Those who love will never find it.
Those who love will write odes to crisp fall mornings
And hear symphonies crunched out of the yellow leaves beneath their feet.
Those who love will smile, even though they know
it will give them away
They will offer themselves up as if they had never given the mirror a second glance,
Let themselves be beaten like drums,
And a drum is just a bucket of silence
until you beat something out of it,
Beat something out of it.


Those who love will find poetry in the steam of their coffee
And beauty in even the worst of times;
Leave names like kristallnacht in our history books because they know that broken glass looks like stars,
And when a person truly loves there is nothing, nothing that can stop them from hoping.
People are like buckets of silence
Until you make something out of them,
Make something beautiful.


People who love know that tears
are the same as rain, and they are ready for monsoons
Because loving is lonely,
and for every drop out of shining eye
there are hundreds more waiting in the sky
and the people who love will dance in the downpour,
Collect every drop they can hold where the silence once was because drums can hold tears too,
and they will still be silent until you splash
and make something out of it,
make something beautiful.

I guess you could say
It'l be a soon to be mystery,
Something new,
Out-of-the-blue,
Where thoughts just won't align,
Something that we've all once embraced,
A long long time ago,
When no thoughts were traced,
By ourselves,
Because of the fear of ourselves,
It was a long long time ago,
When nothing was understood,
And once things hit you,
They puncture the very center of your soul,
And it depends on who you are for how to take it,
How to take the hate,
How to take death,
And how to take fate,
But I think it's safe to say,
Eventually everything goes away,
A scary and traumatizing thought but
The key is to take it differently,
Once everything goes away,
It doesn't really go away,
It stays for the right people to embrace,
And the wrong people to jealously face,
But its up to you to create,
And the mystery, is really...
What is it, and who are you?

What is a name?
A label that defines a person
Describes them flawlessly
Yet it also confines them
Puts them in a box
Live up to your name

A name serves an important purpose
To call you
To haunt you
Because names stick forever
Like glue

They follow you like a dog
You own the name?
Or does the name own you
Don't let a word define you
Drag you down with it

squeeze you to read you,
the pores that pour out hidden punctuation
that defines and makes and creates pauses for
you to look beautiful in.

there are two velux windows somewhere
in the world that look out onto chimney pots
and rooftops and birds next to each other looking
out over a flight plan that they'll fly together.

in pub seats we'll slide into and across,
placing coats on empty chairs so not to be stolen
and you pause. And out comes a list from behind a breath and a
colon: everything you wish to achieve in a year.

Who is she?
The girl in the red, white and black dress.
The girl in the shiny, brown eyes.
The girl in the innocent smile.
The girl in the fragile, white skin.

Who is she?
The girl that passes me by.
The girl that caught my eye.
The girl that enchanted my soul.
The girl that I'm too shy to talk to.

Who is she?
The girl with no name.
The girl with no history.
The girl with no age.
The girl with no flaws.

Who is she?
The girl no one knows.
The girl no one talks to.
The girl no one sees.
The girl no one likes.

Who is he?
The boy who fell in love with a total stranger.
The boy who dies to know her name.
The boy who wishes to write on her blank pages.
The boy who dreams of co-starring her history.

*That boy is me.

On my knees by the bed
Praying for forgiveness
One shot in the chamber
Hoping I don't have to outlive this

Six shot revolver pressed to my right temple
Hand so steady, despite the potential
Of a tragic end to a tragic life
The thing i have dreamed of for the past thousand nights

Father above please guide me home
Your kingdom is waiting I can't go it alone
Because the night is dark and full of terrors
Please give me this, one last guilty pleasure

Lord hear me and answer
Please bless this revolver
A one in six chance
For my corpse at an altar