“It really is,” I whispered, “It really is a beautiful world."


     “This really doesn’t feel safe,” Jamie said, her voice holding just a hint of fear. She was probably right. By anyone’s standards, this was straight up stupid, and here I had convinced her to come along with me.
     “Nah it’s totally fine. I wouldn’t do anything to put you in too much danger.” I said this without a hint of doubt in my voice, confident as usual. I had to keep the fearless and confident image or she might change her mind. I hoped the risk would be worth it in the end, but I couldn’t really be sure. How could I know unless I tried? If I didn’t try, I would just be left wondering how great it might have been.
     “We are really freaking high.” This time Jamie said it deadpan, more of an emotionless observation than anything else. Again, she was right. I looked down the long white ladder past her. It was probably 80 yards to the ground from where we were. Above us was another 20 yards of ladder, leading up to a narrow platform. We were climbing a water tower. The platform above us circled around the tower just below where it began to bulge outward into a spherical shape at the top. There was no safety cage around us, nothing to break our fall except for the climbing harnesses we wore. Each harness had two straps, each with a clip on the end. One clip would be snapped onto the first rung, then the next clip to the second, and so forth until we reached the top. It wasn’t fool proof but it was better than nothing.
     “But seriously my hands are getting tired. How much further is it?” Jamie was great, but complaining was one of her most annoying flaws. Most people wouldn’t have made it this far anyway. The fact that she had was just a testament to the athleticism and strength she had underneath all that complaining.
     “Close. Maybe fifty rungs. Hang on for another five minutes and we can sit down and rest.” Yet again she was right. My hands and forearms were burning like crazy. I had long ago learned that climbing with gloves on a slick painted surface was asking for trouble, so today we had no protection from the narrow rungs pressing into our skin.
     For the next fifty rungs, the only sound I could hear above my heavy breathing was the clink and snap as each clip was removed and replaced. It was surprisingly calm this evening, the sun not quite finished slipping below the horizon. It was late August, so the temperature was still somewhere in the 70s this time of day. The backpack on my back seemed to get heavier and heavier the higher we went. I could feel the straps digging into my shoulders and trying to tip me over backwards. This bag was far too big for what I was doing, but I needed some way to bring a sleeping bag and blanket up. Finally, my hand left the last rung and found the top of the steel platform. I unclipped from the last rung and snapped on to the hand rail that went around the outside edge before I reached down to take Jamie’s hand.
     “Thank you sir,” she said, “I see chivalry is not dead.” Her hand brushed a few loose strands of long blonde hair out of her face as she stood upright next to me, looking out over the edge.
     “Ok, you were right. This is worth it.” She said in a matter of fact tone. I laughed softly.
     “This isn’t actually what we came for,” I said with a grin, “We aren’t done climbing yet. I just didn’t think you would actually come if I told you how far we were going. But the view is really nice here.”
     “You can’t be serious. I didn’t see anything going up any further.” She sounded rather incredulous.
     “We have to follow this platform around to the other side. There is a set of stairs going up to the very top. At least it isn’t another ladder.” I tried to sound confident, like it had already been decided that we would go on, but I couldn’t stop a tiny bit of a pleading tone from leaking in. I knew there was a small chance that she would want to stop here, but I also knew that going just a bit further would be completely worth it. I had scoped this tower out from the ground several times, using my trusty binoculars that I bargained for at a neighbor’s yard sale. When I discovered the stairs going up past the platform, I used an online satellite map to take a peek at the very top of the tower. From what I had been able to tell, at the very top there was a completely level platform, twelve to fifteen feet in diameter, with a secure looking rail around it. Amazing what a person can find online.
     My hope was to spend the night on that platform, hence the sleeping bag and blanket in my massive backpack. Tonight was supposed to be the brightest and most active meteor shower of the year in North America and the weather had decided to be kind to us star gazers, leaving a clear and cloudless sky for the evening. It would be perfect. Perfect if Jamie would go along with it, that is.
     “You are the worst kind of person,” she said. She wasn’t facing me so I couldn’t really tell how she felt about it. Finally she turned around and rolled her eyes. “Ohhhkaaaay. Let’s go. We’ve already gone this far.” She was used to situations like this. I was the one who always wanted to push the limits, go a little further, risk just a bit more, and she was the one who always asked me to reconsider and then went along with it anyway. I always felt bad for a little while, but I got over it pretty quick. It’s not like she didn’t know me well.
     “You are the best kind of person,” I said with a wink and a grin, “But let’s rest for a bit. My arms are tired now.” We sat down and I took off my backpack, setting it on the platform beside me, digging through a side pocket. I pulled out two bottles of water and a box of Poptarts.
     “Poptart?” I offered, “Snack of champions. All the professional water tower climbers eat them I heard.”
     “How are you not fat,” she replied, taking a delicious cherry snack from the silver wrapper. It wasn’t a question really, it was more a running joke between her and I about how much I should actually weigh. She’d usually joke that one day all the junk I eat would hit me at once and I would wake up weighing 400 pounds. Even though she joked, she wasn’t beyond being bitter about my eating habits since she worked hard to keep a perfect physique.
     Next I pulled out two plain white pieces of paper and handed one to her. I began folding mine delicately into the perfect paper airplane, using the flat section of the water tower for some of the more delicate creases.
     “I don’t know why I hang out with you. You are literally so freaking weird. Like who the hell would bring paper up the side of a water tower just to make a paper airplane.” She laughed even as she criticized. I knew she didn’t really mind. She had on multiple occasions told me that my “quirkiness” as she put it definitely made me more interesting to be around. I guess I was a little odd, but I didn’t really think that was a bad thing. I did what I thought to be amusing or entertaining. It wasn’t my fault the rest of the world didn’t seem to feel quite the same way about life.
     “In fifty years don’t you want to be able to set your grandchild on your lap and tell them all about the time you tossed a paper airplane off the side of a water tower? Grandkids don’t want to hear boring stories. I would know. I was a grandkid once.” Jamie just shook her head with a grin and started folding her airplane. Mine was finished and ready to be launched into the great unknown.
     “This is Air Farce One to ground station Loser, requesting permission to take off.” I did my best Top Gun impression, trying to remember how cool Tom Cruise sounded when he said it.
     “This is ground station Awesome to Air Farce One. Ground station Loser could not be located but we can go ahead and give you permission to launch. Have a nice flight.” Jamie still had at least a little bit of a child left in her. I tossed my paper airplane over the side, watching it glide several hundred yards before landing in the low branches of a tree. Mission complete.
     “What perfect throwing form you have,” Jamie said sarcastically, "You were probably one of those nerds who just made paper airplanes in class all day as a kid." Ouch. Yea, that had been me. Jamie wound up and threw her airplane with all her strength. She had made more of a dart than a glider and it flew fast, eventually landing in a tree considerably further than mine had.
     “You win this round,” I said with mock disgust, only barely able to hide a smile, “Let’s keep going.” I removed my clips from the rail and began walking along the platform. The bulb at the top of the tower was much bigger than it looked from the ground. I could just imagine the thousands of gallons of water above and beside me.
     Eventually we reached the stairs. It was nice of the designers to have taken pity on the poor inspectors who had to climb this far up. A ladder going around the outside of the bulb would have been terrifying. The stairs curling around the side felt much more secure. Reaching the top, there was a narrow platform leading from the edge of the bulb where the stairs ended to the flat space in the center of the tower. There was only a handrail on the left side so Jamie and I were sure to snap our harnesses on. The sun had almost fully set by now, the last tendrils of light just enough to see by as we made our way to the center.
     “Okay this is cool. You know what we should have done? We totally should have brought an air mattress up here and slept or something,” Jamie thought aloud. “I’ll bet the stars look amazing from here. Oh and look you can already see the city lights over there!” I loved seeing her excited. She would take one hand and play with her hair while the other would point at things. It was kind of weird when I thought about it, how she always pointed at things when she was excited. But that was just Jamie being Jamie.
     “You read my mind.” I pulled the sleeping bag and blanket out of the backpack and laid them on the flat steel. I probably should have realized how cold that steel was going to be. Oh well.
     “We are so in sync right now,” Jamie laughed. “This is awesome. You were right.”
     “Wait so what did you think was in the bag?” I asked. She hadn’t mentioned it before and I never said anything about it.
     “Honestly I thought it was a parachute or some **** and you were going to try jumping off the edge,” she laughed, “I would have tried to stop you but I decided I really won’t feel guilty when you die doing something stupid.”
     “Brilliant!” I exclaimed, “I am so going to try that next time!” I wouldn’t really. I liked doing risky things, but I wasn’t suicidal. We spent the next few minutes getting the sleeping bag and blanket situated. I loved the fact that Jamie could be spontaneous sometimes and that she was totally okay with just camping out on top of a random water tower on a Wednesday night. How many people in the world would have been okay with that? I was lucky to have her as a friend.
     We had everything settled by the time darkness fell completely. The climbing harnesses had been stuffed into the backpack and the backpack had been strapped to the railing on the side of the platform. With the sleeping bag laid completely open, there was still at least five or six feet of open platform on all sides of us. It felt secure enough.
     “I also forgot to mention that tonight is a huge meteor shower.” Jamie and I were on our backs, looking up at the infinite blackness.
     “I love shooting stars.” She said softly. Her eyes were wide and I could see her making fake mustaches out of her hair. She had kicked off her shoes and socks and was wiggling her toes in the night air. There was only a sliver of moon, just bright enough that I could see the glow of it on her cheeks.
     “It makes me feel small,” Jamie whispered, “I feel like that should bother me, feeling small, but it doesn’t. It’s weird because it’s almost comforting to me. Here I am, this tiny speck of dust, floating around on a larger speck of dust in the middle of infinity.” She wasn’t usually one to enjoy philosophy, but on the rare occasions she spoke like that, her point of view and opinions usually inspired me. She had a beautiful mind. She just didn’t often care to open up and share it like this.
“It makes me feel like it can’t all be an accident. Some people say that we got here through a series of random and fortunate events, that there is no great plan or design. But I just don’t see how that can be. How can mere chance create something like this? Of all the possibilities, of the infinite infinite possibilities, I just can’t believe that people, that you and I or anyone else were put here by accident. I don’t think that life could be an accident.” She spoke softly the whole time. Her voice never raised or quickened. Words seemed to flow forth effortlessly, as if this all were prepared and practiced. She was able to speak without doubt or hesitation, with such certainty that even the greatest cynic might have stopped to listen.
     She continued on, weaving words as though spells, playing ideas as though harp strings. She talked about her life, telling me things she never had before, teaching me things even I didn’t know. Jamie didn’t seem to be Jamie for the next while. Instead, she seemed to have become a font of wisdom, ideas, and genius. At least, that is how I saw her. She was able to take a single idea, and examine it from all perspectives. It was as though she held it in her palm, slowly rotating it to peer closer. She made connections that I had never thought of, inspiring me to think even deeper, loving the moment. All the while she lay there, watching the stars, wiggling her toes, and making pretend mustaches out of that long blonde hair. Eventually, she turned silent.
     “But what if it is an accident?” I said. My voice was unusually soft. “What if it was all an accident? What if there is no plan, no fate, and no reason for anything? What if there is no beginning or end and we are just insignificant bits of space dust? The idea of it not being an accident just seems so conveniently comforting, almost too convenient.” Jamie was silent after I finished. My heart was beating fast and my mind was alive. I didn’t feel close to being tired.
     “So what if it is,” she said eventually, “What difference does it make? Even if it is all an accident. Even if there is no meaning to life at all, it seems like a beautiful accident to me. Here we are, you and I, able to share this with each other. That seems like a beautiful accident to me. Here is this great big world, all the adventure, all the excitement, and all the love that it is filled with. That seems like a beautiful accident to me. Here is this infinitely huge sky, filled with stars that are incomprehensibly far away. If this is all an accident, it is the most beautiful I can imagine.” She paused for a while longer. “I feel that whatever you believe, it doesn’t really matter. Perhaps you believe there is a supreme design and plan, or maybe you believe that life is an accident filled with chaos. It doesn’t matter. We all live in the same world. We all see the same beautiful sights, we are surrounded by it. It is only our perception of it that differs. I choose to believe that such an incredibly beautiful world cannot be an accident.”
     I was quiet for a long time. Jamie had, for all intents and purposes, rocked my world. Hers was a perspective I had never thought of before. I, who believed I had thought it through from every angle. I, who believed myself smarter than the world. I realized then, at that moment, laying on the top of a water tower in late August watching a meteor shower, that maybe I was not a genius. Maybe I did not have the world figured out like I had believed. Maybe, just maybe, I was just a cynic; a cynic blinded by the misfortunes I had seen and suffered; a cynic disappointed in a world that had not treated me well.
     Jamie took my hand in hers, interlocking her slender fingers within my larger ones. She turned her head to the side and looked at me, still sporting a fake mustache. The sliver of moon was reflected in her eyes just so that I could not really look into them. Her lips were curled into just the slightes

