-arriving at eglington west station-

there's the fragrance drifting off
of her shoulders
as she checks her reflection
on smartphone mirror app,
floral pattern matching the
bright of her nails,
the sun shining onto sequined flats
that show no wear.

-glencairn, glencairn station-

there's her youth indicated by
backpack, baseball cap,
and conversation subject matter
discussing video game system merit,
there's the hand me down excitement
of muddy knees and torn jeans,

-arriving at lawrence west station-

each millimetre contributing to grimace,
beard whisker, wrinkle stationed
to the sides of each of his eyes,
weary traveller, seemingly ignoring
everyone with grocery bag
occupying chair like child,

-Yorkdale, Yorkdale station-

we used to weave through these crowds
and people watch together,
and the people would watch us,
young love, so simple,
oblivious to stage,

fingers interlocked, blocking
crowds from passing by,
there was the taste of strawberry
banana smoothie, freshly squeezed,
on your lips, we'd race up
escalators, only to circle
back down, we'd find the nook
of book store, to steal a moment,
you'd ignite, ignoring the clatter
of barrista, starbucks adjacent,

and there would walk by or sit
dolled up princess,
adolescent tomboy,
aging cantankerous senior,

these faces haven't changed
as much as ours have.

-please stand clear of the doors-

in your vicinity,
i'm filled with corny questions like:

"what do you think of fate?"

if it is destined that we meet,
predetermined that we end up
as more than strangers,
more than friends,
then technically,
it doesn't matter
what i say
or prevent myself from saying,

these moments are orchestrated
by something greater,

if such a question elicits a groan,
then its the groan with which we'll start.

dinners at swiss chalet,
luxury before i knew luxury,
and though i've advanced
in diet since, nothing has
tasted better than
hot fudge sundae
mixed with parent smiles,
washed down with
Shirley Temples.

roadtripped to this campus
and walked along its empty halls,
the darkness outside increasing
the contrast of lights
on blown up DNA models,

i had notions in my head
of what this place would be like
but the question that
resonated through my visit was:
"could this ever be home?"

naval yard off in the distance,
i hear the synchronous shouts
necessary for a group of armed men,

i breathe in Illinois air
before speaking in an accent
discernible to all.

"is this it?"
the words i was too scared to ask,

thankfully,
it wasn't.

i reprise, i retrace,
i've got love for the chase,
your face when in place
that you've wanted to be,

i'm in space, i'm above,
i've got lives full of love,
and i'm choosing you with
all these words that i speak,

i can't lose, i could win,
i've got love that's within,
and i don't want to leave,
no i don't want to leave,

i've got you, i've got us,
i've got love more than lust,
i've got air that i breathe
and you, all i need.

i don't know, i can't go
through all this again,
i can't have you as friend,
when this turns into hate,

i won't fight but i might
keep this grip too tight,
fingers losing strength
such is fate,

i'll wish all the best
as heart sinks in chest,
i'll fail the test
and i'll show up late,

i'll have you, i'll have us,
i'll have all that and more,
until it falls to floor,
leaving empty space.

we dissect and we let
worst cases get the
best of us and
the rest of us,

and i know there are those
who hide within clothes
and feel like that they
can't adjust,

but if you take those fears,
dissolve them in years,
you'll find that they all fade,
they must,

so take chance on romance,
ignore all advance,
focus on now,
focus on trust.

in these years spent searching
for one to join with on this journey,
i've learned of preference,

all i want in a future mate
is someone who laughs at my jokes
and speaks with a british accent,

i make jokes too often
for silence to be a common response,

if this is to last forever,
i need not learn of tumbleweeds
and their propensity to roll,

and i know that fights will come,
i know that there will be
words shouted, that bubble forth
like rabid froth, and i know
that in those quiet moments
that follow, there's nothing
i'd rather hear than
"i'm sah-ray".

i miss you like
a child
misses innocence,
that sort of
uninhibited
longing
that no one explains
but everyone
has, at one point,
felt.

though we try to escape
this unkempt world
with its busy streets,
yelling men on street corners,
random outbursts from the impoverished,
advertisements peddling
face creams and running shoes
and lotteries and fried foods,
the noise of it all,
what silence do we hope to escape to?

