home is where the heart is
but what if you don't have a home?
what if circumstances out of your control
have forced you to pack up
your belongings in knapsacks
book-bags
and suitcases
where could you kept your heart?
would you nestle it in-between socks that double
as bubble wrap
or in an old mason jar
cleaned of its old bacon grease and
sealed shut from air
i knew a girl once
who was without a home and instead of packing it away
she carried it on her sleeve
and under bridges and squeezed between cloth and a park benches
it got too ***** for her to recognize
and people would nudge up against it in soup lines
and in the winter time it would smell like outdoors and  freezing pines
i would ask her
why not keep in in your backpack
surely it would be much safer there
and she told me
she would never
separate her heart from her body like that
and if she did find a home
she wouldn't keep her heart there either
because houses are temporary and her body would be as permanent
as God would allow it to be

"Stop thief" I yelled out chasing her,
            she stopped, hugged and kissed me deep-
                                                   consummating her theft.

Lately everything has been speaking to me
it started with the vines along my fence intertwining
I thought of all the paths it took to grow
up to the power line
and all the pieces reaching nothing
and left hanging
dieing
a reflection of the decisions and paths we take
some sending us higher
some leading us astray
never finding our way

The ocean spoke to me next
waving at me so inviting
telling me theres so much more to a surface
another world unexplored worth trying
dangerous and enticing
yet gentle and leaving me weightless
like a new infatuation or the love I'm currently riding

Then I saw the bee
working constantly
carrying the flowers seed
designed to fufill the flowers need
and make sweet honey
perfect for my tea
I realized everything has a purpose
including you and me

Then I saw an old man
at the end of his days
He was a brilliant writer
and would be remembered beyond
his grave
I realized that we are never finished
legends live on and never diminish

Finally I saw the stars
burning bright
millions of them held in the sky
and past them is an infinite space
and I am part of such a small
miraculous place and the world
is my oyster and I am one
of many pearls from the many walks of life
of all these beautiful boys and girls
and the feeling that engulfed me was eternity

I wonder if you want me to hate you.
If that was your plan all along.
If you made me feel close to you,
Only to pull the rug out from beneath my feet.

If you told me secrets, you said you’ve never told anyone
So that I would feel special.
If you laughed, when you saw the butterflies explode from my stomach,
Every time you smiled at me or held my hand.

Did you mean it when you called me beautiful?
Or was the blush on my face just another ego booster for you?
When you ran your finger down my cheek
Were you trying to make me weak in the knees?

Was that your plan all along?
To make me weak,
To make me feel like I needed you.
Make me think you needed me too.

Do you look back now and laugh at my foolishness?
My naivety?
At the possible thought that we would ever last
That one day you would love me.

You say you’ve felt pain.
You know I have too.
You said you can’t compare our pains,
But I know you do.

I know you think your pain is worse than mine.
That I will never understand.
But when I tried to help you,
You shut me out.

I think you understand pain,
But you don’t seem to understand compassion.
To you, needing help means you’re weak.
To me, it means you’re strong enough to realize you can’t go through life alone.

That seems to be your problem though.
You can never be alone, be single.
No one remembers a time where you didn’t have a girlfriend.
Inside you believe only a girl can make you happy.

I tried to make you happy.
Not merely as your girlfriend but as your friend.
I still want to be your friend,
But only if you allow me to be.

You can confide in me like you did in the past.
I may not be the person you are in love with,
Who you can trust your heart with.
But I can be the person you can trust with your soul.

Poetry is dumb, like my thumb in your

Ear — I could have said ‘rear.’

Or my tongue

In your eye,

See, signifying

Blindness. I’m waxing poetic here.

Ink impressions

On paper,

That can’t be touched,

Or felt. Or smelt. And don’t get me started about the taste,

And how long it takes to eat a poem.

So, conclusion, thumb, ear, tongue, eye, eat a poem,

It’s ineffable.

Ive 'nunquam magis sentiuntur solus* is Latin for
                                 I've never felt more alone.

I only learned Latin because
For some reason, I think that if I say things in the root of most languages,
I'll find most of the roots to these feelings.
But... Cogitationes strangulatus.
It's funny. Saying "thoughts stifle" in latin, merely sounds like cognitive strangles.
                                Not that it's any different, really.
It just sounds so much more like what I want it to be.
The English language has a hard time
Catching the depth of things
without sounding like it's trying too hard.
I want to be able to say something once, just once,
and be done with it.
To stop ruminating on you and find peace knowing that when I say
Reliquum aliud nihil est dicere
I don't just mean "there's nothing left to say."
I mean that *I've said everything I needed to say.