One touch;
           a graze alone her cheek.
                   That too familiar lingering heartache
              intertwined with something agonizing.
                
                  One look;
                            a gaze into forever,
                                and into never.
      One tear;
              not hers,
                 not mine.
                    No one's, but everyone's.
                                
               A tear of wordless pain.

One heart;
      One pumping vessel,
          Stealing me.

One her.

           One.

The passionate plea of harmony
sobs at war's door.
Collapsed and broken down,
bruised knees
and ****** tears.
All the salt has been washed away
with the desperate sorrow
of begging for mercy.
There hasn't been a day yet
where war has turned the ****
and greeted harmony.
In fact, he hasn't even noticed
the frantic knocking.
Harmony's knuckles have been
ripped and torn,
bones exposed
as he slams his soul
over and over
onto the steel door.
Please, just let me in.
Just listen to me.
Just for one moment.
It would only take one moment
to show you all the logic.

But that doesn't matter.
War, hatred, violence and carelessness
all sit together
behind the door
are at the other side of the house.

Harmony imagines them
drinking whiskey and laughing
at his far away pleas.
The last standing man
who won't give up.
Respect had been there.
Compassion had been there.
Love had even been there.
But they all gave up.
They walked away to be
together elsewhere.
Where they would be listened to.

But did you know?
Violence, war, hatred and carelessness
are drinking no whiskey.
They are hiding in the farthest room,
huddling.
They are afraid.
They have been fear all alone.

Transition into change.
Frightening.
You're alone.
You can move with the world
as it sways along your trails
and its own.
But you will always be alone.
Essentially, in the end.
The loneliness of movement
Of the breath of the grass
in a field of nothingness.
Forget, never.
Live, always.
Exist, now.
Find a way
through each moment.
It's easy.
Just inhale.
Feel.
Let your hair
blow from your face,
your eyes.
Be blind, never.
Exist.
Always.
Live.
Now.
You are alone.
But you are with the universe.
You're alone.
But you aren't.
One.
You are all.
All is you.
E x i s t .
N o w .
D a n c e .
B r e a t h e .
I n h a l e .
E x h a l e .
L i v e .
N o w .
L i v e .
N o w .
B r e a t h e .
N o w .
I    n    h    a    l    e    .
E        x        h        a        l        e        .
E                x                i                s                t                .

The numbers make a ping noise
silently
as I sink.
Level after level.
After level.
After level.
It continues past the floor that owns the button
I had pushed.
I wonder if there's a basement
or if I'll sink to the top floor.

I'm lonely.
The sort of lonely that you feel
after you have been crying.
Have I been crying?
Maybe somewhere.
I'd like to meet this place,
I think.
I think that's what I've been telling myself.

"Go visit your tearful home,
the one kept in the dark."

"I would.
I would
if I knew
where to go to find it."

Where is this secret place
Where I continually weep?
The place I have never been?
The place I always linger?
The place that drowns
in the knowledge
that I don't possess?

Everything's on an old rickety scale.
The type that you have to maneuver
with your own fingers.
No digital lights.
Just that balance bar.
The one that you know is accurate,
but can be so ******* daunting.
So daunting
that you don't even bother
to measure.

My types and kinds
are spilling out
of the crevices of the engraved numbers
and the platform
of judgments.

Go stand on its silver sheen.
And tell me what you
see.

Do you see stars?
Do you see suns?
Do you see grass?
Do you see thunder?

Do you see what you want to see?

Do we always see
only
what we want to see?

I think it's time to gouge out my eyes.
Or perhaps my perception
of what I want.

There is a place within a house,
which dwells within my soul somewhere.
Within this place is emptiness.
Pure, vivid, emptiness.
Yes, as depressing as it sounds.
There are no inhabitants.
Not in this place.

Within the house live few,
but creatures nonetheless.
They breathe, they drink,
they celebrate.
They are alive.

But this place, this empty place,
that rests within the house:
there is silence,
so much more overwhelming
than the loudest dancing creature
which laughs within the house.

The silence calls for Hope,
but Hope dare not travel far inside.
It will peek in periodically,
then leave it all behind.

I get so sad,
as sad as i can be
i get so sad that all my feelings
get up and leave me.
and i get so numb
i don't know how to be.
and it makes me mad.
it makes me mad 
and i don't know how to fix me
i don't know how to fix me.
and it makes me mad,
it makes me mad. 
i get so mad 
and i yell at you
i yell at you so much
i forget how to stop.
and i know i shouldn't.
i know i shouldn't 
but i do and i do and i do again
and i don't know how to fix me.
i don't know how to fix me.
i get so numb 
i don't know how to be.
and it makes me mad.
i get so picky
i get so picky 
and i pick at you
and i know i shouldn't.
i know i shouldn't
but i do and i do and i do again.
so i start to thinking maybe
if i can't stop it
i'll let it happen
so you'll pack your bags and tell me
you love me
but you can't stay.
so you'll leave me alone
and i can be alone
and i don't have to be good
for anyone.
and you can be happy
i know you could be happy
with someone more happy.
i get so sad
as sad as i can be.
i get so sad that all my feelings
get up and leave me.
and it makes me mad.
it makes me mad 
and i don't know how to fix me.
i won't be loved if i can be fixed.
i can't be fixed 
so i can't be loved.
and i don't know how.
i don't know how to 
love you
when i don't know how
to fix me.

I have loved the world countless times
I've fallen for the same sun
Each day that it rises again.
I can't help but see the potential
In anything that could posses it.
And I love the feeling of loving.
Of holding the warmth of someone else
inside your soul.
Like a cozy blanket
And a warm mug of comfort

I've taken a lot of happiness
And broken it into a struggle
only because I refused to believe
that happiness wasn't there.
Or, at least not for me.

So now I've lost the ability
To trust myself
I can't trust myself to feel genuinely
When I have spent my life convincing myself to feel
Potentially genuine feelings.

I'm hoping this time it's different
Than all of the times before
When it was different.
I'll finally use that memory of mine
To tell me what my future holds
So that I can avoid it at all costs.
But I won't avoid you.
I trust you to force me
Into a genuine happiness

I know the difference between need and want
And you're the strangest mixture.

I don't know anymore if I'm real
If this is real
I don't know if my memories are real
either, really.

So let's hope.
Let's hope I'm really me
and you're really you
and we really do mingle
like the gold and pink
of the setting sun
So beautifully
Because you really are
a wonder.
And I really am hoping.

You say the sun shines just for me
But the moon with its majestic glow—  
It lingers through the starless nights
and patiently awaits the morning,
bringing peace among all who meets it,
Just for you.

You aren't another mug of comfort
and a cozy blanket—
You're a home.
You're a fitting piece to massive complication
You are the sigh of contentment.

And this time,
This time,
I've been falling for the moon
each night it rises again.