a beach with sunset?
i can hear the wind
against the trees, the splashing
of these waves before me,
the birds, they're calling their
night songs, i hear laughing in
the distance,

what of empty church?
i hear the echoing of my footsteps,
the creaking of aged wooden benches,
and if i concentrate,
i hear the gentle flicker
of that row of candles, the
***** rings of past hymns,

what of padded isolation cells?
panic rooms, artificial solitude?
cling to them like supermen
only for emergent use,
close your eyes,
let the black envelop you,
meditate, if you know how,
relax, beyond earthly possessions...

when that mind begins to wander,
as it does, it's mandatory,
hear that voice inside your head,
telling you to stay focused?

telling yourself to stay focused
only starts the spin of things:

and then you hear the beat
of drums, african tribal rhythms,
or phil collins at the start of
"in the air tonight"
or the strings, is that pachabel?
i hear the start of "the sound of silence"
as if my mind is mocking me,
i hear the voice of my mother,
there's my father,
they're beside me and it's christmas,
i hear nat king cole,
i hear the sound
of knife through turkey,
i hear laughter,
it's yours,
i hear the sound of my
fingers as they run along your skin
and get tangled in your hair,
i hear a heartbeat,
direct through chest, then through
bell of stethoscope, i hear
the rocko's modern life theme song,
i hear thunder, i hear rain,
i hear the splashing of my shoes,
i hear the gravel, i hear cars,
i hear the city, the random beeping
indicating when to cross,
the sound of garbage being thrown out,
of doors opening, slamming,
metal against metal,
i hear applause,
after successful landing,
i hear recycled air above me,
i hear it all,

everything is right here,
there's no such thing as silence,
and that shouldn't be a problem,
in fact, i think it's beautiful.

though we all are decaying,
with minds collectively fading,
comfort is in confidence
to spin fast enough
to maintain balance.

to get over writer's block,
write.
not for likes, reblogs,
views, or compliments.
just start.
with words
and nothing more.

losing that longing
for validation
is a liberating cry
that i wish could echo
through these hills,
into libraries
and classrooms
and that notepad
which remains blank
at your bedside.

what is it to miss?

is it to sink in
imagined traps
like quicksand
or tar pits?

i can feel the
pulse of artery
inside my ears,
it speeds
when focus is lost
and thoughts return
to almost-forgotten
fragrances, and
awkward night moves.

i long for you
like MSG,
like toblerones at christmas,
like the aging
wish for breath
clear of wheeze
and joints free
of limitation,
like an addict
yearns not for drug
but respite,

like you
used to long for me.

your beauty is so
overwhelming
that i want to open
multiple tabs of you,
crash my computer
with curiosity
and overwhelm capacity,

in the blue screen that follows
i unscramble coding language,
and spell your name and
traits that i admire,

in that moment during restart
staring at the black of screen,
thoughts of 'us' are interrupted
when i see my own reflection.

old school game
like saying exactly how i feel
when i feel it
not waiting the allocated amount
of time before responding to texts
to feign aloofness

making out outside like
when i was 17 at my parents house
afraid of getting caught
with enough surrounding trees
to obscure vision
oblivious to the freezing
nature of this rain falling upon
our skin, it's slick against
my fingers, the perfect complement
to lips connected, the sound
of rain in the background, the feel
of it falling from the brim of baseball cap
(i'm wearing one for some reason?)
the taste of peach (it was apples before)
the fumbling of hands against clothing
(where before it was inexperience,
now the cold hinders movement)
your stunted giggles as my tongue explored
the movements in sync shortly after starting

this dance feels familiar
like slow song, hands on hip
nostalgic yet current
it's something i never knew i craved

days of creativity
have now been consumed,
by shuffling papers,
endless derivations,
analysis,
unneeded

(next slide)

days of creativity
have now been destroyed,
by chemical formulas,
molecular models,
electron,
repulsion

(next slide)

days of creativity
have now been recreated,
by a smile,
that puts the brightest
powerpoint projector
to shame...

(next slide)

days of creativity
have now been put together
by eyes that create an escape
from dull lecture,
(no longer lost,
in algorithm.)

