I have nothing but love for a blue sky
and how its glory opens up my mind.
How it shoos away grey thoughts
of color neutral, sleeping forests.

Oh blue sky.
If I had wings
I'd make you mine.
You'd be my canvas
and my feathers,
your delicate brushes.

Oh bright blue sky
If only I had time
to sit under you
and admire your clouds.
You wear them so well.

Instead in a monotone,
desaturated schedule
I march onward.  
Only able to admire
for passing moments
inbetween places and times.
Blanketed by your sunlight.

I feel like
I should be writing.
Like it's something I
need to do.
But at the same time
I have nothing to
write about.
At least that's how
it feels.
I've spent the day
getting high,
listening to music.
Chain smoking.
Not much you can say
about that.
I am tired because
I stayed up late
texting Iowa.
I don't remember
what I dreamed about.

Don't worry darling,
When I push you away,
I promise,
You won't feel a thing.

I'll be the one,
To burn in the fire,
The smoke,
Causing my eyes to sting.

I know it's for the better,
I'm a burden,
Don't you see?

I promise I won't blame you,

Who would want to be around me?

I fell
into an ocean
of bed sheets
desperately trying
to drown myself.

But instead
I met with
your overpowering
smell.

So I held
my breath
and suffocated
instead.

I just want to breathe In a wiff, 

of that crisp morning mountain air. 

Sink my teeth into the taste of life, 

and filter the smoke out of my lung.
I have felt my foundation shift,
but I guess I’ve never really cared... 

So lets hit this road tonight.
Taking another step into the horizon.


The funny thing about asking questions 

is that you never know the answer. 

Like why the hell are we floating?

Yet bound to this earthly ground? 

Well I guess I’ve learned my lesson:
gravity is just a cancer. 

I want to fly into the horizon, 

and not be stuck six feet underground.



My world is spinning.
But I don’t feel it move. 

you might think that I’m crazy, 

but yours is spinning too...
and death is only a beginning. 

a pathway to some other life. 

and freedom comes when were living,
as if we’re wanting to die.

Have you ever felt like you living? 

But we’re really just in a dream?

Have you ever felt like you were moving?
But really stuck swimming upstream?

Life is a mess at best. 

Perfection’s just a mythic story told aloud.

Yet it’s an honorable quest I guess,
But I need some wings to lift me off this ground.