There are those days
Where I would rather be
             Anywhere else, or
                      Doing anything else, or
                                  Talking to anyone else.
I'd rather ride the
                    ancient            yellow          Schwinn  ­       in the shed
To the cemetery
Pay my respects       to Baby Lanny
And
               think.

I'd rather drive to            Chicago
Stay by the Pier for a while,
Drinking warm cocoa                 eating a hot dog.

I'd rather stay in my room,
                                     curled up under a blanket
Reading and staring out the window.

That's not how life works, unfortunately.
So I have to take my                        responsibilities
And wield them     with a
                                      heavy
                                            heart
Waiting until a time
Where I can        drive          to Chicago.

Looks like a storm tonight
and i'm glad
because an integral part of my existence
thrives on knowing that
there is power beyond our control.

My mother's second wedding took place in a butterfly house.
Her gown was lavender
My sister and I walked her down the aisle.
I wonder
If my grandfather
Would have done it.

It takes a shower of rain
Just on the warm side of frigid
Coming straight down on a cloudy day
To wake me up from the delirious dreams that
I often find lurking in the indulgent part of my mind.

I can tell when someone needs a hug
When the pain is too much
And the mask is gone
When the world's on your shoulders
Instead of in your hands
I won't ask you what's wrong
Or what I can do
I'll just hug you.
I won't complain when your long hair gets in my eyes
Or when your briny tears stain my shirt
Or when you squeeze until I can no longer breathe
And when your voice
spurts,
splutters,
then pours out
Into haphazard words translated from your heart
I will stay there
And
just
hug you.
When your story wrenches my heart
Fills my own eyes with tears
I will not let them spill.
Whether we stay there until late at night
When all is silent and smooth
And I see you finally withdraw
Your eyes still pinkish red
I'll still get you a glass of water-
My duty as your best friend.
Then if there's time before I need to leave
I'll give you a small smile and one last hug
But.
When I'm back home
Far away in physicality
I will still be hugging you.

Stare into the eyes of the wolf.
Which do you see,
The predator or the lamb?
Which do you love?
Which do you fear?
They are the same, but they fight for space in the flicker of the iris,
the flash of the teeth,
the curve of the brow.
Which will win out? Neither. Both.
Is it a fight if you can't win or lose?
If twin souls, displayed against an infinite canvas,
never run out of room
but never quite fill up as much as the other?
Which do you hate?
Which do you ignore?
I dare you to stare and not be intrigued.
It may be possible to look and not see,
But we are drawn to wars and dances alike.
You know, you
can tell which is which
When you squint
Clench your jaw
There's a difference
A purpose behind each half.
The wolf you can find
Out of the goodness of the lamb
The lamb you can find
From the hatred of the wolf
Or is it switched?
When one soul is tied to another
The colors start to blend
And the mix is not reversible
So I ask again,
Which do you love?
Which do you fear?
Love the lamb. Fear the wolf.
Fear the lamb. Love the wolf.

Make your choice.

Would you rather
Eat an apple
Or starfuit?

Would you rather
Play a game
Or read a book?

Would you rather
Sleep all day
Or work all night?

Would you rather
Take it as it comes
Or take it whether it comes or not?

Would you rather
Never be happy
Or be sad all the time?

Would you rather
Leave the past behind
Or bring it back?

Would you rather
Re-write your bad choices
Or run away from them?

Would you rather
Mark your own path
Or be led down the right one?

Would you rather
Love, and lose
Or never love at all?

Would you rather
Hold hands with me
Or someone else?

Your choice.

I'm sorry, everyone.
I hopped on the Internet
Hoping that I could produce
Something beautiful, deep,
And heartbreaking for all of you to read
And enjoy.
Unfortunately,
In the words of fangirls,
I can't even.
I have nothing. NOTHING.
Nothing for my poetry,
Nothing for my prose,
Nothing
At
All.
If you people I don't and do know
Realize this feeling of
Suddenly coming to the edge of the world of writing
(Which I didn't even know was flat)
And just STANDING there
Staring into the black empty
That is absolute nothingness...
Well, make me a sympathy card, okay?
Because I can't write today.
I've got nothing.
So, if you're looking for something
That is not a piece of crap
Coming from the brilliant mind of this author?
Feel disappointment.

It's unsafe for pedestrians
The need for speed is eminent
But I'm the only one who disagrees

We turn our backs to everyday
Adventure seems too far away
No gas money to spend among the trees

But oh, my dear,
Home is right here
In the sun, the sky
The fairyland of your childhood

The love remains
And when you come back it's not the same
As when you left
Give it a rest.

The garden is too bare today
All the seeds have blown away
But the bench you used to read in's standing here

You want to go to Paris, France
You'd fly away if you had the chance
Sorry benches in bare gardens don't compare

But oh, my sweet,
The barista still knows your order
And your books still wait
Collecting gray dust on the shelves

Your dreams of light
Aren't always as bright as you've known
Don't forget your home.