(next slide)

so indescribable,
that presentations,
need not continue,
laser pointers put away,
lights off,
books closed.

i swear that rain,
tasted sweet from that sky,
as if kissed by the sun,
spun like cotton candy,
to melt on my tongue.

i swear the wind,
speaks more than silence,
the calls of the distance,
echo in its grasp.

i swear that smile,
seemed to stretch further then,
across your face,
when in my vicinity.

i swear the chill,
of winter, common,
burns now like icy toothpicks,
on skin.

i swear that grasp,
tight, never fleeting,
felt impenetrable,
a barricade to outside blows,

i swear the pain,
overfills the brim of comfort,
leaving one lost,
maps, compass in hand.

i swear that second,
of breath, in sync,
heartbeats, identical,
fingers, interlocked,
mouths, pressed together
with perfect pressure,
ticked slower than time
could allow.

i swear these hours,
of moments, recalled,
eyesight, scattered showers,
breath, short bursts,
concentration, struggling
to find continuity,
time's course runs slow,
just as before.

but i swear that rain
tasted sweet from that sky
as if kissed by the sun
spun like cotton candy
to melt on my tongue

the only time we care about the poor
is in disaster,
there's been freedom for decades,
but we're still owned by slave masters,
incorporated trademarks
branded on our spine,
the american dream,
might as well be bovine.
flagpole sitting flappers,
never expect to fall,
'33 til infinity,
greed affects us all,
and it's more,
than a disease,
there's no atticus,
instead, great gatsbies.
and boo radley,
aint gonna right these wrongs,
all we've got are our words
and the will to stand strong,
and it seems we're just monkeys,
launched into orbit,
in spaceships,
that only fall once reality hits,
and i don't see any solutions soon,
we consume and presume,
that this is all a cartoon,
asterix fiction,
we lack conviction,
we lack the diction,
to speak our mind,
we are confined,
to the roles,
and the moulds,
and the holes,
that are made for our souls,
we stay out of the spotlight,
even when the times right,
allergic to great heights,
like madden going to superbowls.
ice cold,
a wise man said was cooler than cool
but these fools aint never heard of ice-nine,
it's the right time,
got the right rhymes,
who cares about these thugs,
i'm set on madoff crimes,
who cares about the dealers,
follow the money like the wire,
we're civilians in vans under apache fire,
and the cover-up is comin,
the cover-up is comin
the cover-up is comin
the cover-up is comin
the only time i'm hostile,
is within,
when i gotta smile
at these businessmen,
that are tearing us apart,
and ******* on our soil,
tearing out our hearts,
creeping like the mcboyles,
i've toiled in the trenches,
for most of my days,
as have the majority of those i know,
and we can't just quit,
we gotta get paid,
materialstic societies depend on dough,
so we dream of being on boats like samberg
the only threat to our fatasses is the hamburg
-ler, there's no cure, there's no care,
there's no health, it's not fair,
but if you keep on dreamin, one day it'll be there,
simply stare at the sun, things'll brighten up,
keep buying that product, trust me, they give a ****,
fall into place, stand in single file,
and whatever you do, don't forget to smile.

you are everything
you are everyone
you are every cliche
you are the sun,
you are the stifling heat
that cannot be escaped
you are valentines cards
misdirected and misshaped,
you are hotmail,
you are myspace,
you are my face,
hungover and exhausted,
you are lost kids,
you are something that was fun,
you are not getting shotgun,
you are beer
that's been in the sun
too long,
you are a sad song,
that's not been made better,
you are the hole in my sweater,
or my pockets,
you are the chalky sugar that's
passed off as rockets,
you are the first drummer of the beatles,
you are evil,
and i don't mean that jokingly,
you are choking me,
like turtlenecks,
or high stake bets,
made on the wrong team,
you are what seems like
a good idea at the time,
you are past tense,
you are jeans caught in the fence
preventing teens from sneaking in,
you are cold wind on a dry winter's day,
you are Coldplay's last two albums,
you are too much talcum powder
you are convenience store flowers,
you are forced,
you are hoarse
voices in place of song,
you are wrong,
you are the weakest link,
you are outdated references,
you are beverages,
that have lost carbonation,
you are hesitation
that leads to regret,
you are the new york mets,
you are first impressions
that i make on the elderly,
you are Beverly Hills Chihuahua,
you are foie gras,
you are aqua
and their music in my head,
you are cold beds,
warm beer,
empty freezers,
old tears,
fake appeasers,
new fears,
you are the moments
when it feels like no one's near,
you are searching for Waldo for hours,
you are any buildings "bigger" than the cn tower,
you are fake,
you are first date awkward silence,
you are last date awkward silence,
you are violence,
you are hybrid suvs,
you are bees,
you are black flies,
you are forgetting an event is black tie,
you are something nice to forget,
you are socks that are wet,
you are the slow driver in the left lane,
you are fame,
you are fleeting seconds
never to be recaptured,
you are the man on the corner
screaming about rapture,
you are actors selling out,
you are stains on a couch,
you are lost remotes,
you are failed attempts to save face,
you are everything
that has ever graced
this time and space,
here and above,
you are everything,
you are love...

