it's incredible
how i stopped wishing
that somehow
we'd get caught under a mistletoe

Its true.*

We live for eternity.
We all live even after death.
Forever and a day* after that.

And when I die
You'll still find me living.
In the trees and in the air.

In the mountains,
And in the waves on moist mud
Driven by the breath of Earth.

And after the world dies,
You'll find me in empty space.
Or perhaps near an asteroid.

And...after the universe dies,
I'll be either in a crammed cosmic egg
Or in a torn and still place.

Its not a promise of immortality
Not even anything about a soul.
(Because I don't know what is a soul
And thus can't express it through words)
But its a promise of eternity
Which shall never be broken.

Because its a promise we have made
To ourselves.

I fall to easy
Am I too kind
Life gets greasy
But I don't mind

My heart thrown out
Into the fields of war
A healing hand
Wanted forever more

A soft hearted fool
Played by the game
In a world of cruel
You'll never leave the same

Pain of the street
I'll take the chance
Of being fresh meat
There is dormant peace, just take a stance

The world's in our hand
It's all up to us
Together we band
For the right and the just

your cheeks
apples waiting to be picked
your nose
a button holding the threads of your thoughts together
your eyes
portals ******* me into fantasies of weddings on southern plantations
your smile
foaming tips of waves crashing with every word you speak
your lashes
palm trees swaying to the sea's breeze
your voice
honey dripping from the comb
your love
indescribable

I'm writing high on life
With the clock ticking away
I dream everything all at once
With images that flash by
I remember those words you spoke
The last embrace you gave me
It makes me feel spectrums
Making lines across my heart

Breathe.

Settle yourself.

Try to understand.

We were meant to love.

And if we can not love, then we were meant to try to love.

And failing that we were made to breathe.

And try again.



-Sean Critchfield

here's how it happens
the morning after
you reach into the drawer
where the your t-shirts live
to find it austere
you'll shrug because
you're still drunk
& you can't remember
when last it was
that you had something wet
or how long it's been
since you made the floorboards blush
or why the carpet is upset
who wouldn't be
the contents to the upended ashtray
strewn around the apartment
resemble the aftermath
of the smallest war
to ever take place in norfolk
some midnight thief
must've made off with the lighter
because it isn't in
any of your favorite spots
maybe you chucked it
along with a hundred other things
that make noise when they land
in the neighbors yard
you won't remember putting
the refrigerator's belongings
in the bathtub
or scrawling a buzzard
on the bedroom door
but then again who would
you'll pretend it's spring again
before putting on your winter coat
to go out front with a cigarette
in your mouth
you'll hope for a passing stranger
to *** a light from
or drag yourself to the corner
with couch cushion change
to buy a new lighter
and on your way
you won't bother looking back
this is just another day
on eggshells for no reason
another november
choking on birthday candles
on your way home
you step over beer cans
the kind you fell in love with
and wonder who
had the last laugh last night
or if anyone said a word at all
it might've been another
moment of clarity
it might have been some idiot savant
any adjective that feels like home
anything that keeps you thirsty