I love waking up to you like this, with the sheet pulled up to our waists, my arm around you, your hair all tangled in my face. A dusting of light squeezes through the gaps in the window curtains, gracing your cheek on the pillow beside mine. It plays in your hair, caresses your neck, and flutters down the length of your bare side. The feeling I get when you move against me is indescribable. Your skin. Your scent. Electrifying and calming all at once.

You never wake up before I do, leaving me time to admire your beauty. I have heard people say that they could watch the ocean forever, getting lost in the infinity of the waves and horizon. I feel that way about you. Forever I could listen to your gentle breath and watch the ceiling fan move the little wisp of hair near your ear.

Alas, you always wake, usually first with a slight stir of your legs. Then you take my arm, the one wrapped around you, and pull yourself closer to me until your back is against my chest and your feet tickle mine. I pull you closer to me still, kissing your neck just below the ear. This kiss never fails to finish waking you up, pulling you from whatever remnants were left of the dream you might've been in.

You roll over to face me, your chest against mine, our legs overlapping. Your hand comes up to stoke my hair as you kiss me, my hand on your hip. Morning begins as soon as you open your eyes. Those deep hazel eyes that I lose myself in. The eyes that I can find myself in. I kiss you once more before throwing off the covers and rolling out of bed.

Like clockwork, that is our morning routine. I love it. But this isn’t about our usual routine. This is about the mornings that start with more than a kiss.

This is about the mornings when you first stir and pull me close, pressing your hips against me. This is about the mornings when instead of just taking my arm, you take my hand beneath yours and direct my fingers down your neck, across your chest, to your waist. This is about the mornings when instead of a brief kiss on your neck, I place my kisses all over your body.

You slowly roll over to face me, the sunlight rolling across the incredible slopes of your bare body. My hand is in your messy, wonderful hair as we kiss. Your legs and mine are entangled, our toes warm under the sheet. Awe is the word that comes to mind as you, this beautiful person, climb on top of me, the lucky man. I love the way hair hangs messy in your face, tickling mine when you lean in for another deep kiss, body tingling as you guide me in.

It doesn’t feel hurried or hasty. It is slow and calm, a comfortable warmth only alluding to heat. This isn’t the fiery passion of the night before, both desperate to pleasure the other. It isn’t the reckless abandon of two lovers lost to the night. There will be no sore muscles or exhausted bodies when we are done. Instead, this feels like comfort, understanding. It feels like love.

You used to worry about how you looked when you woke up. You worried that you didn’t look **** without makeup, with messy hair, and the remnants of sleep in your face. But the truth is that I don’t mind if your hair is a mess, if sleep still dusts your eyes, or that lines from the pillow are imprinted on the side of your cheek. To me this is the epitome of comfort, the clearest way I can say that I want you. That I want you now, that I want you at any time, and that I always will. This is the time that I will think on as I go about my day, waiting to get back to you.

I love waking up to you like this.

"Hey loverboy," she says. I don't respond.*



A rough draft excerpt from my story, Fictional Truth.



“Hey loverboy,” she says. I don’t respond. I enjoy ignoring her for a moment after I come out of a day dream.

“Hey. Jake. Snap out of it boy. Time to come back to earth,” she says with her usual tone of pleased annoyance. This time I leave the world inside my head and return to reality. Slowly turning my head to the right, I can see those deep blue eyes gazing up. I never get tired of her eyes.

“Come on, you said you’d help me here.”

“Sorry,” I say with a half grin and my best attempt at contrition. I look down to the papers in her lap. Right, math. I was helping her with calculus. She was really very good at math. We were in the same class, but she was two years younger than me after skipping two grades in elementary school.

“This one you just take the derivative of your function and plug in these two values.” I can remember these things effortlessly now, which was a huge accomplishment for someone who doesn't particularly like math.

“See, this is why I keep you around,” she says, those rosy lips that I so adored pulled into a little smirk. She reaches up and kisses me. She always seems to find an excuse to kiss me. “You can go back to daydreaming now.” Indeed I do, retreating back to the dreamscape inside my head. This time I think back to when I met Clara.


I had just arrived on campus, a bright eyed college freshman. There I was, lost in a sea of beautiful women. Small private schools had never been kind to me in that regard. Everything on campus was a wonder. Nobody from my high school had come here and I was very much alone but I didn't mind, I had outgrown most of my high school friends long ago. It was long past time for me to expand my horizons.

I found myself standing in front of a massive glass building. I wasn't past checking my reflection in the glass windows. Had to make sure my hair still looked as good as it did when I arrived. Who knew when I might run in to? Opening the doors I caught a waft of the bookstore smell, unlike anything I expected. At home the bookstores were small, with dusty leather covers that begged to be handled and old people that smelled like coffee. This was completely different. The odor of panicked freshman and newly bound textbooks permeated the air. I decided right then I wouldn't be spending much time there.

There was a long line extending towards the back of the building. Not knowing better, I assumed it was the line I was supposed to be in and slowly made my way to the rear. This would take forever. I pulled out my phone and started on another game of Angry Birds. I had been killing evil pigs for almost five minutes when I began to feel like I was being watched. Sure enough I glanced up to see a large pair of deep blue eyes looking at me.

“You know, some psychologists say that technology is making us less social,” said the girl looking up at me. I couldn't respond. She had straight black hair pulled behind her in a long ponytail. She had a small, perfectly formed nose with what seemed like a sea of freckles on it. Even more freckles danced on her cheeks. She was several inches shorter than me, maybe 5’9” and had on tight jean shorts and a black tank top that exposed only the most tantalizing amount of cleavage.

“So I’m just starting to feel a little uncomfortable with you ******* me with your eyes like that,” she said with the smirk on her face that I would soon come to know.

“Sorry,” I said, a tiny grin tugging at the corner of my mouth, “You surprised me a bit.”

“I’m Clara. This is the point in conversation where you tell me your name.” I liked her already. She had confidence and wit that was both abrasive and attractive.

“I’m Jake, pleased to meet you.” ****, I was smooth, like a wagon over rocks. “Are you a freshman too?”

“Yep. Just got here. I don’t think this line is moving.” I really liked the way little dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth even when she frowned slightly.

“It really doesn't seem to be. At least I have pleasant company,” I said. Oh man I was so smooth! I was really proud of myself right there. Flirting was hard with pretty girls, they seemed to throw me off balance.

“Well, that was the least offensive flirting I've heard all day,” she replied. Good gosh this girl was straightforward. “It’s a good thing you’re cute or I might not have accepted that.” Cute. Okay, I could work with cute. “So you’re in psychology 1000?” she asked.

“Nope, I took that during high school.” I replied. Why would she ask that?

“Well, you’re standing in the psychology book pickup line.” She said with a slightly puzzled look on her face. I definitely was not in psychology.

“Oh, Psychology! I, uh, I thought you said, uh, philanthropy. Nope, I’m definitely in the right line." Okay, that was a lie and I was at least 100% sure philanthropy was not a class. But hey, I was under pressure. She looked at me like I was slightly on drugs but moved on without hesitation.

We talked about various meaningless things while the line crept closer to the back of the store. The stunningly blue shade of her eyes made it very difficult to focus on conversation. When we got to the pickup window, she paid for her book and stepped to the side, watching me. I decided to bow out of buying a several hundred dollar book just to avoid looking like an idiot. I comforted myself with the fact that she might think it was funny.

“Soooo. I’m not really in philanthropy. Or psychology. I just didn't want to stop talking to you just yet.” I said with a sheepish grin. Luckily for me, she laughed.

“Alright then Mr. Jake, what books do you really need? Maybe we can go stand in line again.” I listed off several books that I needed for classes.

“Calculus. I need that one as well. Come on silly.” She turned her back and started walking. I followed right on her heels, a goofy grin plastered all over my face.

That was my first interaction with Clara. We spent the next two hours gathering all of our books, and at the end I carried her rather large pile back to her dorm room. I was promptly rewarded with her phone number and some cookies that her mom had packed.


“Hey. What about this one?” Clara’s voice comes from beside me. I lean over to look at the paper again.

“This time just take the anti-derivative of cosine and solve for x.”

“Oh right. That's the last one.”

“What do you want to do now?” I ask.

“How about we go to your room and see if we can make your roommate uncomfortable enough to leave?” She says with a mischievous grin, bringing those deep blue eyes nearer to mine. She always seems to find an excuse to kiss me.

Even now he sneaks away,
Leaving his family behind.
No longer caring what they say,
He can't stand to be inside.

On the roof, above the twelfth floor,
Looking out to the distant moon.
A quarter million miles more,
He hopes to be there soon.

Now his feet, they dangle free,
On the edge of life.
He knows there is so much more to be,
But has always considered this night.

