'round me,
pointless calculations
of velocity and direction,
consume my decisions
until it's all out of reach.

though i'm pulled towards
these stars,
they're much too dangerous to touch,
the reactions, the heat,
i know not to get pulled in,

but meteor, you shine,
with an effervescent glow,
smooth rounded corners,
i edge slowly towards you,
butterfly stroking
through zero gravity,
it's not long until you
fill the gaze through this helmet,

but proximity somehow
changes this drive,
i justify waiting
by forcing imperfections,
shrugging off the journey
before it even happens,
after all probability states that
this mission will likely
end incomplete,
trajectories in sync
are a rarity at best,
perfect arcs can quickly differ
soon after their peaks.

this vacuous environment
clouds better judgment,
fleeting moments of comfort are
like recycled air,
bland maintenance of life,
the taste of postage stamps.

let's not forget the reason,
why we now float aimless,
years of training for a mission,
that fell apart when truly tested.

with the shaft of this city looking so bleak,
i know i couldn’t have fallen anywhere else.
but i don’t know about you.

i know plenty about the music you’re into,
the language you speak, the stairs you creak,
but i don’t know about you.

i see those beautiful eyes of yours
and i see them stare at the smoke billows,
and i see you seeing that I can’t figure you out.

and it gets me off every ******* day.
but i don’t blame you.

Staring into stars, the lonely people drink their tears
And genuflect to empty car parks and swallow their fears
Like Ernest Hemingway, they grit their teeth and laugh
******* a pocket bullet, contemplating aftermath
And the shadows bend and grow…
And the embers shine below.

Geared for success, the lonely boy begins to starve
His chest heaving from stress, his wish for waterfall in cars
Freeways self-entitled, forcing ants into the gutter
While a lonely father cries and the boy freezes and sputters
And the doorway opens up
As the mouth is finally shut.

“I’m not mad, son, you’ve only disappointed me”
Father, point the way for me, where is my life leading?!
Should I sacrifice my happiness for a chance at succeeding?
Should these calloused hands be empty, do I need a beating?

You need to straighten up your tie and keep your noses clean.
My mother’s eyes in moonlight silently judging me
Inhumanity, why don’t you rule these streets?
I bite my bottom lip and gaze down at my feet
Lumped chunk of nicotine
Pushing itself out of me.

I want to stop blending rainwater with my leaking eye-sockets,
Crying for another with which to share my gold locket,
Tossing and turning, wondering where I will be next
And for God’s sake, can I do it, am I trying my very best!?

Why can’t I get up on time like every normal human being?
Why do I always get sick, why do my guts hate me?
Why are all my joints always crackling and aching?
I never want to live, don’t ever try to save me!

“I’m not mad, son, you’ve only disappointed me”
Father, point the way for me, where is my life leading?!
Should I sacrifice my happiness for a chance at succeeding?
Should these calloused hands be empty, do I need a beating?

Staring into stars, the lonely people sit and smile
Counting all the faces staring back, retracing miles
Celestial serenity, striving for an energy
Never needing inquiry, embracing the no thing!

Should these calloused hands be empty?
Do I need a beating?
Will these pruning hands deceive me?
This Universe is in me.

Write insanely
                                        It doesn’t matter what you write
                  Incoherent ramblings or poetic rhymes
                                                          ­Clean-shaven in youth
Grizzled beard in the wisdom of age
                       Wear a distinctive cap
       Strategically placed without a care
                                                            ­ Or none at all
                     but ALWAYS keep MeSSy hair
    Dress up from others throwaways
                                              Or dress to the nines
                                                           ­        Clean suit and all
                                        But most importantly
                                                Write­ insanely

They keep sending these transient friendships,
And it seems like I can’t get a single grip,
And the hollow words, they tell me,
Make me see how empty they are with me.

We’ve been paralyzed by concrete feelings,
by faces we barely recognize.
Its amazing what people will do,
Just so they can be contemplated by you.

Sirens filled the air,
The water still dripping from my hair,
All I heard were lies, deceit and tears,
The summary of all your fears.

It’s always the same every morning,
I guess you get used to playing musical beds,
I’ve become a monster I’ve never met,
Someone I seriously forgot to pet.
You can call yourself a monster, But the truth is,
That underneath this grin,
We're all beasts with thick skin.

I don't know what to chase anymore,
Where to point the sails ashore,
It seems like every time I care too much,
We fall apart.

It looks like I'm chasing my favorite phantoms in the dark,
For you I fell so hard,
Like a pulmonary artery in the heart,
Blindly beating for a counterpart.

I’m going to knock out,
I’m sorry just really was held up on alarms,
Sirens and torments fill this fragile state of mind.
Which keeps us awake, makes us aware, and keeps us adored,
Even if you lose it tonight,
The next morning it won't be filled by awkward half-hearted byes.

I don't know what to chase anymore,
Where to point the sails ashore,
It seems like every time I care too much,
Things fall apart.

I just woke up from a dream
In which I was falling
Thinking of it now, I wish I had
Ended up in your hands after
Such a tiresome plummet
And what did you dream?
Hopefully rainbows, yes

Hopefully a full spectrum of
Colors swirling from a waterfall
Or a great gathering of all
Peoples to make peace and
Birth love beneath the shadows of their
Bombs

These are the dreams that should enlighten and
Inspire you to live fully and selflessly in the
Hopes of one day breaking the thin membrane
That stands between the wishing world
And ours