Honest John waits In his car.
peaks through his rear view mirror at the glass door. watching.
The engine is off.
cold air nips at his nose and ears.
ice caps cover grass.
the night pitch black
No moon in the sky.
few stars due to the city smog.

A Dim glow from inside the restaurant
Casts shadows in the parking lot.
She hides in them.

Rolling carts march uniform right on schedule
hauling trash to dumpsters just outside.
Honest john watches her slip on a Latex Glove.
*** a cigarette.
She doesn't want honest john to smell the cigarette on her hands.
He doesn't know.

Honest John's Phone buzzes.
He answers.
Told that "work is going late."
She "won't need a ride tonight."
"Won't be home tonight."
Honest John asks where she's going.

"oh, out with my lady friend.
Sarah, haven't seen her since high-school"

"Alright." Says Honest John.
"Have fun." He bit his tongue for the sake of not seeming Crazy again.
It wasn't very honest of him.

She climbs up into red Truck with
The man.
smoke billows out the windows as they screach off howling in the rearview mirror.

Honest John has always hated her lying.

John Loves Crying.
It's honest.
Not just his own tears.
Being the shoulder to cry on is johns momment of ecstasy.
Tears are Beautiful on everybody.
Nobody cries without a reason.

Alone John Smokes Djarum Blacks.

They're the most honest of cigarettes.
Don't paint themselves White
Try passing as innocent or pure.
Just Blatantly say
"Hey, we're way worse for you then a normal cigarette.
"This is slowly killing you"
John appreciates that
even though they're slowly killing him,
At least they are honest about it.

John speaks his mind.
Just as he beleives it.
won't risk leaving words
unsaid again.
but there is one word
he's troubled being Honest about.

Love.

Everytime he doesn't say it.
It kills him slowly.
which would be fine,
if love didn't lie.

Upon an honest mans grave they danced and joked

Upon an honest mans grave they sighed and smoked

Upon an honest mans grave they drank their wine

Upon an honest mans grave they did their line

Upon an honest mans grave they told some lies

Upon an honest mans grave they howled and cried

Upon an honest mans grave their life became so bleak

Upon an honest mans grace they were too dead to speak

Upon an honest mans grave they danced and joked

Upon an honest mans grave they sighed and smoked

Upon an honest mans grave they drank their wine

Upon an honest mans grave they did their line

Upon an honest mans grave they told some lies

Upon an honest mans grave they howled and cried

Upon an honest mans grave their life became so bleak

Upon an honest mans grace they were too dead to speak

If I'm being honest with myself,
I'd first have to admit that I'm not as brave as I put out to be
I pretend that I hate hugs when in reality,
It isn't the hug I hate but being so close that people could read the language of my insecurities

If I'm being completely honest with myself,
I'd have to admit that I crave intimacy with another soul but fear vulnerability
So with my lips I say "I'm chilling" while my heart is asking "where is he?"

If I'm being completely honest with myself,
I'd have to admit that I don't just fall in love with looks but I fall in love with souls full of flaws and I fall harder for eyes, a smile and a brain that'll put the sun and stars to shame

If I'm being completely honest with myself,
I'd have to admit that I'm pulled by people I can't have so I settle for being a friend who really is a stranger because if I were to really be honest with myself, I'd admit that my friends don't know me because I hide behind the jokes and advice I give

If I was being honest with myself,
I'd have to admit that I want to have a conversation with someone who understands and loves me for my mind and old soul.
If they loved my body that would be a plus too.

Finally, if I were to be honest with myself,
I crave a friendship so deep I could pray with a sister after she done put me in check.
Someone who understands that we don't always have to dress up with makeup and can just hang.
Not a superficial friendship.

