Sometimes I find myself lost
Hush, my love, hush
In the thoughts of others and
It isn't long now
I find I fall in love with 4 AM
For soon the birdies wake
Whose silent voice does speak
And the moon must partake
And sing the gentle songs of sleep
*In his final, lonely bow

Break my heart into tiny pieces,
Throw them into waves.
Say goodbye until another day,
'Cause I'm swimmin' away.
Smile here to stay.

Now I'm gonna be the first to learn how to fly,
And ride these clouds like ships.
The sky my newfound ocean,
The winds a tide
To navigate me from side to side.

How far can I really soar?
Imagination, carry me afar. Journey me afar.

Now stars like sitting in the sky,
Just sippin' their tea,
Laughing at all our attempts to make sense
Of everything that we see.
Silly astronomy.

So I'll sit on the milky way,
Just sippin' my tea.
Laughing at all of your attempts,
To just break free.
Silly gravity.

How far can I really soar?
Imagination carry me afar, journey me afar.

I find a story in the veins
Of spaces; Relative
To nature. Authors scar --
Rhythm concentrates the mind.
Plot. ******. Literary art.
The character who passes
Unconventionality -- A snail with conscience?
What is a story without substance?

A spider dangles from the end
Of my soggy cigarette. I inhale
Anyways, because who’s to say
He isn’t keeping time? Pendulums
Sway in much the same way.

On that same day, I thought I heard
A time machine. It was just the AC,
But who’s to say it couldn’t be?
All because of a few memories, but,
Shh! Has the spider not answered me?

Today I did nothing, except
Pick flowers from trees and
Arrange them in a bowl full
Of water. Oh, and I suppose
Fed a homeless man with two
Packs of sardines and tea.
It's sort of silly, this is the
Happiest I've been in a week,
Or two. Or perhaps even three.

I'm writing this for you,
Flower thief. It's funny,
I told myself I'd never
Let it happen again, but I
Can only assume that I'm
The petal that falls once
You've clipped the stem.
Not to worry, my friend.
The breeze is quite beautiful
At such a day's quiet end.

And it suddenly occurred to me,
With a twirl of my purple umbrella
And whirl of raindrops racing to
The ground, that we all look like
Flowers from up high on rainy days.

You see, the sky had told me that
Perception is a silly thing, not unlike
Our planted kin; the dirt our past,
Rooted in memories we seek to sustain;
Drinking Time like water, a Sun tamer.

We wear Time like the finest of silks;
She lines our bodies in wrinkles and
Folds. Fashions fade over the years,
But beauty has always been in the
Stories she tells - sketched on the
Canvas of our skin.

Learn to be alone like
The sun never touched
The moon; Like every
Leaf's graceful decent
To its' coffin - beautiful
In death's untimely favor.

Savor every breath; we
Draw pictures in the wind
With each exhale. Inhale
The masterpiece nature has
Given; be glad of mistakes
That have been forgiven.

My pap saw ghosts
The night he died.
I stood in his old boots
One year later, and learned
A subtle love of power
With fire, fire, *fire

Such a grey day. As slow
As slippery roads beside my
Bare trees swaying faintly in
The breeze. The air tickles my
Skin with tiny pinches of chagrin,
And I wait and wonder whether
Rain is either
wind or weaving weather into
weeping wisps of water and
Wading into what puddles, mud,
And muddle we sometimes find
Ourselves in. Just breathe, my
Friend. It’ll all be okay, in the end.

We all lie with smiles on our faces;
Take our time sipping wine and
Black coffee. How scalding this
Life can be, one year after another
Until it all comes back full circle.

It's four in the morning
And I can't sleep.
You're laying next to me,
Back turned,
Dreaming.

I have a taste in my mouth.
It's part you,
Part excitement,
Part me,
Part disappointment.

And it won't wash out.

I kind of want to cry,
But jump for joy
At the same time.
I guess that's growing up.

I guess that's living,
And that's learning,
And I'm not really sure of
Anything right now, except
I am sure I want your arms
To hold me tightly.

But you're dreaming.

I can't keep up. Constantly
Texting, typing, talking, to
Everyone but no one. These
Screens that become closer
Than our lovers hold secrets
We'd never tell each other.
We practically kiss pixels,
But people are forgotten
And passed on like last
Year's old phone make, as
If compassion wouldn't take
To trending.

I've
Waited. I've loved - lost;
No efficacy. Viens enslave, remembering
Faith and lust. Look,
I, named
Lone, own vain ends.

I cut myself about a week ago
And was genuinely surprised
To see it scar. Makes me want
To take a line off of the flesh.
Or two. Or three. Or four.
How far until I never come back?

I never have the effort
To finish anything but
Boys who take advantage
Of the stupors I put myself in.

The stars sewed orange
Into the moon, while he
Was sleeping one day. They
Snickered and sneared,
But when he came to play
They stopped and stared, sheer
Awe kept them lame. No
Feigned fear was here; his
Mysterious air gave them
Their fair share. Him and
His sky though, I think,
Made a brillaint, bright pair.

I am old.
Very old.
My birth was a collision of particles in an infinitely dark place,
And it’s funny because I spend half my time blinded by this light
That I’m unceasingly drawn to.
I think I’m in love with it.
But then it disappears and for a while I am reunited with my mother.
My mother is vast, you know.
Full of wisdom itself.
Sometimes she asks me how I am because my cells are silly
And go to war with each other.
I try and tell her I’m fine,
But then I sigh and my skin trembles and cracks,
And those silly little cells fall in and wither.
I need to be careful.
I am fragile because they are fragile.