He hums a tune softly to himself,
Space Bound by Eminem.
He dares not sing it to anyone else,
They wouldn't care enough to listen.

It defies, yet describes himself,
The impossible journey so far.
Wondering if he should call for help,
He examines again the stars.

He's on the edge, a moment profound,
Between two types of infinity.
One the universe that so surrounds,
And two, the end of all he could be.

Both so huge, so permanent,
They both could swallow him whole.
He can't tell where he would be sent,
When they put him in a hole.

He thought he had done so well,
Believing himself worthy.
But as his promises all fell,
His soul now feels *****.

He snaps back to the moment,
And the horror of it all.
But realizing his cares are spent,
He somehow doesn't fear the fall.

This is the only place he feels alive,
When he's walking that fine line.
Trying to recall when he felt the drive,
To stay and live and shine.

He remembers all the lively vigor,
That flooded through his veins.
He recalls what it was like to be a lover,
And let her take the reigns.

It screams through him,
A passion he cannot contain.
Forcing its way through him,
The shocking, driving main.

The phantom tears fall,
Not really there but real.
Time has slowed to a crawl,
As he remembers what it is to feel.

Once again he snaps back,
Reality greets him with a gust.
Struggling to control this attack,
He tries to find his trust.

But he's off his high,
The adrenaline has gone.
Still so fascinated by the sky,
He forces himself to go on.

Climbing down, he sighs aloud,
Nothing remains the same.
The moon is coveted by clouds,
And he hasn't gone insane.

He examines himself, his solid being,
Curious about his existence.
All of what he is seeing,
Seems as from a distance.

He pulls out his keyboard,
The journal of his sins.
The only thing in his world,
That when he calls, seems to listen.

He writes about a tragic man,
And rhymes all of his conflicts.
He locks it inside, as was his plan,
Twenty six little convicts.

Wondering within, in his head,
He scours for the truth.
He fears that it is all but dead,
The honesty of youth.

How can one man feel so alone?
Solemn tears of such despair,
Sitting atop his gilded throne,
His soul begins to tear.

He is so loved, but alas,
Fast love is not his cure.
He wishes for something that might last,
A peace that might endure.

He spends his nights,
In dying hatred of himself.
His many, many internal fights,
Have left him little else.

He denies, but knows it true:
He has finally come to fear.
His trust has finally fallen through,
He can't allow anyone so near.

Betrayed too often, taken and used,
His spirit taken for granted.
Now accustomed to being abused,
All his dreams have slanted.

He now believes that is his role,
The savior and the help.
Each case has taken its toll,
And nobody knows how it felt.

Now he lets a few come close,
But he dares not admit his flaws.
Beaten but unbroken,
Still dodging sharpened claws.

He put his faith in God,
And forces himself to believe.
He often wonders if the book is flawed,
But sees all he has received.

He lives life by logical decisions,
And this, mostly is true.
His heart has never found direction,
When he doesn't know what to do.

Now he no longer trusts his heart,
And so relies on luck.
He's waiting for a girl set apart,
One who loves poetry and trucks.

He drowns within his regrets,
Hating the things he has done.
Remembering the cruelest bets,
And all of those he has won.

Counting the hearts he burned,
Leading them on and on.
Recalling how each finally turned,
After he told them to move on.

He listens to the songs,
The lyrics describing love.
Now he thinks they might be wrong,
As he doubts what is above.

He sees in himself many gifts,
But he wonders if they are imagined.
Is he the one creating rifts?
Is there nothing good within him?

Does nothing really set him apart,
Is he truly just the same?
The numbers say that he is smart,
But he has outgrown his fame.

All his life he has been told,
That he is different, special.
But now as compliments grow old,
He again begins to wrestle.

In his heart he thinks they lied,
Inflating his confidence.
But now that his ego has died,
He dares not reminisce.

He climbed and climbed on great wings,
A beacon of joy and smiles.
But now they hate whenever he sings,
And his jokes don't make them smile.

He rarely screams or loses control,
But he can't comprehend what they say.
An extinguished spark within his soul,
Wonders why they pushed him away.

And so he goes, on and on,
He has not yet found his end.
All that was right is now wrong,
And so he constantly pretends.

Writing words as though they matter,
Laughing as if he cares.
His trust fades as it scatters,
And he keeps stitching his tears.
.
.
.
.
.
I slowly arise from my seat,
Glad that man is not me.
The clouds hide the moon from sight,
And it is far too late at night.

I'm refreshed and even smile.
I haven't had peace in a while.
The phantom tears nearly fall,
As I admire the beauty of it all.

The sky is so wide, so infinite,
I could lose myself within it.
Happy memories fill my mind,
Of all those I hold inside.

Folding chair my comfy throne,
Though tonight I am alone.
But I know that I am so loved,
A better life I can't think of.

From the floor below I hear a sound,
Eminem's Space Bound.
I hum along to the beat,
Wishing my own words so fleet.

One more glance into the sky,
I dream of soaring, flying high.
Smiling broadly, loving life,
I bid the beautiful world goodnight.

I was not always who I am,
In fact, I don't even resemble my previous self.
My friends, if in fact you are reading this,
Put all your old memories on a shelf.


Do you remember the freshman who was always quiet?
The one you might have seen down the hall?
The one everyone called a friend,
But never really knew at all?

You know the one, how can you forget,
His shoes and shaggy hair?
The way he smiled to himself,
When you didn't notice that he was there?

Do you remember the timid laughter,
As he struggled to fit in?
Coming to the monstrous place,
Where not a single person knew him.

I'll bet you never knew.
No, I know you never did.
All the feelings, thoughts, words, actions,
Were all the things he ever hid.

He strut his stuff down dusty hallways,
Secretly hating the way he was.
Incapacitated by his own ignorance,
Choosing to just accept his flaws.


Do you remember the sophomore who always smiled?
The one who was called the nicest boy?
Of course you do, everyone does,
You said his presence was enjoyed.

This was the year he began to see,
The direction his life was going.
He stopped dead, shocked, in his tracks,
When he saw was he was becoming.

He hated himself to the point of breaking,
But he didn't break, he just bent.
He resigned himself, accepted his fate,
As his heart and confidence were rent.

He receded into himself and his life,
Refusing to push harder; to push on.
If only the poor idiot had known,
He could have worked to a faster dawn.

But instead he became lazy,
People only knew him as the nice guy.
And for a while he was satisfied,
Until he found the final question: Why?


Do you remember the junior who always looked high?
As though his mind was always far away?
Of course you do, everyone does.
Because that was the year he learned to play.

That was the year that people finally saw,
Another side to the quiet, nice guy.
That was the year that would change everything,
Because he decided to change what was inside.

"Why?" is such a simple question,
But one that entails the entirety of life.
It was in this search that the boy,
Found something deeper in all his strife.

This was the beginning of a new path,
One that took years to complete.
But it was one that led him higher,
A throne to replace his lowly seat.

He finally learned to love himself,
He learned to throw caution to the wind.
He learned to build and better himself,
He finally learned to love again.

These things did not come easily,
Nor were they close to instant.
The path was long and tedious,
But the boy was finally persistent.

Only a small change was noticed,
He took his seat among varsity ranks.
People noticed a personality,
Where once before had seemed so blank.

The few who he let closest,
Noticed something deep within him first.
Two helped him build and grow,
One tried taking his potential for herself.

Fighting through he found himself,
Another year had passed him by.
But what the boy finally knew,
Was that he could change who he was inside.

Do you remember that one senior boy,
Who walked the halls with a grin and hint of swagger?
Of course you do, how could you forget,
This was the year that boy became bigger.

He suddenly wasn't just the quiet or nice guy,
Everyone looked on as if he were new.
What was the confidence that was in his eyes,
Where once only weakness and fear grew?

This was the question everyone asked him,
The one that everyone wanted to know.
What had happened over that summer,
That caused this whole new person to show?

He couldn't give them an answer,
How could he describe what he had done?
How could have possibly explain,
That he had learned to let go, live, and love?

Suddenly the ones who had ignored him,
Were asking him for his advice.
It felt so good to be validated,
After a lifetime of cowardice.

Do you remember the first game of the season,
When he blew the crowd away?
The ferocity and abandon that he carried,
It was his new favorite way to play.

Do you remember the first dance of the year,
When suddenly he was dating the track star?
Nobody could believe she came onto him,
The quiet boy who had come so far.

Do you remember how he was suddenly important?
It was because he knew all the dark and ***** secrets.
The quiet boy you thought meant nothing,
Suddenly knew everyone's weakness.

Do you remember how he led the class?
He was suddenly leadership material.
You cheered him and his team,
When the trophy was hung with his orange Mercurials.

Only one person thought to ask him,
What exactly had happened, what had changed?
He smiled quietly, once again and said,
I let myself out of my cage.

It took four years for him to love himself,
To find confidence among his fears.
To build himself into a better person,
To gain the respect of all his peers.

The hardest part throughout it all,
Was not to feed on his new found pride.
To retain the innocence of his past,
And somehow keep kindness in his stride.

He was voted friends with everyone,
And indeed, he truly was.
An entire school known by name,
He graduated to thunderous applause.


Do you remember the college freshman?
No, of course you don't.
You haven't really met him yet,
Most of you probably won't.

He's doing well, the quiet boy,
He finally found a balance in good and pride.
He thanks you for teaching him about himself,
The testing grounds where he reached inside.

He thanks you for being exactly what you were,
Some kind, some not, some indifferent.
Without each and everyone one of you,
He might have remained weak and ignorant.

Now he lives his life the best he can,
Living and loving each and every day.
He lets cares pass him all by,
Only letting peace and happiness stay.

He learned to love himself,
That the most important of all that changed.
The confidence and wisdom inspired him,
To live his life unchained.

Surrounding himself with the best people,
Loving life and all its trials.
Holding those he cares about,
Almost forgetting the quiet boy in denial.


I've written here about who I was,
Because it defines who I am today.
I am no longer the weak, quiet boy,
I think the confidence is here to stay.

Learning to love myself,
Was the key to my happiness.
Everything good that has happened since,
Is a result of choosing to leave the sadness.

I write not for my own vindication,
Although in hindsight, it sounds this way.
I merely wish to express my changes,
In as few memories as I must say.

I've lost precious minutes here,
Typing out this soliloquy.
And now I fear that it must end,
There is more life for me to see.

Here I go, into the night,
Who knows what I will find.
I love to live my amazing life,
With this peaceful state of mind.

Hello Darkness, my old friend,
The self-doubt that comes creeping in.
Hello Darkness, fickle and fiendish,
It is nice to see you again.

Hello Ambition, my old mentor,
The hunger that has me ceasing never.
Hello Ambition, controlling and unending,
It is good to see you again.

Hello Fear, my old companion,
The sickness that feeds my abandon.
Hello Fear, raw and uncut,
It is nice to see you again.

Hello Anger, my old lover,
The fire that never sated hunger.
Hello Anger, lean and strong,
It is nice to see you again.