i was raised in the suburbs,
that's where i learned my first words,
also where i learned to curb,
any notions of uniqueness,
this bleakness, was fostered,
in our fundraisers, door-to-door,
selling subscriptions, order more,
and don't ask what the money's for,
school spirit for sports, i never played,
go bears, no care, for my awkward phase,
my awkward ways, 2 buses and a subway,
to get downtown, to hear that sound,
of cars, of movement,
home i'd found,
i was homeward bound,
surrounded by people,
the streets became my easel,
the streets became my easel,
the streets became my easel.

the suburban nights i remember best
deserted street, our love confessed,
riding, trying to avoid attention,
fogged up windows, signs of affection,
what did we know? best of intentions,
you were the girl that i met in detention,
feelings fostered in parks
that were well maintained,
neighbourhood watch campaigns,
trimmed grass, cul-de-sacs
sterile sidewalks, no art attacks,
i'd take you out,
to avoid cafeteria fries,
the tears in your eyes,
echoing words of those you despised,
hallway acoustics, erased by a quick kiss,
love notes in lockers,
we swore, we'd come back and prove our validity,
that wasn't me, that isn't me,
i am more than you thought that i'd ever be
in hindsight, that goal was empty.
in hindsight, that goal was empty.
in hindsight, that goal was empty.

i rode this train in an attempt to arrive
at a destination thought mutually suitable,
mutually doable, the journey viewable,
and verified viewed in full,
but our paths differed along the way,
our grip withered from pursuits of gpa,
the sacrifices made for a number,
sweat and anxiety, tears and fear,
from what would occur, if not maintained
in the exact range, expected by academics
i'm a polemic, seen through these false idols,
graduates don't know a thing about survival,
vital signs drained to the point of oblivion,
questioning just isn't how you win, it isn't in,
they're sittin' in their leather chairs,
dismissin' receding hair,
in front of leather-bound books,
leather patches on their elbows,
their vacant look,
behind eyeglasses, so cold,
i tried to ace classes, to sit in the seats
of these empty elite,
to live up to expectation,
and after convocation,
i took my place in a chair
behind a plexiglass pane,
initials after my name on
my orange jumpsuit,
i only now realize the truth.
i have all that i sought,
but lost all that i had.
i have all that i sought,
but lost all that i had.
i have all that i sought,
but lost all that i had.

(9-24-11 instrumental)

it takes 2 years to forget 6 years,
it takes 12 beers to forget your tears,
and it's those tears that flow so near,
this backyard that you hold so dear,
i held you here in better years,
i'd cheer you up, when i'd hear your fears,
the taste of beer and sky so clear
steer away now, it's in the rear,
view and that feels so cold,
i only see you through untagged photos,
youtubing high school talent shows,
or recitals, it's vital, that no one
actually knows, that i'm caught up
bought to get lost up,
another drink, another think,
i'm just a flawed ****,
but i play it cool and act strong,
those other fools won't last long.


another sad song, i make it better,
got a new chick that's wetter cause
she aint afraid of that weather,
umbrellas discarded, in the bleachers,
teachers, gawking from the sidelines,
it's all fine, it's our time,
no need to dodge landmines...
call me minesweeper,
call me mindreader,
call me timekeeper,
call me justin bieber,
call me baby, baby baby,
call me jay-z, call me kanye,
call me all day, call me homewrecker,
call me and say i can do better,
call me about your sweater,
that's still at my place,
call me ghostface, call me action bronson,
call me hot one, call me ******* loser,
call me a waste of your time,
call me and say that this rhyme's, too simple,
call me jimmy kimmel, sarah silver-man.
i'm a better man, i'm business-man, i'm a gentle-man
i'm stan, writing this down in a crazy letter
no ink, self-mutilation and a feather,
better yet, i'm saying this outloud in the booth,
kick this rap game in the tooth with these red wing boots.

it's been a rollercoaster ride.

and the negativity associated with that
is not due to the lows that followed the highs,
the pain in my neck when taking sharp turns,
or the screaming banshee in my ear,

they are instead due to the fact
that i've only ever coasted,
locked in, auto-pilot,
top gun, eyes ahead,
the thrills and the relief,
the exaltation and release,
they were all under control,
of outside forces.

