In the darkness of night, or by the light of day
Waiting for hours with nothing to say
When wonder turns worry and knowledge to doubt
The truth becomes lies and silence to shout
The louder the cry the more muffled the plea
Lost miles away from where we should be
Open and honest and ugly and raw
Without wasting time with the hem and the haw
Memories fight oversights hidden by masks
Begging a thought is a torturous task
Still waiting for a hint or a clue or a sign
That the strength of a heart beats the power of mind

I bit off more than I could chew,
When I said I wanted you

You were a mess of scars,
****** by awful men
And I was a boy,
Trying to lick your wounds

"I wanted to fix you," I said
Foolish boy,
You can't fix people

I should have called it quits
But your kiss left me breathless
And I was at wit's end

You ****** me too,
And when you were through,
I was no longer a boy,
But a shattered man

Now I've got a scar or two,
But what does it prove?
That I've learned my lesson?
Or that I'm ready to **** up again?

A beautiful white blanket
Covers the ground
Not a soul was outside yet
You couldn't hear a sound

The first snowfall
How majestic are the trees
Painted with pure white
They are so beautiful and bright

Here comes the plows
Salt trucks too
Covering the beautiful painting
With black and some blue

What a shame
Let nature be
At least the didn't salt the trees

She likes an archaeologist
cos he does it in the dirt

and the older she gets
the more he likes to flirt

She likes the way he smells
in a faded work shirt

hard and lean
but not mean
just a little bit assertive

He still let's her roll
her own cigarettes

and handles her gently
like a gold statuette

while they dance
with the shadows
down low

you know.

A distant look in her eyes,
Stretching beyond the horizon.
A battle long fought,
In her dreams so surreal.
A thousand miles did she walk,
Before pausing to rest.
But the lights began to fade,
For it was time for her sunset.

She looks up at me from the
Stroller, eyes wide open as
If she's never seen a shaved
Head before.
I'm guessing it's the head.

The tram is packed full of people,
And my country boy soul cringes
At the touch and smell of a
Hundred strangers.
So I focus on the little angel princess
Strapped gently to her

Throne on wheels, and in the
Vast space that our eyes meeting
Creates, I breathe pure, fresh air.
The tram is a hall we have to
Ourselves, and I'd trek to
The end of the universe

To find the last piece of candy
In existence, just to return,
Travel worn and outer space
Accustomed, just to place it
In her tiny hands
In gratitude.

Little pieces of you flow through my veins among the plasma and blood cells. Bits of you bump into molecules of oxygen and they smile. My heart loves you. It pumps you through my ventricles and asks my body not to filter any of you out. My brain sends out constant oxytocin in your presence and my hippocampus keeps memories of your touch within easy reach. My body loves you just as much as I do.