i fell in love with you
once
long ago
with my eyes closed
and the dream-screen drawn

we danced
like music notes across their barred landscape
we danced
the loveliest late-night lullaby

you became my hiding place
lilac and lace linens
stretched over a lumpy matress

my indiana jones
waiting patently and poetically
in a long-lost temple of slumber

you come back to me in waves
softly and subtly
while i'm half awake
you're kissing the broken down shorelines of an insomniacs holiday

i wish i could keep you
like an empty bottle in the window-sill
or a heart arrhythmia
this lonely romantics cardiovascular waltz

let me snag you up from my dream-dust
and stitch you to my sole like a lost boys shadow

let me find you in my reality
tip-toeing over an underlined paragraph
of a beer stained paper-back

i'll find you
someday
after a long-over-due nights sleep

perhaps in the guitar strings
or type-writer keys
or at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey in the ever-humming freezer

be mine
evasive valentine
i'll even let you hide in the curls of my hair
or under my fingernails
i'll keep you
if you'll let me

just don't forget me
come sun-up
when you gallup away
from my sub-conscious escape

take my heart-rate with you
tucked into your breast-pocket
like a floral handkercheif
or a photogaraph taped to the dash

come back
to the grey matter kingdom
tucked behind my eyelashes
i'll meet you in the idiosyncrasies of my synapses
writing love stories that never once happened

Tender lips grace mine and I can't find the word
For no sparks fly and not an utterance can be heard
And I dice in once more to find what it is I so desperately want
Only to come up empty-handed

Branded is my heart with the sign "Do Not Enter"
A lock unflinching hidden within it's epicenter
With tears in my eyes, my pursuit of you ends in turmoil
In the blink of an eye, I find I am lost once again

Easier would be to grow in love, to learn
But nothing kindles passion to want to make this love burn
And so I earn the title of heartbreaker, of yours and of mine
For as much as I want to, I'll never truly be yours....

I have heavy boots
My boots are filled with all of the things I never say
They are getting heavier with all the things I never do
Sometimes it’s just easier to wear heavy boots
At least your legs get strong

I find myself in the crowds of Central Park
The trees look taller than last time I was here
I’ve never been to New York

I’ve shed at least 54 tears in the last 12 minutes
I count them as they drop
Like seconds ticking off my clock
I can’t wait for tomorrow because
Maybe then I’ll feel better

The grass is green under the snow
I dug down to make sure
It took me 33 minutes to touch bottom
The grass was dead
It hasn’t seen the sun in at least 3 weeks

Maybe it is safer to be alone
I know for sure it’s easier to be alone
At least it was when I didn’t know what good company felt like
Now I can’t even read without feeling eyes over my shoulder

I don’t fit in here or there because of my odd mentality
I’m not mental, but my thoughts will soon be detrimental
I take a shower to feel better – it didn’t work
I go on a run - I didn’t make it back

I finally wake up; still crying
6 feet under and my heart finally calms
The dirt is fresh on my palms
I dig my own grave over and over

I may be clueless at times and difficult in some moments but let me tell you something I'm not, yours. I'm not yours, that's my worst flaw.

Yesterday, I printed some of my poems.
Black letters on ivory, one hundred percent cotton, twenty-four pounds.
It felt strange to hold my words in my hands,
making concrete, that abstract part of myself.

Here is the proof, there is more to me.
There is more.

Is it really possible to uncover these secret,
hidden places within myself?

Are a rose, and the scent of a rose, one and the same?

As I watch the people scurry around me
Like ants in a maze
Living the lives they believe are their own,
I wonder if they can even fathom
All the lies and secrets that surround them?

Our world has turned into a place
That feeds on lies
And treats honesty like a crime,
A crime deserving of immense punishment.

Lies end in reward.
Honesty in scorn.
I loathe the liars,
For they are cowards.

While honesty may hurt now,
A lie will grow and spread like a wildfire,
Like a disease,
Lethal to all those who come in contact with it.

I am not immune to this disease.
On the contrary,
I am a carrier of it.

I’ve always been told
My honesty and abruptness get me into trouble,
But I would rather be openly criticized
To my face for my honesty
Then have people feed and thrive on my lies.

They say “revenge is a dish best served cold.”
Lucky for me, my emotions can never just go into hiding.
They are always front and center
Just waiting to be poked and prodded,
A fire ready to ignite and consume.