i thought it would be fun,
reached the height that was mandated,
and rose closer to the sun,
than ever thought possible.

in hindsight, i'd rather
recall our jokes about
the awkward sweating faces
of those queued up for hours,
as we lay in the shade enjoying
ice cream,
funnel cake,
eye contact.

i've learned from scientists
the miracle of magnets
and from magicians
the secrets of tombs aztec
and though i've learned
from anatomists
every muscle of your smile
while exposed to my
retina and optic nerve
there's no explanation
for how this heart stirs...

regardless of posited
hormones or neurotransmitters,
textbook figures, controlled exams,
flow charts, histograms,
there is no quantifiable
measure of the distance
my heart jumps
when in relation
to you.

the hollow glow of city lights
shine on fruitless futile pursuits
empty smiles and business suits
trash piles behind phone booths,
contracts, files, the destitute,
red lights, golden tooth,
searching for truth,
to only find lies,
when people lose their homes
what should they occupy?
try, for a second,
to walk in those shoes,
in a system designed to f*ck us all,
what do you think you'd choose?
don't confuse your luck,
for an inability to fall,
you say that just the way it is?
well that's just not your call.

and it's pitch black outside,
and there's nobody left,
and the only sound you hear
is the beating of your chest,
squint your eyes to see
the faint outlines of your breath,
before running in a direction
where you assume the others went.

a sky so full of stars,
that it looks more white than black,
the silence of no cars,
the panic of no way back,
the sweat upon your forehead
is working its way down,
its salty taste against your tongue,
before falling to the ground.

is this how it ends?
sprinting past trees at full speed?
the warmth of friends
replaced by the smell of weeds?
dirt and grass in place of
broken glass and concrete?
words meant to have been spoken
forever incomplete?

the wind is calm now,
as your endurance fades,
and as you pause to sit down,
memories are replayed,
how pointless was that anger?
that frustration? that shame?
had you known this was to happen,
would it have played out the same?

i never pegged you for someone
swept up by razzle dazzle,
infatuated with muscle men,
acrobats, and stars.
your view on animal rights,
seemingly discarded,
for an elephant's tricks,
the lion tamer's whip,
the tent apparently blocking out
harsh judging light.

i viewed you as critical,
skeptical of spectacle,
squinting unsure,
behind those black wayfarers,
the image constructed in my mind,
supported by that vintage dress,
the style of your hair,
the music you listened to
on the car ride over,
how can you be satisfied
with this carnival fare?

frivolous displays favoured
over subtle gestures,
superficial appearances favoured
over chemistry,
hollow showman dialogue
echoing over loudspeakers
favoured over a conversation,

perhaps i'm a hypocrite,
your attributes simply skewed,
by my being swept up in the
razzle dazzle spectacle
of you.

(i'll be in the hall of mirrors)

i dont really know what im interested in,
but right now my interest's in you.
right now the only ambition i have
is to hold boomboxes outside your window.
and that sentiment was cute when i was 15,
skipping gym class to spend
some more time as a friend,
but as of right now, i should have a drive
towards something more responsible,
than the feel of your cheek
against mine.

i have no clue what im capable of,
but how can any feat compare,
to the brilliant warmth that is
found in those eyes
when one of these jumbles of words
makes you smile?
or better yet, laugh?

these curls, these crunches, these chinos, these white strips,
these copies of The Economist and the New York Times,
are all in attempt to make sure that the glow
that emits from those pores remains visible.
health is a clever cover-up, without the motivation,
i'd listen to The Smiths for just the melodies,
and help myself to another portion (of bacon).

right now, the only reason i'm writing this down,
is i hear that chicks dig poetry,
they're constructed in this way to feign substance,
so that you might associate substance with me,
and when i go on stage to perform these words,
it's in hopes that you'd hear them,
or at least hear that i'm a "slam poet".

these moments of knowing and not-knowing,
make this life worthwhile
and honestly i feel like that's f*cked up,
but i'd rather the question be,
one where you're the answer,
than one where you're not a factor.