Hello Lust, my old partner,
The taste that pushed me harder.
Hello Lust, empty and rich,
It is nice to see you again.

Hello Love, my old *****,
The red and gold double edged sword.
Hello Love, lying and cheating,
It is nice to see you again.

Hello Night, my old mother,
The love for which I killed another.
Hello Night, deceitful and peaceful,
It is good to see you again.

Hello Envy, my old rival,
The burning need for my survival.
Hello Envy, cold and hard,
It is good to see you again.

Hello Curse, my old bride,
The one who eats away my pride.
Hello Curse, persistent and pursuant,
It is good to see you again.

Hello Gluttony, my old coach,
The pain that ate away my hope.
Hello Gluttony, empty and barren,
It is good to see you again.

Hello Pride, my old brother,
I love you more than the others.
Hello Pride, full and robust,
It is good to see you again.

Hello Darkness, my oldest of friends.
It was from you that I was born.
Hello Darkness, come to swallow me again,
From the light I am torn.

A toast to you
A toast to me
A toast to the dreams that we can achieve

A toast to stars
A toast to skies
A toast to the moon still bright in our eyes

A toast to the distance
A toast to the calls
A toast to our laughter running down halls

A toast to tequila
A toast to shots
A toast to the nights we together forgot

A toast to libraries
A toast to the nooks
A toast to us hiding deep in the books

A toast to goodnight
A toast to warming
A toast to kisses and tickles all morning

It's not that you should care,
I just wanted you to know.
Now with the story told,
It is time to go.

Changing words change again,
Here I change for someone else.
Altercations to be avoided,
Placing words upon a shelf.

edit: original poems removed

*Second edit: I really regret ever removing these. The original poems have been lost for good.

It should have been us.

We both know it to be true; it should be you beside me. It should be you laying here next to me. It should be you riding shotgun with your hair blowing in the wind. It should be you I’m writing love notes to, you I’m calling at midnight, and you I’m taking home from this bar.

It should have been us.

It should be me beside you. It should be me laying there in the hammock, reading beside a river. It should be me taking goofy pictures with you at the mall. It should be me using my sleeve to wipe your tears and my kisses to flush your cheeks. It should be me, beside you.

It should have been us.

We would have been so great together. We would have been never better. We would have learned to laugh and love and live through whatever came at us. It should have been you and me, you and me, you and me… Forever

Tickle torture,
Pillow fight,
Midnight scorcher,
Summer night.

Lighting bugs,
Croaking frogs,
Loving hugs,
Burning logs.

Scary stories,
Nervous laughter,
Starry glories,
Shortly after.

Heaven's floor,
Billion lights,
Living for,
Summer nights.

I laughed when I was faced with death,
Sometimes I think it was my test.
But did I pass or did I fail?
Am I on the victor trail?

Is this the life of he who won?
Or is this just how I come undone?
A frivolous and pathetic life,
Is that the path I carved that night?

Did I somehow lose myself,
Choosing to die for someone else?
Or was it right, to let them die,
While I watched and stood idly bye?

No, I think, I made the right choice.
I listened to that destructive voice.
The one that told me to jump ahead,
Knowing it that I could soon be dead.

For in that choice my power came,
The fearlessness and focused aim.
The laugh that stood as a shield before,
Still remains to stand strong once more.

I love that I chose to die,
Not for myself, but those at my side.
I love knowing I chose that death,
That I chose to stand in for someone else.

I love the glory, I loved the fame,
I love the memory of him taking aim.
It feeds the demon that is my pride,
It nourishes the bravado that I feel inside.

People look at me as though I am more,
Something beyond what I was before.
Some think me a hero, others say insane,
But it feels ******* great that they know my name.

Perhaps I'll put it on my resume,
"I once stood and laughed death away."
Then again, they would make me explain,
And that would only just bring up the pain.

Because I hate that night,* the way it went.
I hate that even one casing was spent.
I hate that luck is why I survived,
I hate that it wasn't some quality of mine.

It sickens me that I chose death,
That I willingly elected to take that step.
I did not want to die.
I am thankful that death passed me by.

I am thankful of whatever power or might,
Saved they and I on that February night.
Whether chance or fate, I won't ask why,
But I am glad his bullet passed me by.

Blood stains have dried,
Battlefield gone silent.
A war has waged,
The peaceful turned violent.

Weapons used and abused,
They litter the ground,
The bodies removed,
Leaving only empty sounds.

A winner. A winner?
Who can win such games?
The blood pain poured out,
Tribute to misguided aims.

The winner lies in who lives,
Who manages to survive.
He that learns to love the war,
Lies on the winning side.

This war was not ordinary,
No quibbling little parts.
This was war of the worst,
That of two bitter hearts.

The battlefield, now in ruin,
Was not always so.
Once it was a field of beauty,
Where life and love did grow.

Slowly, slowly, over time,
The field began to die.
The caring became careless,
Battle beginning with a lie.

Skirmishes and little tussles,
First seemed so ordinary.
But each ended without resolve,
Leaving both sides wary.

Then finally a skirmish broke,
Into what both had feared.
It seemed then the war begun,
The ending quickly neared.

Full fledged attacks, raining down,
Left wounds open and bleeding.
Pain and hatred flowed together,
To watch the love receding.

Tirelessly both sides battled,
Seeming doomed to contend.
Until the day the black notes played,
And one side saw an end.

He saw that she now loved the pain,
Got high on each ****** drop.
He knew that to continue was loss,
That it all must come to stop.

He won the war by losing,
By losing the last of his heart.
He crawled away, clutching scars,
Knowing he must depart.

A winner, winner? Yes indeed,
It is he who can survive.
She lost herself to the blood lust,
And he scarcely saved his life.

I was he who crawled away,
I lost my heart by choosing.
Though scars still remain,
I won the war by losing.

4/16/2014

I was not always who I am,
In fact, I don't even resemble my previous self.
My friends, if in fact you are reading this,
Put all your old memories on a shelf.


Do you remember the freshman who was always quiet?
The one you might have seen down the hall?
The one everyone called a friend,
But never really knew at all?

You know the one, how can you forget,
His shoes and shaggy hair?
The way he smiled to himself,
When you didn't notice that he was there?

Do you remember the timid laughter,
As he struggled to fit in?
Coming to the monstrous place,
Knowing that he was truly alone.

I'll bet you never knew.
No, I know you never did.
All the feelings, thoughts, words, actions,
Were all the things he ever hid.

He strut his stuff down dusty hallways,
Secretly hating the way he was.
Incapacitated by his own ignorance,
Choosing to just accept his flaws.


Do you remember the sophomore who always smiled?
The one who was called the nicest boy?
Of course you do, everyone does,
You said his presence was enjoyed.

This was the year he began to see,
The direction his life was going.
He stopped dead, shocked, in his tracks,
When he saw was he was becoming.

He hated himself to the point of breaking,
But he didn't break, he just bent.
He resigned himself, accepted his fate,
As his heart and confidence were rent.

He receded into himself and his life,
Refusing to push harder; to push on.
If only the poor idiot had known,
He could have worked to a faster dawn.

But instead he became lazy,
People only knew him as the nice guy.
And for a while he was satisfied,
Until he found the final question: Why?


Do you remember the junior who always looked high?
As though his mind was always far away?
Of course you do, everyone does.
Because that was the year he learned to play.

That was the year that people finally saw,
Another side to the quiet, nice guy.
That was the year that would change everything,
Because he decided to change what was inside.

"Why?" is such a simple question,
But one that entails the entirety of life.
It was in this search that the boy,
Found something deeper in all his strife.

This was the beginning of a new path,
One that took years to complete.
But it was one that led him higher,
A throne to replace his lowly seat.

He finally learned to love himself,
He learned to throw caution to the wind.
He learned to build and better himself,
He finally learned to love again.

These things did not come easily,
Nor were they close to instant.
The path was long and tedious,
But the boy was finally persistent.

Only a small change was noticed,
He took his seat among varsity ranks.
People noticed a personality,
Where once before had seemed so blank.

The few who he let closest,
Noticed something deep within him first.
Two helped him build and grow,
One tried taking his potential for herself.

Fighting through he found himself,
Another year had passed him by.
But what the boy finally knew,
Was that he could change who he was inside.

Do you remember that one senior boy,
Who walked the halls with a grin and hint of swagger?
Of course you do, how could you forget,
This was the year that boy became bigger.

He suddenly wasn't just the quiet or nice guy,
Everyone looked on as if he were new.
What was the confidence that was in his eyes,
Where once only weakness and fear grew?

This was the question everyone asked him,
The one that everyone wanted to know.
What had happened over that summer,
That caused this whole new person to show?

He couldn't give them an answer,
How could he describe what he had done?
What was is there to say,
That he had learned to let go, live, and love?

Suddenly the ones who had ignored him,
Were asking him for his advice.
It felt so good to be validated,
After a lifetime of cowardice.

Do you remember the first game of the season,
When he blew the crowd away?
The ferocity and abandon that he carried,
It was his new favorite way to play.

Do you remember the first dance of the year,
When suddenly he was dating the track star?
Nobody could believe she came onto him,
The quiet boy who had come so far.

Do you remember how he was suddenly important?
It was because he knew all the dark and ***** secrets.
The quiet boy you thought meant nothing,
Suddenly new everyone's weakness.

Do you remember how he led the class?
He was suddenly leadership material.
You cheered him and his team,
When the trophy was hung with his orange Mercurials.

Only one person thought to ask him,
What exactly had happened, what had changed?
He smiled quietly, once again and said,
I let myself out of my cage.

It took four years for him to love himself,
To find confidence among his fears.
To build himself into a better person,
To gain the respect of all his peers.

The hardest part throughout it all,
Was not to feed on his new found pride.
To retain the innocence of his past,
And somehow keep kindness in his stride.

He was voted friends with everyone,
And indeed, he truly was.
An entire school known by name,
He graduated to thunderous applause.


Do you remember the college freshman?
No, of course you don't.
You haven't really met him yet,
Most of you probably won't.

He's doing well, the quiet boy,
He finally found a balance in good and pride.
He thanks you for teaching him about himself,
The testing grounds where he reached inside.

He thanks you for being exactly what you were,
Some kind, some not, some indifferent.
Without each and everyone one of you,
He might have remained weak and ignorant.

Now he lives his life the best he can,
Living and loving each and every day.
He lets cares pass him all by,
Only letting peace and happiness stay.

He learned to love himself,
That the most important of all that changed.
The confidence and wisdom inspired him,
To live his life unchained.

Surrounding himself with the best people,
Loving life and all its trials.
Holding those he cares about,
Almost forgetting the quiet boy in denial.


I've written here about who I was,
Because it defines who I am today.
I am no longer the weak, quiet boy,
I think the confidence is here to stay.

