my hungry heart came looking
but my foolish head had me thinkin'
so round and round i did flow
trying to hide my heart from my head
playin hide and seek with my soul
trying to find a way to have both these loves
trying to give all the love my heart dreams
trying to be the best man i can be cause you deserve nothing less
round and round shadows play
light is a grace that she would grant me
forgiving my hearts infidelity
because i did not cheat...did not stray
so i stand here with tears a-flowin
trying to let go of such a lovely
trying to make my heart unfeel true beauty's smile
never wanted to give anything so beautiful away
my heart wants to be greedy
my heart hungers
but my heads thinkin'

How can I unlove you?
Shall I unsee the luminescent smile you make?
Shall I unfeel the heavy breaths I take?
Shall I undraw your image inside my head?
Shall I unhold our memories instead?
Shall I unwrite the song I made for you?
Shall I untell my heart to stop beating too?
Shall I uncling to my tiny sliver of forever?
Shall I undream of what we can become together?
Shall I unremember the light on your face?
Shall I unrecall my saving grace?
Shall I ungrasp this love I know true,
But the question is...

Is it possible to unlove you?

Unnecessary feelings amass
Forgetting becomes quite a task
Emotions volatile in a cask
You empty your flask

Savor the temporary bliss
Such heartfelt happiness
Time passes

Why do we feel the way we do?
We soul search for a clue
We often ask if we can undo
All the mistakes we've been through
We cannot help but dwell deeper in the past
Hoping to find an answer at last

I told them,  “I don’t feel sorry for Robin Williams.
He lived it. Coke-fueled, bearded trickster of ******.
Well traveled and well versed, raging into worlds
Physical and ephemeral, like a ghostly bull
Goring mortals to unfeel the estoques
Sunk deep into his vital corpse.”

I had a friend who blew his brains out
While his parents were watching tv in the living room
And another who rented a room at the Marriott
Then hung himself off the shower-rod

Both early 20s
You won’t see them on the big screen
Or hear their witty banter on interviews
Chic celebs won’t eulogize them
On “Extra”, “TMZ”,  or “Access Hollywood”
No 2 minute montages
At award shows, while tuxes and gowns float
Clapping in ovation behind the shimmering façade
Of golden statues

They got a few lines in an obituary, in A7
Those who knew them will speak in hushed euphemisms
No one daring to whisper “suicide”
As if it’s the ****** Mary of deaths
Like walking under a ladder, or breaking a mirror
The mirror containing, like smoke, the future
The jagged shards reflecting moonlight faintly

I love them all the same

I feel my heart breaking over and over again
The emotions coming through like a tsunami
The tears wanting to be free

It hurts
It aches
It burns

I can’t stand it

I just want to unfeel
Unsee
Undo

I just want to leave

Apples can come in all shapes and sizes,
Two apples they are not the same,
See one and it's in your hand before it realizes,
Choosing the right one is part of the game,

They can look so sweet from where you sit,
But once you bite into that rotten part,
It changes your whole perception of it,
And can send and arrow through your heart,

To me I'm an apple not wholly bad,
To you the shiniest and most delectable you'd seen,
Sadly more bitter than you what thought you had,
But with time to ripen fit for my queen.

For apples to be we are both bruised,
We have been hurt and reduced,
Some visible, and some I denied the clues,
Yet together us perfectly flawed apples have fused,

Like a pair that only comes in a dual pack,
Still we cannot unfeel what we have felt,
Nor take back the damage i have dealt.
I vow to bring us back on track.

Let me be your sun,
Your source of growth,
Your only one,
So hear my oath.

I will be your love, your inspiration,
Like the apple of your first impression,
We will roll down hills and across nations,
For this is the long run and not a single session.

I see now that we could endure any weather
From stormy oceans to scorching heat
And one day i hope our seeds grow a tree together
That no other apple could possibly beat.

I lap a bit of the water out of my cupped hands,
then splash the rest on my battered face.
Evan looked at me like I was obscene,
left the room, slammed the door, burning,
Tyler was still nauseous, buried in the couch,
talked light about being surprised at his survival.
I made him some toast,
we tried to piece together the night,
but we only remembered that
he concocted some White Russian rip-off and called
it a Grey Romanian,
I talked to Rachel about *** and respect,
Evan wasn't very appreciative of the cake I baked,
nor was he kind to Shawna or Kara when
they gave him kickass gifts,
Bobby kept Tyler from drowning in his *****,
Lauren brought me a blanket when I was freezing,
I passed out in the bathroom,
and the general consensus was we need to slow down.

Tyler told me he felt like he needed to go to church.

I felt ***** too,
but it was more from the things I have seen,
I have touched, and God never could make me unsee, unfeel.

Tyler and I sat and talked like ancient men,
men who had far outlived their time,
and were just waiting for death's hour
to claim its ****.

Pure things come and find us,
we won't find you,
not down the road we've been taking.
Pure things,
the world should hang its head in shame
at all its ***** things.
Give us a revival.

The Grey Romanians, the depths,
and the *** aren't giving the answers
we expect.

I told Tyler I loved him,
walked out the door,
the sun was too bright,
I walked past an Asian lady,
her smile was insane,
I climbed in my car,
put on some Thelonious
and mended myself with each erased mile.

Tethered and bound by maraging steel-
feel nothing- bar a need to unfeel.
Few words- gagged. Rubber'd tastes,
sound the same. Chewy, jaw-achingly safe.

The carnival is loud.
The voices rise in competition,
each one pulling for the crowd’s attention,
each one demanding to be seen,
to be known,
to be applauded.

But none of it lasts.

The bright lights will flicker,
the tents will come down,
the applause will fade.
And the ones who built their names
on the roar of the crowd
will be left alone with their silence.

You feel this, don’t you?

The moment after the rush,
when the thrill of being seen
is not enough to keep you full.
The moments between performances,
when you are left with yourself.
You have felt it.
And because you have felt it,
you cannot unfeel it.

That is the nature of truth.

It does not beg.
It does not force.
It simply remains,
waiting for you to turn toward it.

But not all will turn.

Some will sell the last of themselves
to the carnival,
to the barker’s voice,
to the fleeting thrill of attention.
Some will press their hands over their ears
until they no longer hear the call at all.
Some will attempt to crucify what unsettles them,
to keep the show running.

And yet, truth stands.

It does not chase.
It does not barter.
It does not make itself smaller
to be more easily held.

It remains,
whether you turn today,
or tomorrow,
or never at all.

For life does not demand.
It does not entertain.
It does not offer a show.

It simply waits.

And in time,
the waiting will be yours
to bear

she boiled my blood inside a *** of steel,
with bread she cooked it thoroughly till foam,
had covered all, unseeable, unfeel-
-ing, vengeance wrathful, hardened to a loam,
          where blood is life, she caused the life to be,
          unlivable, no more a life to me

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos