Bring me the moonlight in a glass
Soft and sturdy liquid
Deep flowing magnetized
Colour
Creeping broth
In hazy pattern
Churning in the cauldron
Let me gulp the heavens
And sip away at it's farewells
Silken threads of water
And hot headed fluff
Gathering bits of holes
In endless vast
Moving with my eyes
And with my hands
Reach up and scratch the sky
Reach down and swim

Wind.
Ache -
        Prolonged wrenching ache
               Pulling organs into new
                                                       surroundings.
People
So many of them -
                            murmur, murmur, murmur...

Laughter.
Belly laughter of recognition -

Tears of lost souls
Sobbing of a wanderer -
                                     with frozen eyes

Breath -
        breath of clouds
        of the lakes
                         of the strings as they slide across
                                                                            hearts.

Moved and disconnected -
                               involved and inseparable.
                                                           Unbearably together.

Moving through the motions -
                                             with nothing.

Nothing
but everything to lose.
                              And everything lost.

It is really complicated being inside my own head.

There are numbers in there that have
nothing
to do with logic.

There are fragments of memories that
may
or may not
be real.

There are completely intact dreams that
I'm pretty sure
really happened.
Or, at least,
they happened on a
more real level
than what's really
happened.

And then there's this bitter old man
who criticizes my hypocrisy.
And let me tell you -
he is one unforgiving, miserable,
person.

Next to him is this sweet lady
who's always telling him:
"Oh shush, she's doing her best".
But she's often too soft spoken
to really make him listen.

There's this crowd of activists who are
usually
screaming
to be taken seriously.

And a young teenage girl
in the middle of them,
who just wants to be like
everybody else.

Often, she's accompanied by
her older brother who
never
fails to remind her of how
idiotic
her aspirations are.

And all the while that they're
screaming,
and sighing,
and crying,
and keeping quiet,
they are breathing the air of
my mind -

a swirling,
whirlwind of
passion
and fear.

today, i walked outside,
and separated myself from
the hot hot heat
and the second-hand air.

the trees' breath filled me
like a balloon
with a cool feeling
of crisp 
and of fresh.

but the light that came with it,
like a tag on a pair of new shoes,
blinded my brain.
it clamped onto my mind
and my eyes
like a vice. 

i'm still suffering the damage
from the pressure.

it stole my attention away 
from the balloon that i was.
and because of that,
i deflated.

it lifted all the cool, the crisp, and the fresh
out of my chest,
and left it as an empty hallow.

it's still empty--
i thought it might be housing 
a hibernating creature of a sort.
Maybe a bear 
or maybe a mouse.

i couldn't hear the noises,
but i knew it was in there.

i tried to open me up
and find whatever was sleeping in me,
but when i reached inside
and fumbled around,
all i found was my own heart.

i forgot it was in there.

it was like finding an old note you wrote
to santa clause when you were young.
you'd had it all along and it's reassuring to find,
but it's easy to forget about for most of your life.

At first I wondered if maybe my heart ate whatever was sleeping there.
Maybe it got sick of the snoring.
Or maybe it didn't want to share the space.

Maybe they didn't get along.

I've seen things like that happen.
like when my brother's fish ate his other fish.
They didn't trust each other, I guess.
So the bigger, faster fish gobbled the other one up.

That's when I realized that my heart couldn't have done it.
It's never been the bigger faster one.

It's pretty good at being brave for other hearts,
but when it comes down to it,
it would share me with anything that wanted me,
so long as there was no confrontation. 

I looked a second time after this.
I ripped open my chest
and peered in.
I even brought light with me.

That was my first mistake.

The light blinded my heart, 
just like my brain.
it clamped onto my ribs
like a vice
until they snapped.

and now i'm left with no brain, 
no creature, no heart.
no letter for santa clause.

im vanishing 
into the light
and it's not nearly as good
as they said it would be.

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.