Learning to love myself,
Was the key to my happiness.
Everything good that has happened since,
Is a result of choosing to leave the sadness.

I write not for my own vindication,
Although in hindsight, it sounds this way.
I merely wish to express my changes,
In as few memories as I must say.

I've lost precious minutes here,
Typing out this soliloquy.
And now I fear that it must end,
There is more life for me to see.

Here I go, into the night,
Who knows what I will find.
I love to live my amazing life,
With this peaceful state of mind.




I realized that I am at an extremely happy moment in my life and I wanted to spend some time remembering how I got here. All of the toils and troubles and terrible experiences that I had have culminated to this one moment, this one day, this one year. Every choice I made, every word I said has been working towards the state of happiness I now experience. If I write with more than a hint of ego it is because I do feel pride for having come so far from the person I used to be.

I am in love with chance and all her open promises, inherent risks, and bountiful rewards. I am in love with the idea of gambling myself into existence and riding the dice on a whim. Certainty bores and scares me, permanence poisons my happy mindset. I need risks and dangers and dumb ideas, it is in these that I find the fruit of life.

I am in love with chance. She calls my name often, beckoning me to spend the night. She seduces me with ***** talk and a proven mind, flooding my heart with her drug. I long to fall into her, with her, to kiss her mouth and taste the poison of an uncertain life. I crave her in the night when there is naught but doubt in my mind.

I am in love with chance and the chaos she brings. She is a storm that tosses my little boat on waves that could equally take me to paradise or a watery grave. She is fairness and equality, for chaos is truly fair, it rids me of order and structure. Her screaming pleasure enraptures me with a sodden wealth and unhealthy appetite for potential glories.

I am in love with chance. She is my mistress, my plaything, the dark shadow that leaves my bed before the morning light. She is the elusive lover to whom my young heart belongs, the fiery being to which my trust is pledged. Chance has yet to let me down – perhaps that is why I love her. I am never disappointed in chance for she is, above all, fair and just. There is not evil or malice in she, there is no hidden agenda or destructive intent.

I am in love with chance.
I am in love with chance.
I am in love with chance and her barren wealth.
I am in love with chance and the way she feeds my zealous lust for life.
I am in love with chance and she loves me.
I am in love with chance and I must choose…

I must choose between her love and your certain certainty.

Earth below and sky above,
This the place I truly love.
Where looking out to vision's end,
Heaven and earth begin to blend.
The earth juts up in jagged heights,
Creating these rugged sights.
Snow capped peaks, white as flour,
Dazzle the eyes this morning hour.
The crest of the sun begins to show,
Casting shadows on the valley below.
The luscious grass still this morning,
Drops of dew, still adorning.
The hand of God paints the sky,
Oranges, yellows, reds all fly.
This, the pinnacle of perfection,
This, the source of my affection.

-For Kelly

It's nights like tonight,
When I don't know what to do.
My brain is all jumbled,
With the many thoughts of you.

There lies a question,
And an answer untold.
Either sadness and pain,
Or joy will unfold.

The problem is thus:
It's so right but it's wrong.
It's not what I've hoped,
But desired so long.

She's unlike any other,
Truly among the best.
I can think of nothing,
But her head on my chest.

A mind like an ocean,
Rich and full as the sea.
Her heart like the night sky,
As beautiful as can be.

Words flow from her lips,
Like silken dew drops.
Each something amazing,
With each, my heart stops.

Her eyes are like embers,
With cool, steady flame.
They stand or invite,
With no hint of shame.

Her hair drops like honey,
A gentle flow and cascade.
Not pure or flashy,
None better was made.

Her lips as heavenly,
As the petals of rose.
Of the color and texture,
Where so much of it shows.

Her body is soft,
Like snow in the morning.
So perfect and subtle,
It needs no adorning.

Her style is gentle,
The most perfect blend.
Not shabby nor excessive,
Without need to amend.

She is sublime.
There is no other word.
I can think of no other,
Dictionary proffered.

She is original,
Her own one of a kind.
She is amazing,
Something rare to find.

Finally, she is captivating,
So entrancing to me.
Wherever she is,
That's where I want to be.

But most, above it all,
She is my torturous pain.
The reason I'll be disappointed,
Time and time again.

She can't be what I want,
She just can't reciprocate.
There is nothing I can change,
This is the terrible fate.

I'm destined to love,
Someone who can't be mine.
Fatefully ******,
Can't get her off my mind.

I'm dying inside,
This time it's real.
Is this what pain is?
What is it like to feel?

I thought I'd saved myself,
I thought I'd done right.
But my soul is being torn,
Regrets cloud my sight.

I'm turning to an empty shell,
You thought me cold before.
This, the chill of despair,
Leaves me gasping on the floor.

The guilt destroys me,
It eats me alive.
The torture of my conscience,
Like the acid now inside.

I nearly broke today,
The closest I've ever come.
The weakness made me angry,
My stoicism undone.

My limbs drug heavy,
I couldn't think straight.
I'm reliving my 4 year,
Eternal debate.

But all is already lost,
I cast my dice years ago.
The part of me that held hope,
Never let my brain know.

The dreams that kept me going,
Have faded unto black.
The only thing I dream of now,
Is trying to go back.

My bed has transformed,
It is now a time machine.
It lets me travel back to when,
So much less was seen.

I fall asleep in the past,
But I wake to filthy present.
My beliefs start to **** me,
Faith I've come to resent.

These dreams are my punishment,
And none worse could there be.
They take me back to my failure,
And they crush me to my knees.

Imagine your own pain,
Yet twas not your fault.
Now imagine mine,
I am my own result.

It was not another,
Who cause this, my terrors.
It was only I,
Through my own errors.

Through my frailty and fear,
My idiocy and weakness.
My very own decisions,
Are what have brought this.

I used to wonder,
And ponder on love.
I deemed it a choice, no,
A curse from above.

But now I can see,
I was wrong yet again.
At least for me,
It is the definition of pain.

Death looks upon me,
And down with a grin.
And suddenly I fear it,
For my soul has grown thin.

For once in my life,
I wish not to die.
I have unfinished business,
From which I can't shy.

This hatred will follow me,
I wrote my own curse.
I chose through my weakness,
To ruin my only verse.

The pallid cloud surrounds me,
And reminds me of my shame.
It hurts just to say it,
To whisper my name.

The self pity angers me,
And yet, it is revealing.
Because for the first time,
I can't control my feelings.

Bittersweet this now is,
You might think a victory won.
Yet, such irony I am now,
Chained by my own freedom.

My priorities have come to light,
And they are not what I believed.
For years and years it seems,
I have been self deceived.

This pain is beyond bearable,
For it was not fortune's call.
It was I, and only I,
Who brought about this fall.

Part of me desires death,
The rest plods shakily on.
Either way, I can't control,
My heart dies with every dawn.

It seems to me so fitting,
That I've done it to myself.
I, who felt so in control,
Have destroyed my own health.

I am a cannon, firing blind,
Not tied nor anchored down.
Blasting holes and blowing smoke,
At everything around.

So I'm wondering now,
Is this what it is to feel?
It burns like a nightmare,
Yet this one feels so real.

I'm living my hell, my punishment,
How fitting it should be.
That life, the only thing that I loved,
Should so soon be taken from me.

I sealed my fate with a choice,
A failure to secure my own:
At the end my life, my night,
I will always be, alone.

Sometimes, rarely often,
I lie awake, awake at night.
I wonder, wander, ponder,
The theme of you and I.

Though my soul blooms sick,
With ever lasting, lasting doubt,
I try to find, fend, comprehend,
Just how I'll go without.

You and I, such doomed hope,
This play of such, such cruelty.
Fate molded, melded, welded,
I to you and you to me.

Through scenes of flawed perfection,
We dance, dance and sigh.
Still flitting, flaunting, wanting,
Our freedom and the sky.

“Get that stupid *** grin off your face and kiss me!” And so I did. I leaned in until I was inches from her rosy lips, waiting for her to come the last little distance. She did so readily, with a warmth and a salt taste that I knew I could never forget. Her hand found my knee as I reached around to gently caress the back of her neck, my heart pounding in my chest like waves on the shore.
          We stayed that way for a while, exploring each other, the sun beating down. I could feel it burning my shoulders and back but didn’t care in the least. This was a passionate kiss, not wild, but with the depth and quality that so few have, the feeling that only comes with connection.
          We held the kiss as the waves rocked us, occasionally lapping over the side of the surfboard. With legs hung over the side as we straddled for stability, the salty water kept us plenty cool. It was complete serenity; one of the rare moments when there are no mental distractions and a person can become lost. Despite the perfection of the moment, I couldn’t help myself and the thought of pushing her off the board again made me grin trough the kiss.
          “What’s so funny?” she asked with feigned innocence. I could see the twinkle in those incredibly dark eyes, the little spark that always drew me in and fascinated me. Countless little freckles on her nose were newly accented by sun kissed cheeks, holding a slight rosy glow that was very becoming. My hand had fallen from her neck and I used it to playfully splash a little water on her leg.
          “Oh, nothing,” I said with a sly grin, “I was just, uh, thinking about how beautiful you look right now.” She knew me too well, easily seeing through my fib. Apparently I just couldn’t hide the way I felt from her. She had always told me that she could read secrets in my eyes, big or small, but that was okay with me. I had never needed to hide anything from her.
          “Is that so?” she grinned, with a devious look in her eyes. God I loved that look. She bit her lower lip just slightly and played with a loose tendril of hair that had escaped her ponytail. Then she leaned back on the board with her other hand, watching me. I had seen this so many times before; I knew exactly where it was going.
          “Well, actually I was thinking about pushing you in the water again. But then I remembered we were being nice to each other today.” I said the last bit with a bit of a wink. She had always said she loved it when I winked, so I purposefully used it sparingly. A guy has to have a few tricks of his own, right? She always seemed to have the upper hand on me, no matter what we were doing.
          I think she had me figured out as nobody before ever had. It was nice, to say the least, to have someone whom I had to work to surprise or impress. It kept me interested, kept me challenged, which is exactly what I needed to make me happy. She was a challenge. A beautiful challenge, and I loved it. It was exasperating at times, frustrating to work with, but I knew that in the end I would never have had it any other way. She was perfect as she was.
         A beautiful, dangerous, **** challenge is what was going through my brain as I sat there watching her. She had tanned this summer, her skin taking on a golden tone that made it irresistible to touch. Today she wore my favorite bikini top. It was red and hung down in a small triangle in front of her chest, patterned like a bandanna. Small drops of water still clung to her forehead and chin from the last time we fell off the board. In my mind, a scene of perfection, and she knew exactly what I thought.
          “Well... Maybe I’m not in the mood for you to be nice to me right now,” her voice trailed off as she pulled her feet out of the water and placed them just inside my knees were, to where her toes barely rubbed the inside of my thighs. The movement brought a tingling sensation where we touched and brought my heart to a pounding beat again. She was still leaning back just slightly on one hand, playing with her hair in the other. Her back was arched inward, so that the triangle of bandanna was extremely prominent. I knew what she was doing, but so did she. Her eyes traced up the board from her toes, up my chest, to my eyes. She stopped biting her lip as the devious grin once again took its throne upon her face. **** that grin.
          “Actually, I know I’m not in the mood for you to be nice to me right now.” This time her voice was laced with seduction, barely audible above the waves meeting the shore. She slid her body along the board towards me, her legs underneath my knees, my calves and feet still in the water. My heart was pounding out of my chest at this point, and my breathing was a little heavy. I partially hated that she could do this to me so easily.
          We were very close, her thighs slid just under mine, her toes touching the middle of my back. I lightly rested my hands on her legs, the golden skin feeling like heaven beneath my fingertips. She still had her back arched and she knew ****** well how good she looked as she slid her hands up the outside of my arms and up to my shoulders. She moved those rosy lips towards me once again. ******* she was beautiful. She stopped when her lips were touching my ear. I knew she could feel how tense I was, how fast my heart beat, how electrified I was by her. Then she whispered.
          “Sucker.” And with that she threw her entire weight over the side of the board, her hands and legs dragging me over with her. The salt water rushed up my nose and into my eyes, burning. I surfaced, spluttering, trying to see again to the sound of her laughter. I stood up, the water only a few feet deep out here on the sand bar.
          “**** you **** you **** you!” I did my best to sound angry, but I couldn’t keep myself from smiling through it all. She was still laughing, loving her own joke. I splashed water in her face, still dripping wet.
          “I hate you.” She knew that every time I said it, that I meant the exact opposite.
          “The look on your face as you went over. Oh my god. You totally thought you were going to get some on a surfboard. Oh my, pffft that was funny.” She was still laughing, standing a few feet away, having not defended herself from my frustrated splashes. The look on my face was a mixture of amusement and frustration. I knew she loved the look, it gave her some sort of satisfaction in having gotten the best of me. I watched her walk through the warm water over to where I stood, arms crossed in front of me. She wrapped herself around me, giggling, and reached up to kiss me again.
          She was always a challenge, this girl. Always a beautiful challenge.