the scent of that moment
a mélange of:
orange neutrogena
axe body spray
dentyne ice
hair glue (yes, glue)
and apple body mist
...breathe it in

the look of that moment
squinting in the dark:
pursed lips
eyes shut
head tilt (37 degrees)
face lit up
by a movie
whose plot i've long forgotten
(or better yet, barely noticed)
...take it in

the feel of that moment
a culmination:
the gentle collision
of lips
fingers subtly grazing
hair like
beaded curtains
a tongue
accustomed to
the glue on envelopes
and melting ice cream
suddenly embraced
by another
...don't let it pass

paying for my poems
to be put onto a site
this must be a joke

i'm an astronaut,
aimlessly floating through space,
afraid to grasp at
floating objects,
moving swiftly 'round me,
pointless calculations
of velocity and direction,
consume my decisions
until it's all out of reach.

though i'm pulled towards
these stars,
they're much too dangerous to touch,
the reactions, the heat,
i know not to get pulled in,

but meteor, you shine,
with an effervescent glow,
smooth rounded corners,
i edge slowly towards you,
butterfly stroking
through zero gravity,
it's not long until you
fill the gaze through this helmet,

but proximity somehow
changes this drive,
i justify waiting
by forcing imperfections,
shrugging off the journey
before it even happens,
after all probability states that
this mission will likely
end incomplete,
trajectories in sync
are a rarity at best,
perfect arcs can quickly differ
soon after their peaks.

this vacuous environment
clouds better judgment,
fleeting moments of comfort are
like recycled air,
bland maintenance of life,
the taste of postage stamps.

let's not forget the reason,
why we now float aimless,
years of training for a mission,
that fell apart when truly tested.

i'm hopeful,
i'm hopeful that this will all come together soon.

the answers will appear to all of these swirling questions,
overwhelming, drowning underneath, we all seem to be,
and as we keep swimming, the tide gets stronger,
as if there is no calm water ahead.
what will we make of this journey,
which path will we take? does it even matter?
my shipmates, we were tossed overboard,
one by one,
by choice or by force,
and as we reach out for buoys,
gasping for breath,
for a semblance of sanity,
we recall our problems being simpler,
a blazing sun,
her lips, my tongue,
a roadway for one,
the way i would run,
the way i could run.

tell me now, as oxygen is replaced,
with cool bursts of reality,
when will this be over?
the mirage of a shore, seems closer
than ever, and i'm sure
that it will all be explained with clarity
once i'm there, the meaning of this all,
we'll laugh about the urgency
with which we swam.

as we set off, water as smooth as a warm caress,
fully operational, easy as pie,
elaborate questions were simple, as our minds were,
what's next? where are we going?
who's staying for the long haul?

and when the initial wave of panic subsided,
as we soon realized the fate of our ship,
foreboding as the water seemed,
the blue reminded us of sky.

it didn't feel too cold,
a gentle winter gust,
we could practically touch,
the warm sand ahead.

but then the winds changed,
i guess our minds changed,
i lost sight of the eyes that were locked,
with mine while we sank,
and as i scrambled to find them,
i realized that this, was not a drill,
and there really was, no turning back,
sitting on the deck, playing board games,
forgetting my name, leaning on canes,
forever the past.

and i thought i'd be the best swimmer,
underestimated the strength of waves,
i see the splashes, of churning feet, far ahead,
others, drying off, laughing on land,
we were the same not long ago.

i swim with purpose,
the method has changed,
the destination, the same,
but just as i see those who've reached the end,
i see those who've chosen to wait,
rescue choppers, coast guards,
a lifeline, perhaps.
others, piecing together the ship,
hoping to see it once again, set sail,
and if i could shake my head,
without compromising my front crawl,
i guess i would.

because there's a point to this struggle,
that's what we've been told,
there'll be answers on that beach,
along with joyous recollection,
there'll be you and me, and everyone else,
and the water that we drink,
will taste so much better than
the bitter dreck through which we swim.

back on that ship, i recall,
a wise philosopher once saying,
"just keep swimming".
that blind optimism,
a pixar mindset,
said nothing of direction,
or inevitable casualties.

the colour of a collar,
is not a mood ring,
it's blue or white,
it doesn't suddenly change,
depending on how you feel.

the division of classes,
is not hopscotch,
you can't simply jump
from square to square,
gracefully,
over stones.

debt,
like other four-letter words,
is a constant that cannot be erased,
regardless of fancy business cards,
or the poetry of your scalpel.

doubt,
like other underlying emotions,
sprouts and blooms,
when least convenient,
let logic be the shears,
that keep your mind
green, and tidily kept.

let your experience
grant you perspective,
never get caught up
in show and tell,
ant farms,
and pet rocks,
cannot be compared.