A look at life through a child's eyes
Is pure and honest; without disguise
A life of joy and wonder and grace
And here we are: running in place

The miracle of a rainbow, the beauty of a blade of grass
Finding untold treasure where others see only trash
Listen. Here the thrum of wind on golden strings
The bells sounding clear and pure in the trees they sing

A look at life through a child's eyes
Is pure and honest; without disguise
A life of joy and wonder and grace
And here we are: running in place

Feel the complex dance around you come alive as you are filled
With a racing spirit and feet that won't be stilled
A song bursts forth just like the morning sun
And overflows and covers you until you and it are one

A look at life through a child's eyes
Is pure and honest; without disguise
A life of joy and wonder and grace
And here we are: running in place

We lose sight of what's important as we fight to survive
But if we stop to look through a child's eyes we learn to truly thrive

A look at life through a child's eyes
Is pure and honest; without disguise
A life of joy and wonder and grace
But here we are: running in place

A life of joy and wonder greets the sun in morning sky
A life of joy and wonder will run free and learn to fly
A life of joy and wonder finds gladness in the rain
A life of joy and wonder finds healing amidst the pain

A look at life through a child's eyes
Is pure and honest; without disguise
A life of joy and wonder and grace
But here we are running in place

A look at life through a child's eyes
Is pure and honest; without disguise
A child's eyes are bright and strong; they don't dull or dim
You might hear their quiet song if you stop and listen

There is a life of joy and wonder and grace
But here we are running in place
A life of joy and wonder takes patience, love, and care
It takes a long time, many years till we get there

But a life of joy and wonder is a precious thing I'm told...

Because a life of joy and wonder far surpasses the value of gold!

It all started when I was four
and it came with boys holding buttercups beneath girl's chins
and chasing in endless circles
and my skirt was a little too long
and my face was a little too round
to chase them too

I started sitting indoors and painting scenes
'cause I couldn't run like the other girls could
but four year old boys don't like brushes and  blue skies
they like little girls with flushed rosy cheeks

And when I was six
I couldn't sit inside anymore
it was time to go out and face the boys that called me fat
and try to be a rosy cheeked little girl too
but I just got flustered when I heard the laughter

But at least kids are honest
and I knew I was not wanted

By the time I reached nine
I kept my eyes glued to the ground
when I stood with my mother and listened
to my grandfather drop poison into her ears
and told her that her daughter was a monster
and that's why I didn't cry at his funeral

But at least he was honest
and I knew I was not wanted

Things changed when I turned eleven
self-loathing stayed the same
but the new boys were all skinny compared to me
and they did not hesitate to point it out
although quietly
and subtly
more awash with gasps from choking back revolting laughter
that got caught in the back of my throat and turned to tears
I never did cry in public

And the way I walked through the halls was a carefully crafted way
to make myself smaller
but they still plucked me out and told me
'You're so pretty'
(laced with sarcasm)
'Be my girlfriend'
(prolonged by a smirk)
I always kept my mouth shut

And at least kids are honest
at least I always knew I was not wanted

By age fifteen I was so obsessed with mirrors
that I carried one in my hand at all times
I'd tried every makeup technique I could find
and my mother was sad that my blonde curls were gone
now straight and brown to fade into the background
I never knew why this attracted boys
but for once I was glad I looked like everybody else

I was hearing 'you're so pretty' with a genuine tone
from boys who flirted for fun
but I didn't understand
and I thought I was special
and I thought I would marry every one who called me pretty
and we'd have three children and a dog

What I didn't understand was why every night ended with tears
because I was finally feeling the way all the rosy-cheeked girls did
but maybe it was because kids are honest
I preferred to know when I wasn't really wanted

When I was 16 I felt like a woman
because I'd had a history with boys who were *******
and this is how I thought womanhood should be
every night I rubbed three years of makeup from my face
and removed my push-up bra
and said goodnight to the boy that made my heart skip
and woke up the next morning knowing I would be ignored

I wished people would just be honest

At seventeen, I fell in love with a man
who called me his little girl
and made me feel like the rosy cheeked child
I always watched and envied
I fell in love with the way he threatened to leave me when I forgot something
and the way he slapped me
and I fell in love with how he taught me that it was okay for me to be *****
in every sense of the word
because I was the tiny little girl
with the skirt just short enough
and the cheeks just red enough
to be wanted