5** Years
1825 Days
43800 Hours
2628000 Minutes
157680000 Seconds

Of my life.

That is how much you took from me.
The time I spent dying.
That is how much I gave for you.
The time I spent trying.

That is how long that I have dreamed.
The time I spent away.
That is how long it took me to understand.
The time I spent delayed.

Forever doesn't seem so long,
Once the water finally clears.
The filth all swept down the drain,
With imaginary tears.

The story of the hero,
Though mournful to behold,
Does bring to light a glorious end,
The one I soon will hold.

Five long, sad, years,
Spent in something like misery.
They shaped the person I've become,
They defined the who of me.

They cured me of all weakness,
Of hope and love and light.
They broke me down and built me up.
Inspiring confidence to flight.

Nearly two thousand days,
Not one did miss a thought of you.
Such emotion did they inspire!
But alas I made it through.

I know those days to be over,
For you are left behind.
Twenty four hours passed,
Not a hint of you on my mind.

Forty thousand hours,
What a joke that number seems.
Yet over ten thousand,
Spent seeing you in my dreams.

Now hours are spent alive,
Full bodied and whole.
None spent lost in hopeless dreams,
Warm bodies against the cold.

Millions of minutes you ruled my heart,
You who governed my desire.
I laugh aloud at the thoughts,
Of the weakness you inspired.

Looking back at me, I can see,
Each moment spent a mistake.
But as is the nature of such things,
Those again I'll never make.

A hundred million seconds.
That is how long I loved you.
Up until the very last,
I knew it to be true.

Like forbidden fruit on sweetest vine,
I truly wished to partake.
But through the years, days, hours, minutes, seconds,
You were my biggest mistake.

My whispered words fall softly,
Upon downtrodden ears.
Even now I wipe away,
Your quarter crystal tears.

You come to me in the silence,
Your anguish knows no bounds.
I hold you and I love you,
Listen to your tearful sounds.

I run my fingers through your hair,
Tell you it will be alright.
Clutching you tight against me,
As you shiver through the night.

When morning comes I wake you,
Beautiful as you sleep.
I try to imagine the terrors haunting,
While you sink in dreams so deep.

I take your hand and raise you up,
And show you to the sunlight.
I hold you tightly, yet again,
You made it through another night.

I pack you up, gather your things,
The ones left laying by the door.
I whisper gently, yet again,
And pick you back up off the floor.

I can't help but help you,
Your tears scald my heart.
I can't help but hold you,
When you beg me play the part.

---------

So many nights I held your hand,
Trembling but unbroken.
I learned to love you a little more,
With every heartache spoken.

Every time you found affection,
It brought you so much pain.
I died just slightly, every time,
I watched you circle the drain.

Sometimes I spoke harshly,
And let my rage fly loose in ink.
But never did I hate you,
When you pushed me to the brink.

I'm sorry for those days of anger,
I just couldn't take it all.
Just as soon I held you close,
When you would stumble and fall.

It's been five long, painful years,
That I lived and breathed for you.
I'll still hold you, dear Madeline,
Though our time is all but through.

The pain I feel at our parting,
It tears away a part of me.
Now I must trust in you,
As I am forced to set you free.

I hope you can remember the nights,
And live them through with memory.
Remember sunlight and your daisies,
Please, live amongst life's beauty.

--------

My whispered words fell softly,
Upon your delicate ears.
I hope that I served my purpose,
Easing your midnight fears.

I ran my fingers through your hair,
I told you it would be just fine.
Clutching you tight against me,
Your tiny body trembling against mine.

You grew so much in that time,
I hope you now see the beauty of life.
Remember that I will always love you,
Forever my friend, in darkest night.

Haunted by a terror past,
Hope blooms for futures bright.
I whispered words in the silence,
Just so you lived another night.

Stirring deep within the clouds,
A force of untested strength.
Snapping and crackling,
Searching for the shortest length.

Electricity just waiting to strike,
Uncontrollable and without bounds.
A lost wanderer within sky,
Always trying to find the ground.

This is my life, all that I am.
No home, no life, no purpose to call mine.
Every strike satisfies desire,
But leaves something broken and burnt behind.

I need something to hold me down,
To focus all my energy.
Something to keep me coming back,
That isn't charred by me.

It must be strong of will and heart,
It must stand my full on might.
Something that gets me out of the clouds,
On each lonely stormy night.

It needs to be irresistible,
Through every path soon trod.
I need something, I need someone,
To be my lightning rod.

It was first time in a long time,
That nothing held me back.
Years had passed it seemed,
Since I had no strings attached.

Strings I then cast off,
Constrained by no thing or one.
Never again to miss a chance,
No responsibility but fun.

I live life like I wish,
Finally, truly free.
Happiness in letting go,
In living just for me.

I surround myself with like people,
Enlightened, cheery, loud.
We run around and love our lives,
Not worry nor doubt is found.

Some call us irresponsible,
But only those unlike us.
They haven't learned their full potential,
They look with old disgust.

But they can't begin to hold us back,
When we are flying free of all.
We have no past, no future here,
Only the present in which to fall.

Occasionally we lose a member,
One whose weakness drags them down.
Sometimes it is unrequited love,
Sometimes they guilt for those around.

But we fly on, on,
I don't see it ever ending.
We have now surpassed it all,
Our will is never bending.

Occasionally we find others,
Who share our enlightened state.
We frolic and we play and laugh,
Engage in lively debate.

We are not on a path to failure,
Please don't get me wrong.
We still ensure our own successes,
We just don't worry about it long.

What is the point of living life,
With faulty hopes and dreams?
Why not let go and live for yourself,
Define what this life means?

This is where I found my peace,
My full love and happiness.
No strings attached is my best way,
I've never loved more than this.

Without fail we will go on,
Loving life to its fullest.
Quietly aiding those drowning in demons,
Showing them why life exists.

Until my bones are but dust,
And my heart fails to beat,
I will free myself from the dirt,
And live as I want to be.

Rolling meadows drenched in white,
Floating fields of such delight.
Just breath in the sultry air,
Soak it in without a care.

Lots of little children's feet,
Have left the track with printed beat.
Your bare feet, not fleet as those,
Love the dust between your toes.

Drop down now amidst the flowers,
You won't be missed for several hours.
Lie on your back, look to my sky,
Don't you think, don't wonder why.

Pull a daisy from the ground,
Plenty more, all around.
Pluck petals, small and fair,
Watch them drift off through the air.

Hold against your tickled nose,
Scent sweeter than any rose.
Innocent smiles light your face,
Reflecting the beauty in this place.

Petals fallen in your hair,
Fuzzy bees flit through the air.
Butterflies on painted wing,
Float as though on broken string.

High above the clouds pass by,
Imagine shapes, if you try.
The sun beats down on summer skin,
Warming your heart, from within.

Pull more daisies from the land,
Hold them gently in your hand,
Squeeze them softly against your chest,
They won't mind if you rest.

Footsteps raise you from your sleep,
Rising out of dreams so sweet.
But it's alright, smiles crack,
He's holding daisies behind his back.


A girl asked me for a poem about daisies. I complied.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for accidentally lying when I said I wanted to be with you.


I think perhaps I fall in love often – I fall hard and fast, without remorse or concern.

I think perhaps I fall out of love often – I grow tired and bored, unexcited and suppressed.

Unfortunately I fall in love before others and I fall out of love before others. I leap into the arms of people who aren’t ready to commit, then walk away just when they are ready to endure.

I hurt people. A lot.

I’m not sure when it started, but its still going on. I can think back on 3, 4, 6 people in the last few years that I have broken it off with after I promised them love. I left without warning, without hesitation. I feel bad about it because I don’t want to hurt people, I don’t want to cause pain, but I feel that letting things fester while I am unhappy in a relationship is worse.

It still hurts. I still watch tears fall. I am still avoided when passing on the sidewalk. I am still badmouthed in fraternity bathrooms and in social media. I watch my best friend and lover become someone who hates me, who wants to cause me pain, who then spreads my secrets and laughs at my failures.

I don’t want to hurt people anymore, so perhaps it is best that I do not date. Perhaps it is best if I never commit or kiss anyone without the careless and superficial setting of a night club dance floor. Perhaps I need to mature and wait until I can find peace and stability, where I won’t switch between adoration and frustration so quickly and suddenly.

My friend might have been right when she said “I don’t think you can be in a relationship right now.”

Maybe I can’t be. Even if I can, maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should just accept that I need to wait for life to take its course and should stop trying to capture every shining opportunity that I happen to meet in the library, the pool, a coffee shop, or the gym.

Maybe I should let those opportunities go past and should wait for the ones that come when I am older. Perhaps I should wait for the golden opportunities I pass in the grocery store, at work, in line for the DMV.


Is my maturity the issue? Am I subconsciously not ready to commit myself to someone? Do I have some twisted sadistic sense of humor in which I like tricking people into thinking I love them?

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for accidentally lying when I said I wanted to be with you. I’m sorry for when I made up some ******* excuse about why it wasn’t going to work when the reality is that I was bored and restless.

To you – M, B, L, M, A, and R.  I’m sorry that I am a *******. I’m sorry that the devil has blue eyes.

You are better off without me than you ever would have been with me.

Every twinkle of every star,
Another point upon the canvas.
A speck, a dot, oh my perception!
It cannot understand the vastness.

A light, so strong, raw energy,
Reaching me across it all.
Ten trillion miles and countless years,
All culminating in this call.

A thirst for greatness, every dot,
My aspirations feeling heavy.
The twinkles there are my call,
A reminder to set me free.

What lies the love bestowed upon,
By each single burning star?
What inspiration can I derive,
When I am here, so far?

I feel their strength, though remote,
Hidden through seeming innocence.
For here they seem nothing more,
Than each tiny, finite resistance.

But alas their size, nay, my perception,
Grants not mirth but awe.
For I know them as they truly are,
Power, glory, impunity; nature in the raw.

They inspire and define me,
For they reveal our insignificance.
But then again, that one perspective,
Grants my will and steely confidence.

And so I gaze, daring but to dream.
I know them all as they are.
Where I one day will be:
Floating, flying, free and far.

Crystal drops
Of salt and sin,
Dribble down
To trembling chin.

Bluest eyes
Of deepest hue,
Swim in oceans
Deep and true.

Midnight hair
Dark as space,
Hangs all shaken
In your face.

Luscious lips
Full and soft,
Tremble gently
No sound aloft.

Hands clenched
So small and smooth,
In your lap
Unable to move.

You sit alone
Among your fears,
Just letting fall
Your crystal tears.

2013/3/18

*This is part of a conversation between me and a girl. We both write poems back and forth to each other. This poem is in response to her asking if I was telling her how I felt about her "between the lines."


The language found between lines,
Is purposely caged within confines.
The tumult found within the head,
Leaves the best left unsaid.

Does it even matter that we see,
The words hidden in each degree?
What good would come if then,
We listened to the words within?

Maybe the best is better left,
Between the lines, thought bereft.
If you wanted to, you could express,
Those three words within your chest.

But how could I come to believe,
That I was not being deceived?
All the evidence poured out over months,
Has left me unsure of all the wants.

Maybe freedom of heart is close,
Maybe it is what I want most.
Even now, as I lie in bed,
I wonder at those, words left unsaid.

If you can decipher such curious rhymes,
And even still read between the lines,
Then you should understand my quandry.
And understand why I don't know if I'm free.

Because sometimes, no matter the rhyme,
There is nothing you can do this time.
Nothing will erase the past,
For me, acceptance will only come last.

If you can't imagine why I hold back,
Then perhaps take a small track.
Imagine it from my point of thought,
And maybe then you'll see why not.

If others read this, they would know me insane.
If they read ours, they would know pain.
If they read yours, they might not see your best,
But what they should see, you're a beautiful mess.

Again, for C

I remember how I nearly died,
With rusty blade into my side.
Warmth of blood upon the skin,
Crack of bone from deep within,
Icy tingle of fingers numb,
Heart unsteady, broken drum.
Vision narrow, unfocused eyes,
Tightened lips repressing cries,
Ears unable to hear a thing,
Stench of sweat, nostrils sting.
Pressure of boot upon my chest,
Enticing tired body to rest.
Eyes slowly, peacefully close,
My soul into the darkness goes.
Darkness.
   Darkness
Darkness
Blinding lights through squinted eyes,
Something in my chest still tries!
Now roaring noise all around,
Ears hearing every sound,
Yells, screams, monitor beeping,
Blood, blood, blood, still seeping!
Fingers, toes all still cold,
Hand searches for something to hold!
Gloved hands send back to gurney,
Forcing me to complete this journey.
Morphine now! Doctors screaming,
But I am already back to dreaming.
Darkness.
   Darkness.
Darkness.
Eyes open to shadowed ceiling,
Someone asks how I'm feeling.
Lips too parched to answer yet,
Side stitched, ribs reset.
Heart strong, steady beat,
Woolen socks scratching feet.
Cheap cotton on finger tips,
Hospital bed, IV drips.
Turning off the light my guest,
Leaves me to my gentle rest.
  Darkness
    Darkness
  Darkness

I wander lost in wondering lust,
Following a stream to the source.
Lick my lips and take your hips,
Yearning bodies take their course.

I travel on gravel dawns,
Making a journey every morn.
Take flight after every night,
Satisfied and reborn.

I light flames and write names,
Ignoring social stigma.
Follow their trail without fail,
I seek out each enigma.

Follow me.
I know where I'm going.
Follow me.
My greatness bestowing.
Follow me.
I can light the way.
Follow me.
I know what to say.
Follow me.
You won't understand.
Follow me.
Just take my hand.
Follow me.
And have not a doubt.
Follow me.
I will lead you out.
Follow me.
Wait where are you going?
Stop, follow me!
What the heck, seriously?
Follow me ******!
Come back!
Alright, alright I'm coming...

Everyone tells me that I’m the type of guy you fall in love with,
That I’m the type of guy every girl dreams of bringing home.
That to most, I am more than they had dreamt of.
But I’m not that guy,
I’m the guy that breaks your heart.
I’m the ******* that will let you fall in love with no intention of reciprocating.
I will leave you when you least expect it,
When you think that things are going great.
I’ll be the one to crush you.
The devil has blue eyes.
The devil has blue eyes.
He has perfect hair and a flawless smile.
He has a smirk and a charm,
An endearing laugh.
He’s funny, he’s flirty, he’s fit and handsome.
Everyone tells you he’s the type of guy you fall in love with,
The type of guy they wish they could bring home.
The type of guy they’ve only dreamt about.

I am trapped by my own ideology,
Stuck between a rock and a hard place:
What I want and who I want to be.

How can I choose which is better for me?

One, a desire – a hunger, a burning passion that is mine. It has become a part of me, defined me, and helped craft me into who I am.

The thought of losing this desire sickens and saddens me. It is all I can think of right now, how I would be unable to grasp the warmth and pleasure.

I will miss it. It will always be on my mind, always somewhere in my chest. It will be beating, gnawing, eating me alive from the inside – for I will have no way to let it out.

This is the rock, the want for which I love and enjoy and hate to lose. This is the desire that I will constantly be reminded of, that I will have to battle against – spending so much time and energy just trying not to miss it.


Unfortunately for me, my desire conflicts with who I want to be.


I want to be good and honest, helpful and holy and willing to sacrifice. I don’t want to be shallow or superficial, I don’t want to choose what I want now over what I want most.

I find it agonizing that I must choose. That I must choose to abstain from all my desires just so that I don’t lose who I am. I know that if I chose what I want over who I want to be, I don’t know where I would wind up. I fear that I would have a crisis of self, in wondering what it is that I am working for, hunting for, seeking out.

Choosing who I want to be has its many rewards, it is a reward in itself. It will bring me laughter and joy, love and happiness. It will bring security and warmth to my life.

But all the while, I’ll be wishing I could have my desire as well. I’ll be constantly fighting off the will to let in, to let loose, to plunge back into the pleasure that I currently have. All the while I’ll just be waiting to find that pleasure again. It will cloud my thoughts, my wants, my needs. It will become a gnawing hunger in my chest that I will have to learn to ignore.

I already know what my choice will be – it is the only one I can make. I know I must choose to be who I want to be, because I won’t be able to live with myself otherwise. I am trapped, pinned by ideology. I can’t risk losing the joy of WHO I want, for the pleasure of WHAT I want. I am trapped.

Trapped.
Trapped.
Trapped.

She tossed her halo back on the shelf,
Didn't take much energy there.
Upon her head it seemed to drown her,
A suffocating glow upon her hair.

She tossed her halo under the the bed saying,
She didn't need it that night.
The room finally bathed in darkness,
Suddenly hidden from the light.

She tossed her halo into her bag,
Where nobody would suspect it.
She threw the bag across her shoulder,
Making no effort to protect it.

She tossed her halo into the closet,
Who's closet she didn't really know.
Everyone loved the stony darkness,
Nothing revealed in golden glow.

She tossed her halo into the trunk,
Saying this time was for her.
They drove on into the night,
Not knowing where they were.

She tossed her halo into the trash,
Revolting from that life.
Rocking on next to her shadow,
She didn't miss the light.

She tossed her halo off the bridge,
Fully embracing the black.
I jumped in to follow it,
I drowned trying to bring it back.

It's nights like tonight,
When I can't close my eyes,
That I walk outside,
And admire these skies.

I offer my prayer,
Aloft to the Lord.
Asking Him gently,
If He might afford.

The luxury of knowing,
The path I should take.
So I might be confident,
In not making a mistake.

Rarely do I wonder,
If my prayer is heard.
For it is my belief,
That disbelief is absurd.

Yet I can't help but doubt,
That the answer will be,
In a way I understand,
Or can even be seen.

So I look into oblivion,
This black infinity,
And I wonder and whisper:
What's the point of me?

Am I but a pawn,
In some giant game?
Is there a point to being,
Or was I born insane?

Does anything matter,
Anything at all?
Or is this just natural,
Men rise and men fall?

I feel there must be more,
Something waiting at the end.
Something calling out,
Begging me to transcend.

To see through the lies,
To find the deeper truth.
To answer the unanswerable,
And rise above my youth.

There must be something more,
Anything to give meaning.
I'll accept an honest lie,
If I could sleep this evening.

Is this normal,
To be so filled with doubt?
So conflicted and saddened,
Within and without?

These the questions,
I ask those billion lights,
On these lonely and cold,
Long sleepless nights.

Some nights I find,
My answer in the stars.
When it finally hits me:
That's all they are.

Nothing special at all,
Scientific anomalies.
Not made for wishing,
No source of fantasy.

Simply there and no more,
A billion all spread thin.
The infinite emptiness,
Crawls beneath my skin.

I have my answers,
Though not to my prayer.
But I am no wise man,
No ancient sooth-sayer.

I am but another man,
Mortal and moral.
Singular and without,
Only part of a plural.

I am without purpose,
No belief in the world.
I stand on the precipice,
My flag fallen unfurled.

My weakness is that I live,
For myself, just me.
It was the only way I had,
Of setting myself free.

Yet now, on these nights,
Under heavenly contemplation,
I regret my selfish ways,
And my human resignation.

If I am to be denied,
A higher understanding,
I then need a purpose,
To inspire commanding.

I need a focus,
A plural catalyst,
Anything to give meaning,
To why I exist.

Something to live for,
Some reason to hope.
Something to die for,
To narrow my scope.