never hold with derision
what you've overcome,
or come from,
wear those badges proudly,
like a child wears
bike scars (3 stitches).

never let the memories,
of adversity
fade, let them remind
you of circumstances,
never to be repeated.

past purchases,
do not determine worth,
tie clips are superfluous,
silk and polyester,
are not discernible from a distance.

let the lack of a title,
in your pedigree,
fill you with pride,
not embarrassment.

let the sacrifices of those
before you,
ring with honour,
not with shame.

let your actions
be a logical extension,
of the dreams deferred
on your behalf.

let the blue of your collar
never fade with washing,
regardless of what's implied
by initials after names.

she laughs at my jokes...
i would quit my job
and become a comedian for you
ardently writing for hours on end
just for that laughter to
constantly ring out like
bells near that church on the hill

it's been 6 months since we last spoke
it's been 10 months since my heart broke
and i know that no one's listenin
you are the only victim
but should i feel no pain,
just because i wrote the last note?
it was a b-sharp, less funny every time,
you say that you didn't see the signs,
that you were blind,
you say that it was all constructed in my mind,
fine, you must be keeping memories behind.

and i've got shame, i'm the one to blame
after 5 dates i had in mind baby names,
the fast lane, a love so free of chains,
i know that i'll never feel the same,
forever was a word early introduced,
easily the truth, to a mind so naive,
there were no tricks up sleeves,
no motives beneath,
just you, and me,
in sync, we would breathe.

the words that were said,
mixed with moments in your bed,
you say that you feel misled
but just know one thing,
that it was all truth
and had things not changed
in the way that they did,
you'd have that ring,
you'd have me still,
breathing hearts on windowsills,
s + a, what better way
for a heart to fill?
and i'd **** for us to
be like we were,
but with time comes change,
there is no cure

there is no us, in this current place,
as much as i would like to retrace,
walks on a campus, I can't just,
get by on the warmth of that smile
on your face.

i hope that smile will once again shine,
and that you'll have someone's love
like you once had mine,
and that you'll find room in your heart
for what we once shared,
i dared to care, placed my world
in that stare,
but something faded from your eyes,
impossible to find,
shrunken down to a size,
like it was no longer there,

we never feared that
we'd grow distant over years,
funny how distance,
can make things clear
it was more than kilometers that
came between us,
it was reality,
and an inability to adjust.

and i hope that you realize
that just because i made the choice,
doesn't mean that my voice,
doesn't tremble when
someone you resemble,
walks across my path,
it takes me back,
to a dorm room,
you, me, and calculus math.
a sleepy embrace,
before morning class.

and I wonder, what's behind,
that seemingly blank stare?
is there a fight against the pain
that she cannot share?
would she strive to make a difference,
or still be stuck in this place,
refusing to change a cycle
she's unable to face?

I refuse to believe,
that this was her choice,
I cannot simply accept
the calmness of her voice,
behind that stare,
I see a brilliant fire,
yearning for the fuel,
to be brought higher.

and I wonder..
would she use her voice
to make a sound,
against an uncaring world,
that brought her down?
one that silenced her so quickly,
before she even had a chance,
judged so forcefully,
with a fleeting glance.

and I wonder what could have been,
the moments she's missed..
that awkward first kiss,
the feel of someone's care.
to never walk down the aisle
or feel the warmth of a child,
stripped of that privilege,
unaware, it was even there.

I doubt she'd waste her chance,
like so many of us do,
because behind that stare,
I see a strength, true.
I see a desire, often lacking
in my very own peers,
and I see neglected wisdom,
far beyond my years...

I remember a day,
when the clouds were illuminated,
by a bright pink sky...
everything that seemed important,
just melted away,
and in a stare:
innocence resurfaced,
and was joined by joyous curiosity,
all due to the beauty of
a sky that was pink...
cotton candy over the
dull apartment buildings,
pink lemonade in the sky,
even made smoke stacks pause in awe,
games were stopped,
shovels were dropped,
and collectively we stared,
wide-eyed, smiling brightly,
and all at once,
we reached out to grab a piece,
trying to hold onto its beauty,
but eventually...
black replaced pink,
indifference replaced joy,
acceptance replaced innocence,
and the cotton candy/pink lemonade,
became bitter black licorice,
that not even the man in the moon
could eat.

