Everyone you see is the main character of their own story
With their own plots and supporting casts
Friends are just people with overlapping narratives
That's why train cars are fascinating to me
The entangling of so many narrative threads
So many people that i'll never see again
We are a series of rivers
Thousands of tributaries flowing and converging
For a single shining moment

People are always giving me notebooks
Once they find out I write
At christmas
At birthdays
At random
At least two a year
They sit in a stack on my shelf
Hundreds of pages blank
Hundreds of poems unwritten
White page syndrome
Magnified ten fold
Intimidation radiating off them in waves
I prefer to use a computer
There, the pages are infinite
The limits are unknowable
No silent expectations to fulfill
Just a never ending canvas

I wish I was a character in a novel
My conversations would be meticulously crafted
I would never be at a loss for....words  
There wouldn't be          long          awkward
Silences
                               Between sentences
I would never have to repeat myself
I would never have to repeat myself
I would never be unblurred
No i  said misheard
My thoughts wouldn't s-s-stutter right out of the gate
Causing a ten word pile-up in my mouth
I wish I could make life more novel
I just want to trim away all the fat
All the conversational excess
To get to the real meat of it
Do away with all conversational trivialities
And just move the plot forward

Twisting labyrinthine thoughts
That fork off endlessly
Into impenetrable darkness  
That leads me astray
Away from sleep
Away from solace
A downward spiral
Endless free fall

Cursed by geography
By Latitude
And Longitude
Enslaved by History
Ground drenched with blood
Corrupted by ghosts
Toxic down to the bedrock

Trudging through untouched snow
Face made red by the wind
Cold felt in my bones
Distant stars looked down on me
From the depths of space

Drinking cold water in summer
Relaxing in the reclining lawn chair
Watching clouds drift
Mockingbird's melody carried
On the wayward breeze

Scrambled eggs sneak under my door
Finds my nose
Jumpstarts my motor
My stomach howls
In an instant
I'm down stairs feasting

We're the lone car on the highway
Everyone else is gone
The only ones left in the universe
That greases my throat
Confessions and secrets flow
In the sanctuary of two am

When Inspiration strikes
Fragments and whispers
Condense, take form
Go from thoughts to paper
In an instant
They go as quickly as they come