And that is what happens,
Under these lonely skies.
On nights like tonight,
When I can't close my eyes.

I can see that you need someone, something; you need a distraction now. How convenient, here I am. I'll help you bounce back. The perfect rebound, I'm the cure for your new illness.

I'll take you to every beautiful place, I'll kiss you under ever landmark. I'll wipe away their memories, pushing mine into their place.

Let me take you on new kinds of dates, the kind you've never felt. I can show you excitement and danger, how to hit back below the belt.

I'll show you hot and fast. We'll make love and then we'll ****. I'll spin you around and then go down, making you forget whoever he was.

I can act out your fantasies, indeed, you'll play in mine too. I have not shame nor hindrance yet. I am the embodiment of two extremes, push you to your very limits.

In me, you can find everything that a fun relationship may be. You'll find dreams; what you like and don't. You'll forget the pain of the recent past. I am the perfect distraction.

A perfect distraction perhaps, but no more can I be. Odds are I'll get bored and you'll get tired, and we will cease as you and me. We can part ways, shaking hands, retaining only memories as we're freed.

Let me be your rebound, it's something of my speciality. Let me be your distraction, let me set you free.

She sells herself to the highest bidder,
This is the auction for her body.
Flaunting curves of heavenly perfection,
Both her business and her hobby.

She likes to tease the boys,
But loves to torture the men.
Something mysterious, dark, sublime,
It never fails to draw them in.

--

She reads both tabloids and the classics,
This the debate for her mind.
Lost within the gossip but,
Desiring substance of greater kind.

She dreams of high society,
Found in her ancient texts,
But gets off to photos of celebrities,
And the rumors of who ***** next.

--

She sifts through knights and thieves,
This is the courtship of her heart.
She loves to play with the suitors,
Tearing them each apart.

They come in droves to ask her hand,
She toys with all kinds alike.
Bending knee or savage romance,
Unable to decide which she likes.

--

She lies awake unable to sleep,
This is the battle for her soul.
Which is it that she will be?
Her actions take their toll.

She dreams of fields bathed in white,
Innocence pure and plain.
But she loves the dark and dangerous,
Longing to surrender herself again.

Standing before iron rods,
I've reached the point of no return.
Struggling ever against the odds,
The chain on which I yearn.

Words now fail me every night,
When sorrow pours out in thought.
Hope abandons with the light,
Leaving prayers left to rot.

I've tried so many times to say,
What exactly is going on.
I put talent upon display,
But my heart dies with every dawn.

Ten thousand words and many more,
I've left laying, only half said.
The rest are strewn about the floor,
Lifeless, soulless, dead.

I tried to show what I couldn't write,
But neither did that suffice.
I chained myself, cuffed too tight,
Each strain another slice.

Without pause, again I failed,
Letting eyes command my thought.
Delicate plans brutally derailed,
All my work and heart for naught.

I struggle to climb from the ashes,
Like a pathetic, weakened phoenix.
But I again bear new lashes,
While the flaws go on unfixed.

My fate is sealed by my weakness,
Though I knew what to solve.
I'll never recover from the abyss,
I've fallen, even devolved.

Looking up to precipice,
I've reached the point of no return.
I couldn't swallow my pride and ego,
Now too late to learn.

Do you trust me?
You do? Are you sure?

How unfortunate.

I thought you had better judgement.

"Tell me then, what do you see in your future?"

I didn't really know how to say what I thought and I didn't really think that any of them would understand. Could they even take me seriously? I guess I would find out.

"I see myself being free. Free from the normality that society feeds us. Free from the responsibilities that family expects us to take. I see myself wandering this world with nothing and nobody to tie me down. I see myself admiring all that there is to admire, seeing all there is to see, experiencing all that this giant world has to offer. I see myself creating a world that is better, starting with the smallest flaws. I see myself dying an old man, alone, somewhere in a far corner of the world, but smiling. That is what I see in my future."

They looked at me with blank expressions, or at least the few in the middle I was focusing on. I wondered if I should have bothered with the truth. This had better not hurt my chances of getting in.

"So you don't see yourself married? You don't want a nice house and kids? What about a job?"

Why did all of this even matter to them? They clearly didn't understand my first answer. Perhaps they were just shocked that I see myself potentially ending up alone. Or maybe they, like almost everyone else I'd ever admitted this all to, thought that I was just cold and anti-social. How exactly do I answer this one without sounding too abrasive?

"I see myself beginning with a normal job. Hopefully in the aerospace industry. But I have no intention of staying there forever. I would much prefer to be an entrepreneur and make my own way. As for marriage, I don't see myself ever being married. It's not that I don't want to be, in fact, I would love it if it ended up that way. The problem is that I don't think that I'll ever find someone like me. I don't want children or a nice suburban home. I don't want a mortgage or a deadbeat nine to five job. These things are like a toxin to me. They would hold me down, hold me back, and trap me. What woman could ever feel the same as I? Who could possibly prefer to live their life like me, having zero certainty or any form of normal life? No, I think that I will end up very much on my own. The thought does not bring me any certain joy, but I am not afraid to walk this earth alone."

That last part sounded extremely corny and rehearsed after I thought about it. I wouldn't really blame them if I wasn't taken seriously. Still, they looked at me with feigned interest or understanding, while I politely looked back. The leader, the one in the middle, had a slight frown on his face. Maybe I didn't even want to be a part of this 'exclusive' group if they were to be so close minded. I had just made a strong case for being alone anyway. I scanned the long row of faces for some sign.

That's when I saw, at the very end, a girl just slightly nodding. She looked at me with astoundingly green eyes. I could see it in them. Understanding. And just as suddenly, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't destined to be alone. Maybe,  just maybe, there were others out there who might understand.

This Is the Morning

Morning air, brisk and clean,
Water reflecting sunrise sheen.
Fish break the the quiet glass,
Frogs jump as I pass.
Birds twitter in the trees,
Dragonflies buzz as they please.
Boots soaked with dewey damp,
Leave behind their muddy stamp.
Through grassy field, waist length,
Fresh scent lending strength.
Between trees centuries old,
Mottled bark still rough and cold.
From the forest into the glade,
To my stump, still in shade.
Sit and watch nature performing,
Yet another spectacular morning.

11/20/2012

Fifteen years will not find me a suburban home.
Not minivan nor prius in my driveway.
You see, I need space to roam.
I was born for the open highway.

All I need is a 'vette and a Jeep.
Just a cabin in the mountains,
A condo on the beech,
A suite above the Vegas fountains.

I'll never settle, not when old,
And I'll not be tied down by any wife.
I refuse to fill the common mould,
I was meant for the free life.

I wander nightly and ponder your name, questioning your very existence. I seek the truth and to find nirvana – I need something that will listen.

Curiosity finds a deep morose and excitement runs into doubt, the wandering and pondering has me aching in and out.

My heart yearns to find the truth, but, since when has that really mattered? All my life I’ve ignored my heart with its desires and drives so strong and scattered.

How does a man choose a woman? How does a woman choose a man? What drives this ***** love of chance into something deeper, something planned?

Is there a plan to such romance, is it all just luck? Do we cast a die that decides our future or do we just get married, then ****?

What if I think there is more to it? What if I think there should be some logic involved? My heart is flippant, truant, untrustworthy, so why should I trust its random call?

It seems that if I want love to work, my brain must love you too. It must get rid of the doubts, the questions, the inherent sadness; it must find new topics on which to muse.

When I think of you I shouldn’t feel doubt, no, my mind should be as my heart. It too should feel the driving need, the confidence, the certainty, it too should ache like fire when we part.

Should I accept that I have mixed emotions, that there are parts of me morality calls wrong? Should I pay attention to these traits of mine, the ones that when you beckon, begs me not to follow along?

I hold things inside me which are not pure or beautiful, desires and darkness and twisted wants. These things you cannot satisfy, in fact, you combat them on every front.

Should then I strive to ignore and erase these traits of mine, that some might think impure? Or should I embrace who I fully am, get rid of you, and let these traits endure?

For I do not think both can exist, there is no middle ground or compromise. It is you or them, me or you, I think that I must choose a side.

Never will my faults play with yours, never will my avarice for life hold hands with your purity or self-right. Never will you accept my darkness, never to live with my faults, you could never live any life but yours, that the life of light.

So now the questions ramble on, each an elaboration on a theme. It seems that I must choose soon, I must choose who I will be… I must choose to become you, or choose to stay true to me.

Slowly, slowly,
It is seeping.
Losing life,
Softly beeping.

Glowing fainter,
Every flash,
Slightly dimmer,
Than the last.

All I need,
Is a minute more.
Just sixty seconds,
I implore.

It has taken too long,
Life is ending.
Reaching the limit,
No relenting.

The screen goes dark,
Realize my dread.
The line goes flat,  
My phone is dead.

Tortured and taunted,
Belittled and haunted,
By dreams long deferred.
Unable to fly,
Wings have died,
An angel, fallen unheard.

She spends her nights,
Under the lights,
Dreaming dreams pre-******.
They scare and remind,
Of pain redefined,
And lend a phantom hand.

She sits and devours,
So many long hours,
Curiously studying the arts.
She thinks she knows,
The highs and lows,
The wretched art of hearts.

Hope resounds,
Dead rebounds,
Filling the void now seen.
With each hit,
Another fit,
Filling the slit between.

Doubts are wrenching,
The metal clenching,
Failing for too long.
It's like dead space,
Switching place,
Between two changing songs.

She acts as though,
She thinks she knows,
The answer and solution.
Time will tell,
Just how well,
She sees through the pollution.

Perhaps one day,
The Sun's rays,
Will fall on her new wings.
One or ten,
Maybe then,
Happiness will ring.

Will flat notes play,
Until that day,
The reopening of the curtain?
The shrinking soul,
The whips and toll,
She must carry the burden.

Staring down the barrel,
Black is all I see,
I know my target to be there,
Aiming back and me.

I know his eyes are red,
The sh*t he's been through.
I know he's looking awful,
But hell, I am too.

Now my arms are trembling,
The gun shaking in my hands.
Sweat pours down my brow,
From exhausted glands.

The pounding in my head,
Harder than my heart.
I can hear blood rushing,
Senses set apart.

Am I the hunter here?
Or am I the prey?
Sometimes I lose direction,
In these games I play.

I see a glimmer in the dark,
Grip tightens on the stock.
I see my foe, just before me,
My mind numbed with shock.

Standing in a circle of light,
Looking tired and warn.
Stands a man clinging to his gun,
His countenance ragged and torn.

I take a step forward,
In time, so does he.
Only inches away,
Moving along with me.

I raise my gun higher,
He too does the same.
My fear now compels me,
A twitch ends the game.

He shatters into pieces,
Glass shards at my feet.
A thousand tiny fragments,
Reflecting back at me.

It seems I was both,
The hunter and the hunted.
I killed the man in the mirror,
Maybe that is what I wanted.