There was a time,
A year into the future,
when we used to frolic and dance in the sand.
Usually, I don't like beaches,
I hate large crowds,
Hate 'em hate 'em
and I will 'till pigs fly.
Sometimes I think I'm not like the others
even though I desperately wish to be.
I'd like to donate my shoe collection
to the Salvation Army, or Goodwill,
for them to be put to better use
instead of sitting unused
surrounded by crumpled tissues and overdue books.
Or I could build a time capsule
to be opened the next century.
Hopefully the future Ebenezer Scrooge
finds the Ghost of Frolicking Past
and actually learns to enjoy beaches.

I remember,
My usual nonchalant demeanor going completely bananas in my cubicle of a room
After enlisting to deliver you ice cream.
No, not just any ice cream,
Strawberry with bananas and gummy bears.
I thought it as an awkward combination
But when I got in the car,
The sparrows were flying in two adjacent v-shaped formations.
Slightly puzzled, I pondered if maybe one day I'll meet a sparrow, or anything with enough courage to brave the skies,
Soaring, knowing in time, their wings will tire, and locating a perch is then of importance.
Because life's goal, humans and creatures alike,
Is to find a whisper of a nightingale's song,
Or, possibly, the eccentric taste of a spoonful of their favorite ice cream.

It gets... agonizing.
So, very agonizing, and she wonders through the days,
"will it ever end?"
Perhaps, maybe, the divinity of nature
struck down on the undeserving.
A mistake is not a lifetime
                            but a good portion of it
and deep down she knows she couldn't
but each day regrets her decisions
and rubs lamps on nightstands littered with lotto tickets.
To make matters worse, or better,
all around her are visions of joy,
                            happiness, love?
And by accepting her fate,
she embraces, and acknowledges,
that the deed was surely done,
and life in death.

I wanted to write this to you a lifetime (or two) ago.
But, my apologies, I couldn't muster up the courage,
The way the ocean pits of Mars glints in your gaze
stops me in my tracks.
I tried running, rushing, ranting, pretending I was amazing,
all to grab a fraction of a second,
the chance to see beyond this planet.
Your soul, the very essence, it’s divine, extraterrestrial,
the sudden urge to maximize my potential while exploring the depths of yours
and, if Mars were to one day collide with Earth,
My only wish is to end up in one of its pools

It was spring.
She knew it, and he knew it too,
That none of them had ever felt
the blooming of a myrtle, billowing
through the toxic waste ridden, loose,
unsettled earth. Never once had they heard
the sound of a newborn baby girl,
arms outstretched, wailing and wiggling
desperately searching for her father’s gasp.
It was spring.
No longer was the need for oversized fur coats,
for she now donned high-waisted shorts and a floral headband.
He didn’t understand,
his boat shoes had served him faithfully through the seasons.
But now,
It was spring.
They had ambrosia, and with each sip,
a new wave of blissful intoxication spread through them.
The new hip outlived the old hop,
The beach bodyguard was more trusted than the cop.
She stared deep into the clouds:
Never before had she seen
a cloud carry a continent, colliding
with the twisted, darkening sky.
She knew the smell of rain.
It was spring.

“My sole goal in life is to keep racing
down the interstate without a clock
so I can keep going until people forget who I am.”
In my head I knew I was wrong
hypocritical, insane, illogical, but above all I was still
humane!
This, yes, this sole fact is what keeps me
separated from you
draw a straight line down the road we lived on
the squares and the circles.

You, with your fancy plaque and NHS bumper sticker
With the family of four and no reason to feel failure
With your perfect scores and magnificent vernacular
Who let you have it so easy?!

Me, with my Jimi Hendrix poster
family of who knows how many
and the chance to earn my GED in a few years
Why was it me?!

You met your wife in the 10th grade
You gave her a promise ring and everything
Even took her with you on spring break
Who said you didn't have to try?!

I was placed in the wards that year
they said it was insanity
I thought I was just thinking ahead
Why can’t they understand?!

BUT THEY ALWAYS UNDERSTAND YOU!

You, your Shakespeare perfect jargon
Mr. Right, Perfect, next coming of Beethoven
You were made to please everyone and become important!

And that’s what separates us.
Even though it’s the same street that raised us
I bought the Harley and your parents got you the Chevy.
And I recall the one time I was flying down the interstate
And caught up to you as you were going nothing higher than 70.
I stared at you and you kept your eyes on the road.
I don’t blame you, I knew that you just wanted to see my bomber jacket
I have a skull on fire on the back of it
So I gave you a great view
hope you enjoyed it.

Empty bottles of coke
faithfully littering the floor around my
desk, bed, anything they can lay their hands on.
A naive combination of sleeping pills and energy drinks
On my nightstand,
patiently waiting in anticipation,
for their next chance at tempting me into submission,
the poor man's deviled eggs with a side of Hennessy.

Ah, how great it would be,
if the lonely bottles of water by my television
could possibly purge me
Or, maybe, offer a Depression-era baptismal service
So I can find my peace of mind,
as another bottle hits the floor.