You've burnt a hole
burnt a hole in the midst of something
something grandios,
a gargantuan shadow
of frowns and stares
and scolding index fingers.
You have slashed through something
something tired and mean,
mean with a mask of militant
satisfaction.
You have pushed your way through something
something like a chameleon
changing shapes when it sees fit.
How did you not tire?
I grew sick of it long ago
long ago I accepted it,
and grew (almost) fond of
it.
And then it took a break
to sip its coffee and grin
in self satisfaction.
And when it did,
you walked in unannounced.
And when it stood,
alarmed, unready,
its coffee burnt its lap
its grin vanished,
and you fought.
and you won.
You won this empty space,
space where this something used to dwell,
dwell in the alleyway behind my thoughts,
thoughts that now are filled with you,
with you I'm learning to dance,
dance in this empty space,
this empty space where that
something used to live,
live to slowly bring me down,
down below myself.
But here you are and there it's gone
gone from the life
the life I want to have with you
you are where my heart is
my heart is with you.

There are words written in the sky this morning.
I'm not sure who they're from,
but they change the way that
I see
the sky,
and the ground, for that matter.
There are words in the sky
and on the tombstone.
Maybe they're his words,
maybe they're his mothers.
I don't know who they're from,
but they've change the way
that I see him,
and the way that I see
us.
The words aren't devoured
by the tree,
nor do they hide behind it.
They're combining,
harmoniously,
somehow.
The words on his tombstone
and in the sky
and the tree
and the ground
have changed the way
that I see it all.
They've changed the way that
I see.

If you were still breathing in my universe,
I might see you as a
mediocre
being.

But it seems that, as you are;
uninvolved and out of sight,
I see you as I last saw you -
    a large, black, grimace
    on the face of true self.

Oh, I'm not angry or saddened.
In fact, I'm grateful!

But that doesn't keep me
from seeing all of your negative energy
as it swims around,
******* itself
into it's own black hole.

It's interesting how,
when I first loved you,
I was blind to your darkness.
and,
when I first hated you,
I was blind to your light.

Either way,
I was blind
during all of our firsts.

I do not hate you and I haven't
for some time.

But that grimace
is a tainted memory that,
no matter how many times I cross-examine it,
seems to hold as much truth as you do.

Who knows, really,
     who you are?

Who really knows anyone -
    loved, or not?
    hated, or not?

I certainly don't know you,
and I probably never did.

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say,
so I'm just going to talk.

I'll talk about how you remind me of the sun.
And how it's bright;
so bright, that it literally feeds all life on earth
with it's light!

I'll talk about how beautiful teeth are
when they're lined up in a smile.

And how good it feels to be held so tightly
that you're sure it's not just a hug,
but a sharing of everything that you are -
that within that hug is the most accepting love that you've
ever known.

I'll talk about how you make me take apart my life,
piece by piece,
so I can put it back together again,
with more understanding than before.

And I'll talk about how perplexing you are.

About how I've spent far too long trying to shape this
into some sort of comprehensible form.

But then,
I suppose that's you, too.
Always as incomprehensible as you can be.

But, I'll talk about how that's all a part of your charm!
Your adventurous, confusing,
way of living -
wading right through the moulds to find your own shape.

You're all mystery,
but you're all exactly you, too.

I'll talk about how clear it is to me how important you are.

And how I will never share that with you.
Or, perhaps I will.
But you won't know it.

And if you do,
don't think too much about it.

Because, I'm not even sure what I'm trying to say.
That's why I'm talking.

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.

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.

lingering in the unsaid words,
    my soul is heavy.
    i am dragging.

you were diamonds inside your darkness
    and i wish i called.
i wonder, with all of the
           unimportance
      hovering around me,
   as my heart rests low,
              still,
              in the love,
              in you.

did you know?
did you know how much we'd drown?

i'm here for you to haunt.

i'm here,
     always,
         in this heavy air,
             where the birds are so distant
             that they are but a memory,
                                    like those of you.

please,
       please,
              please.

                    oh please,
                            i hope you know.

i'm here.
       so please,
               haunt my lonely soul.

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.

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.

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                .