I stare at you and you stare at me,
That picture of me before,
You looked so young in your pedigree
Before we both went to war,
But life has left its mark on the face
That was captured, back in time,
And now there’s little left of your grace,
There’s nothing that’s left of mine.

For you’re a constant reminder of
The man that I thought was fine,
I look in awe at your forehead where
There isn’t a single line,
Not one of the cracks and crevices
That now will litter my brow,
I wonder how you would feel, if you
Were able to see me now?

If only I had been painted like
The Picture of Dorian Gray,
Then you would possibly look like me
And I’d be like you today,
My faults and pleasures you’d never know
Except on your painted face,
And you would never be put on show,
While I would retain your grace.

But time and life are a cruel pair,
For age to them is a joke,
They both conspire to grey your hair
From the time you enter their yoke,
They run their tractors over your face
Emasculate skin and bone,
And when you look, there isn’t a trace
Whatever you were, has flown.

No sweet young thing will look at you now,
If so, she’s telling you lies,
The only sign of the love you’ve known
Will still reside in your eyes,
And so you look at your lady now
Who stuck by you, thick and thin,
And praise the Lord that she’s aged like you,
As you’re falling in love again.

David Lewis Paget

Maybe we're all just waiting
for the train to come into the station
for the paint to dry
for a rainfall in the desert
for him to make the first move
for tomorrow
but
sometimes the train is late
the paint gets smudged
the heat dries up every drop in the sky
he's too scared
and tomorrow never comes

      In contrary of the distance we take.
          Goodbyes are just as hard to make.
        
          I wish the cold will stay away from our hearts.
          It’s our toughest decision we’ve made - being apart.

          I give to you a piece of my soul for you to hold.
          You give yours, I cherish like gold.
        
          Three years is a short time away from each other,
          Yet as long as our hearts are entwine together
          Our love is as sweet as forever.
*


© 2014

In the law of thermodynamics, there is this thing called entropy.
The Merriam-Webster dictionary summed it up as utter chaos
which is to say not mild nor in the middle but the omega
and you are my beginning.

One thing I hate more than my involuntary capability to breathe
is uncertainty.
See, I get lost in my thoughts so much
that one mistake branches out
until the whole thing explodes into one big misplaced dilemma.

I'd spend nights awake despite my screaming eyes
breaking down everything I've said,
everything you've said.
And by god, am I tired.

You used to lull me to sleep.

my polestar,
you are every disorder these eyes could muster
but I am willing to remove myself from every brink of defeat.
I'll stay in this isolated system if you'll hear the subtle touch of my fingers saying,

I'll wait for you
come back for me.

occasionally, i wander aimlessly
into the forests of your irises,
a cartographer
mapping every detail.
here, time flows differently.
somehow milliseconds stretch
to eternities, but it's still
never enough.

rapt, i dwell beneath the trees
and picnic as the leaves dance
and shift in the breeze.
i read Nietzsche, listening  
to the pleas of mahogany branches
stretching out overhead,
desperate to catch hold
of each other's hands
just a moment longer.
coffee streams sing
next to me. i am lost
in your eyes and don't want
to be found.

then you speak,
"what're you looking at?"
the epiphany springs:
i've known more houses
than i can count, but
you feel like home.

Compose yourself carefully

your reconstruction may replace a proper requiem

A clock reaches ******

notice the tenacity and accommodate its ticking

The reflection renders exhaustion

so much energy for a worlds acceptance

one pliable pause may replace this madness

anticipate something more than just existing

I've seen the faces after free will falters

how the sighs replace the seasons

hollow expression like a dime store display

Inside the minds

A parasite proves rational

This hysterical need for the perpetual head nod

Knowing a shake may shatter the shallow shambles you call solidarity

Polluted precision

the calling card of mankind

Stained structures and hazmat huddles

Cluttered minds with no jurisdiction

Face mask population
black stained the blue

What was once considered unexcused is now exceptional

It slips by like a sickness

while we binge watch the bully called Hollywood

while we smear another signature on a rented luxury

Who can ever just be when so many things say why?

The natural ability for adaptation leaves room for neglect

shrugged shoulders and disconnection

We fight for air in this crowded garden

metal florals with the concrete cloves

smiles fall and we feel the weight of full corners

A slow ride may reassemble a notion of purpose

tree smoke with a tree top tincture

Still

the speed demon decides the generation

It's all so hilarious
it's all so serious
It's all so human

Complicate me for a dozen sighs

A youthful urgency sick like gin

I panic when I'm left with time

A stranger creature fills this skin

Excuse my mind that remains remote

Confuse an eye that perceives the most

For every answer there is a mask

Full of wonder and steadfast cracks

Time takes another creature for a ride

Preconceived notions fall in kind

A picture splattered for your crime

Some pity scattered for your dime

Slots for coins and the dead dance dainty

The pinstriped smile says...

NOW SIR!

don't be hasty

You see these moments you spend considering ghosts

Comparing their pursuit of legendary quotes

Looking for a season so lovingly stoked

You forget the now and all it's seams

Frayed from function but pleasantly pleased

Exhausted of purpose from the perpetual squeeze

These lines left for common sound

These lies kept for fine tuned clowns

clutter an avenue once so pure

sidestep obscurity now fully mature

Tiptoe the twine now used for speech

Tin can communicators for your leap

A rusted voice box silently weeps

Comfort controlled a room temp torture

Grasping a stone for the high stake mourners

Your God died a thousand times

Your madness was muted by a void streaked sky

I leave you now with so much contradiction

and retire my climb from a floundering friction