I have no need for what I want, for what I want cannot be what I need.

I want the deep breaths of an adolescent to grow louder,  to overtake dreams that haven't been true since the last generation swept them up from dusty hallways.

I want the smell of old paper to succumb the thoughts of those who want to change the rotation of life as it comes, making their life worth it.

I want the wrenching love held in everyone's heart to be pumped through every word and action used to be "the better part" of the story, to be caressed against the grainy surface of doubt, filling it with grace, and to be smeared along the cracks along ever weak solider in need of a purple heart.

What I want isn't always what is needed, but I'd often like to think it is.

(j.a.r.)