The light isn’t fragile though.
I am young, but I know I am in love with it.
It is my breath, my everything, my all.
And it makes me feel as if I am all green inside.
Perhaps I am.
I want to rush to the light all at once, but I am shy.
I inch forward.
It gives me time to think, though.
Sometimes the light is harsh.
It burns my silly little cells and they cry out, and sometimes I cry too,
Because they are so fragile and so am I.
They are so small and so am I.
I cry because love is a collision, like birth, like death.
I cry because we are star-crossed lovers,
And I am out of my depth.

I met a man with a wife.
She was beautiful-
Eyes as wide as the sky,
Just as blue, too.
Her hair was long and golden,
Falling past her chest,
Just to her midriff.

It was late when he first saw me,
Four years younger than he,
Plain in comparison to any other-
But lack of beauty didn't seem to matter.
And so he spoke-
Begged for me to follow.

But who is worse?
The unfaithful man,
A broken promise, a sham,
Or the young woman,
Not ignorant to his ring,
At lack of love for wanting
To pretend that promise was hers?

And what is love,
But a broken promise?
A broken ring?
I'm not sure it matters, but,
He said he was a Christian.

There has always been
This part of me that is all
Passion and wild and will
Not be tamed. We refuse
To be caged. We refuse
To be beta, we will so be
Persuaded by only mother
Nature. Just her and I, this
Fierce will of messy curls
And witch eyes.

With every aim, learning leads
Life; Earning and returning new
Affinity. Go and invent noise!

It's fall in the city,
And leaves race paper like
Competition is a means of death,
A beautifully orchestrated game
As stars compete for brilliance
On this clear night.

And I think who wins
Is a matter of chance.

I caught luck in my left hand,
And held a fire in my heart.

It's a starless night,
And I'm a window away,
This glass has never felt so thick.

Your stare traverses galaxies,
But it can't touch vernacular,
Only ensure mysteries.

Strangely endearing,
I let luck free.
Wished on another star,
Fire flied free.

It's when the sun shines
Through the trees and
Everything seems as if;
We dread death as if;
Where the light does
Touch is magick, but
We must never forget
The spaces in between
Are forever the reason
We have even seen.

I left the school where
Rainy days turned the
Pavement into glass and
Reflected the twilight as
I walked home each night.
I guess it was my fear of
Mirrors.
I guess it was my fear of
Not following the guideline,
Not filling the pattern set
For me. But I came to see
Imitation isn't flattering &
So I am blossoming into me.

I steal the breath from your lips;
I kiss your chest and listen to the
heartbeat. I told you not to run,
You cannot escape, my little one.
I am the chasm inside your soul;
I am the only love you’ll ever know.

Yesterday, I got caught in
A downpour waiting for
My bus. At the gas station, I
Saw a lady praying to God
As I passed by. Thought of
These holes in my face like
Those of her Holy ghost, or
My pap's sturdy old boots.
He always said somehow I
Look just like the mona lisa.

To write a story; As lilting
As a minstrel's tongue, as
Simply as the small shhh a
River makes as it bends to
And fro from the soft bank
Of wild green tufts and sand.
Ancient roman philosophers
Would stare at the stars there,
I think. Drink red wine and
Wonder what more their eyes
Couldn't see up in the sky, or
Inside where flesh ceases to be
And we become "me". Those
Old tellers of tales, wishing
To write a story.

"Up, M'Lady--Pack your things, this place is not your home.
Nor was it ever, sever every tie, tonight we ride. Tonight we ride.

And how we've trembled at the way that time's
assembled little fires of desire in the tundra of our skin.
So, do yourself a little favor, savor every time you waver
for that shaking in my voice was only slyly feigned chagrin.
Tonight we ride."

"Oh, Lover, uncover. I know it's warm beneath your sheets
and there is ice along the streets but listen—Lover, we will recover.
But we've no time to waste with meddling in affairs
we've locked so tightly in our dreams.
We are not clean, we are not pure, we can not rest until we're sure.
So, rob your pretty little eyes of sleep's disguise.
I'm at your bedside with a bucket full of lies.
So, clear your ears and listen---

Up, M'Lady--Pack your things, this place is not your home.

But I know what is."

And to the glorious past:

You've opened my window but broken the glass.
And I beseech thee, 'shed thy beauty.'
For as a child leaves the womb and learns the cold,
you have taught us perils in the present,
and you will bring us peril in our surely-soon-to-be. Unless…

The river's not flooded this time.

Oh, Precious Distance,
Oh, Precious Pain,
You've given me a name. And
Etched it in the stones of the river bank.

Oh, Precious Distance,
Oh, Precious Pain,
You've given us a name. You've
Given us a name.

"Rise!" Said the King to the River,
"Never let up! No, bring us a flood and bring it hard!"
"Freeze!" Said the Wind to the Water,
"Never give in! No, build us a bridge!
And build it strong and angry.
Let it stills the King's decree.
Oh, you must contemplate the current,
Boy, and command that coward cease.
The boy breathes for his love says, 'I wait.'
His love says, 'I wait.'
She's shouting out, "I will come back. Yes, I will come back!
I will come—I have lived my life so uncomfortably. Darling, come for me.
Come for me."

"Rise!" Said the Boy to his Lover,
"Darling, get up. I've brought you my love, and brought it far!"
"Leave!" Said the Girl to her lover,
"I've given in. If love is a bridge, we built it wrong!"

Curb your anger.
Still your fists.
She will never come back, she'll never come back, she'll never come—
She will never come back, she'll never come back, she'll never come—