You are not too old to dream a dream
Not too weak to walk a mile
If you really want to see the light
There at the end of the tunnel, you can find
When you take the risk, when you take the chance...

Let the darkness have a rest,
Give yourself a break;
Accept encouragement and respect,
And let go of the ache.

Feel the right outside the wrong,
Don’t do this on your own;
There’s more than dark to run from here,
Just realize you can be home.

Don’t chase yourself in circles—
Insight comes with the dawn;
And when no strength remains within,
Draw from the One you depend on.

I can feel my heart beat deeper now.
The release of lust has left me bright and living.
My veins course with vibrant pulsations that
bring about a serene confidence in the
silence that I form around my dwelling.

What it is the traveler wishes
to see within me, is a vast
emptiness that will vanish when perceived.
Nothing special is the key,
thus every moment I am hidden.

Amongst the brush the sage can sit,
where no wind can blow,
and Mara is caught cold in snow;
The moment is beautiful, kept and slow.
Thus the answer to everything is the act of letting go.

I don't know what you think of the word "wicked";
but where I come from it's a funny thing. It doesn't mean evil or sad.
We say "That's wicked cool." It's meaning rings the same as, "That's the ticket!"
Wicked means more; and more hope can't be all that bad.

I guess what I'm saying is, you're "Wicked" nice.
Despite your talent, your wall is full of other people's "Hope".
Vanity is certainly not your choicest vice.
Empathy, perhaps, would better fit the scope.

Your story's still being written down; I'm not sure where that path will stray.
I don't know if it will end in fire or ice- or if either would suffice-
but were Robert Frost here, (and from my home town) he'd say
"I've heard the name. That chick's wicked dope."
Thanks for being Wicked Cool, Wicked Hope

Come to me,
And we shall be,
Forever lasting
In the light of the sun,
And the gaze of the moon,
Shall forever envy
Your innocent beauty.

I can't stop thinking,
About the way
Her hand touched mine.

I can't stop thinking,
About the place
Where he made me cry.

I can't stop thinking,
The voices
They're getting too loud.

I can't stop drinking,
Every time
I hear her name.

I can't stop sleeping,
More and more
Hour after hour.

I can't stop dreaming,
The hellish nightmares
That have become reality.

I can't stop writing,
Until I've gotten
My reason pointed out.

I can't stop thinking,
About how no one
Will notice I'm gone.

I can't stop breathing.
No, wait.
yes I can.

I look up at the millions of twinkling dots in the sky.
I whisper under my breath maybe someday, I can reach out and touch the beauty the possess.

I've always wished to have such beauty, as the stars did.
The mysterious gestures they command lovers to do,
the physique and romance inter-wound with their mere existence.

I promised myself, that I would never sing again, if i could for one day, contain as much as an acute  palm full of the wonder these little specks hold among themselves.

And yet, as I ponder these continuous thoughts, I catch myself smiling, as if I was one.