please don't blame yourself
nothing was up to you
you cry for days and days
but there was nothing you could do
please don't hurt yourself
I cant bear to watch you bleed
someone so true and pure
should never feel this harsh defeat
you never did a thing
to warrant all this pain
you don't deserve the thunder
and you don't deserve the rain
ive never been a rhymer
ive never been much good at all
but I promise you my angel
I will never let you fall
I will repair your quiet breaks
I will never leave your side
I wont ever make you wait
ill be here til the day I die
I wont let you be alone
even when you try to hide
I wont let you take this blame
I don't care how hard you try
you dont just twinkle like the stars
youre the sunrise in my sky
youre the most vibrant flower
youre the day and youre the night
please dont blame yourself
there is nothing left to do
but be calm and understand
the one who matters now is you.

What do you think
of the blood in the sink?
Did you think you could climb out your veins?
Would leaving your being
give a new meaning
to the vessel that will remain?
This is the day
they will look back and say
is the one that started "the change".
And they'll all find
at the end of their time
that you were the one who was sane.

(They were too full to open their brains,
so now they take the blame.
Wisdom and Light are mistaken for Lunacy,
I'll follow this, while you follow me.)

You read a poem aloud about the word bible. You speak of your eyes rolling back and as I watch your lips release these heavy words, you captivate me further and further. By a minute from now I will forget to regret the addictions we've formed together. I wonder if this is how religion began; how they sat and penned a holy book. And I want to know then who our god is...but tonight I think we both know.

They say I was built to aid them, so they congregate daily to make use of me.
When my legs can no longer support myself as well as their needs, I will be gone.

                                                                  //A table's understanding of purpose

(no hard feelings)

forward forward forward
going somewhere moving forward
whether progressing or regressing
growing or unlearning
coming or going
living, dying
everyone believes they are moving towards something
and as everything happens all at once
each perceptive reality is entirely different than any other
and each consciousness travels, and does, and is.
each consciousness believes it has a purpose or a path.
the purpose is not to see into nor plan the future.

from the civilian to the hero tv shows and movies
have consistently glorified the ability to see visions of the future
generally this is followed by someone trying to prevent
the happenings in said vision from becoming reality
and distinctly failing because they "saw into" the future
that their own energy influenced

but the true super power is to be able to look into the past.
to prevent the omitting of details and data
to avoid a rewrite of our conscious interaction with this planet
not to white out the chapters that bear the truth in the textbooks
to recall history so it does not repeat itself

my question is then
do people disguise the wrongdoings of those hidden by the passing of time?
because they are ashamed of the mistakes of their ancestors pasts?
because they are ashamed of their participation in past consciousness's?
because they are ashamed of the atrocities humans have inflicted upon each other and themselves as well as their home planet since the beginning of recorded time here?

or do those who have the power to omit and hide history
purposely rewrite it?
do they mask the pains of the past so the rest of us will forget?
so that even they can forget?
so their next consciousness can unknowingly, while predestined,
have hand in crimes against the world all the same as committed in the lost past?

how many times has someone written these words
or a similar combination
only to delete the post?
burn the pages?
backspace the message?
stop themselves from speaking them aloud?
cover the symbols?
pass out of conscious living mid sentence?
lose them to a past lifetime?

how many times has this cycled through the same way?
how many times have I been me?
how many times have you been me?
how many times have I been anyone?
how many times have I been?

is there a rhythm or is it all as scattered and random
as the thoughts that bring you
to this kind of an understanding of the habit of misunderstanding?
the kind of thoughts that bring you back to the birds nest because you were too early for even the worm?

they will all catch up eventually
after all they all think theyre moving forward
and they don't even know where they've been.
they don't even know that they've been.

I had a dream about you
and now all I can think about is empty cups
and branches without leaves
and the blank sky during the new moon.
I wish I could talk about the way
you make me forget I'm sick
and how tonight I want to be around you
because that's when things are kelly green instead of navy blue.

And for my next trick
I'll vanish with no trace
not quite by magic
they'll still see my face
leave my body behind
defy time and space
take my soul and my mind
so they don't go to waste
a new bringer of light
will inherit my fate
to meet constant fear
disregard and disgrace
as darkness grows near
I am leaving this place
and to all it is clear
I will not be replaced

Junkyards are cemeteries too
they're just the ones no one brings flowers to
or visits after they've said goodbye
and they are filled to the brim
with forgotten wheels and empty bodies
and I am sick of these wheelbarrow operations
and the way the mice eyes sparkle
as they wait by the mailboxes
that don't even belong to them
for love letters from the cats that will never come
because when she said "I love you"
it was a junkyard kind of goodbye that she meant

I want to be close enough to hear the ringing in your ears, but if you heard the ringing in mine would you even pick up the phone?
Because your conscience is clear and as long as your secret can keep a secret, your eyes are too empty for anyone to tell.
But I know that to tell how someone is loving you've got to look into their "I"'s.
Ask them if snowflakes think they're falling or flying? The same way I've plummeted into you while I somehow imagined I was still the pilot.
Ask if the clouds aim to protect the earth from the light or the sun from the darkness on earth?
Because love isn't blind, love is a blindfold.
It's a blanket when you weren't cold, recognizing his tire in the road.
And I've never been good at lingual warfare,
but I have a feeling soon I'll be using my grey hairs
as a form of punctuation
in a fruitless explanation-to myself
that the way you touch me isn't a 'waist' of time.
And as long as you keep calling, I will answer to the ringing in my ears.

wake up from your adventures, and take a dab.
don't take it far, thats not your job
the dab will take you as far as needed
and you're blankets will resurface.

put on your garments, and take a dab.
the day is new, and its age unknown
its crispy mood has woken your hairs.
You'll need to wear those socks.

Have a potato, and take a dab.
theres plenty more, so don't rush
the savory maple cloud, of pancake.
the coffee is void of the cow milk.

greet your neighbor, and take a dab.
His dog will have a bath, the cat
the rabbit, the finch, the turtle, the mouse,
they will all be thinking about oats.

Hop off your bike, and take a dab.
the ocean left you clean, the sun
a blueish green shade of wandering.
you're a person, in their shoes.

put on some tunes, and take a dab.
the day was tall, hungry and sharp.
the yellow sky fogged with milk
is calling you from your bed.

open the drapes, and take a dab.
the dancing wind will have its supper
and your nose will get to drink.
the green air finds your shirt.

Its been a long life of living
so take a dab
and wake up in a new one
to take more dabs.