my heart is aching for something i cannot name
burning like a moth to a flame
wordless
soundless
emptiness
bells ring
horns honk
and still i sit on this rock
wondering what it is about this hour that seems to leave me this way
and about what it will take to stay on the rails this time around
--how deeply must i adjust to the darkness before i can see in the light?
is there some sort of switch i must find?
within or without?
in this world of distorted mirrors and shadow games,
how am i ever to …
listen to what my eyes can't see
feel what my body won't register
and know what my mind refuses to touch?
am i really here at all or is even this self i portray an illusion
wandering through this maze of riddles and rhymes until my feet give way and my heart
my heart
my
heart
*succumbs.

My heart-rate is unreadable
But for something I can't describe
This is probably just me being an idiot
Or just something I shouldn't advertise

But it seems like we dance around
The elephant in the ******* room
Just making sure our skin doesn't tear
When it touches under the sun or moon

I just can't ******* tell right now
If this is mutual or just in my head
A mockery of my emotional distress
Or signals that are correctly read

I won't be able to focus on anything
Besides my insides being torn apart
Should I feel bad about these feelings?
This situation demolishes my heart

I'll tell you when you pinched a nerve
Like when we talked that Thursday night
But is it OK if I'm still totally confused?
And only slightly filled with fright?

I’m sending all the letters that I wrote to you.
Each on paper; plain, lined or scrap,
in pencil or pen with misspelled letters
and scratched out words.

A text would have been faster
a tweet would have been easier
but I can’t tell you I love you
in any less than 3 pages.

So I’ll take them to the post office
and send them out today
they’ll make it to you first
but I’ll be on my way.

The more I try the more I feel like I am losing myself
The right partner, the wrong time
I desire to get my hands *****
To sleep by choice under the stars
Yet I am conforming to a world of cushion

I stand a lost man
Searching for a feeling that imprints a smile
Maybe I am in denial
Feeling to filed and organized
This infatuation of a picket fence,
is not me

There's a voice in my head repeating born to be wild
To ride on a motorcycle at sunset through a canyon with no home
Just apart of the road  
No structure
No direction
Just alive

I battle these thought daily
I fear leaving her and the pain it will cause
Though as it must, the truth prevails
Sirens and bells, heaven and hell
I feel like I'm losing myself

There are no shapes that can be formed by my lips  
No position that I can place my tongue in  
And nothing I can make my throat do  
To express what begs to be heard.  
There are no brushstrokes,  
No lines and no dots that can convey  
What is brimming inside me.  
Even the loudest sound  
Echoing off the bouncing of a string  
Or from air colliding through a brass chamber  
Would fail to touch what I wish to utter.  
No vibration  
No frequency  
No wavelength nor amplitude  
Could even come close to the  
silence that emits from the apertures of my face,  
a silence so total  
and a heart so raw  
Even the strongest attraction  
At the most microscopic level  
Would crumble before  
  
*this.