the cold of your skin
the warmth of mine
it was in the
opposites
that it all made sense

we stirred
together
to a perfect temperature

my rash impulsivity
your calculated drive
it was in the
opposites
that it all made sense

we became
experts
at spontaneous plans

the blatant boom with which i speak
your subdued familiarity
it was in the
opposites
that it all made sense

we would
harmonize
like singers

like lovers

smother me in your molasses,
slowly,
pour yourself all over me
so that I can no longer breathe,
no longer inhaling,
but not suffocating,
only getting another taste
of that sweet, sweet molasses,
better than air.

thick, brown, beautiful,
the process, slow,
only heightens expectations,
what will the future hold,
when I'm fully immersed?

hoping you will never harden,
like those halloween candies
that no one eats,
instead, be the one,
who stays smooth,
and covers me,
in sweetness.

the most beautiful day
brings impermanence to mind,
the sunshine won't last,
the wind will cease...

joyful memories
will eventually be forgotten
and the gerber baby
died a long time ago,

so how can anyone
smile?

I miss the days,
when monsters
were tearing apart my closet,
and happiness
was for no apparent reason,

I miss the curiosity
I had in the world around me...

but now I know it all,
I know of my own mortality,
my heroes have fallen,
naivety shattered,
we have no control,
over life,
over death.

so how can anyone
smile?

I found my smile
in you.

death by your side,
makes a life fulfilled.

and this lack of innocence,
is lost in your eyes:
they make the sun shine again
(even at 2 am).

they cause wilted nature
to spring up in endless beauty.
and force the wind to blow again
a warm and calming breeze.

they cause all that's been exposed,
to revert to how it was,
when there were monsters in my closet.
simple innocence.

Small talk is much more of the former than the latter,
small, definitely,
but I've rarely, ever, talked.

My favourite?
"How Are You?"
As if the true gauge of such a complex question
can be summed up in a random stop and chat.

My response?
"not bad",
or something similar no doubt,
but sometimes,
I feel like being honest...

honestly...

i feel like boo radley in a town full of atticus,
feel like i deserve no more than the back of the bus,
feel like every single word that i say,
is another cliche, just another cliche,

feel completely silent, scream with no effect,
hope to find a true meaning, it still hasn't happened yet,
feel divided, from this joke we partake in,
where every single victory, is simply, a fake win,

why is nostalgia the only feeling that's appealing?
back when inadequacies weren't worth concealing,
that's all i cherish, that's all i want now,
and instead i'm standing here, and you're wondering how...
am i?

“...How Are You?!”

when fate's gentle whisper turns into a scream,
and crashing down come all of your dreams,
a roaring tide from what once was a stream,
tell me, is everything as lost as it seems?

"when one door closes, another one opens!",
that's nonsense,
i'm staring at a one-sided peephole, hoping,  
that the people that said they would help,
and forgot,
truly feel how the hell i've felt.

...that's how i am.

you are everything,
you are everyone,
you are every cliche
...you are the sun
you are oxygen,
you are in the trees,
you are orange leaves,
you are cool autumn breeze
that spreads across my spine,
you are forgotten dreams,
you are a glass of wine,
you are what reminds,
you are fine lines,
you are the key,
you are a plus sign,
you are what girls try
to become,
you are the why,
you are the sum,
you are bassdrums,
you are a symphony,
you are the child too naive
to realize that he's on stage,
you are every page,
you are every book,
you are the librarian's glasses,
you are classes,
that i may or may not have took,
you are the stun experienced
when things fall into place,
you are every race,
you are the taste,
of fresh produce,
you are abuse,
escapen,
you are an excuse,
shaken,
you are the noose,
breakin',
you are the clues,
finally taken,
you are a puzzle with pieces
all aligned,
you are dominos lined up
right before they fall,
you are every hall,
you are each phone call,
you are the brick wall
that kids throw tennis ***** against,
you are consequence,
you are every scent,
you are fresh cement,
waiting to be written on,
you are every song,
you are every play,
you are Broadway,
you are the crowds,
you are everything i say,
you are SCREAMING LOUD
in unallowed places,
you are familiar faces,
you are a smile after braces,
you are untied laces,
you are jumping over cracks,
you are warm candle wax,
you are dark moments
lightened by humour,
you are rumours
being shattered,
you are fish,
beer battered,
you are wishes,
when they matter,
you are the everafter,
you are the former,
and the latter,
you are the feet in the swimming pool
of those who cant swim,
you are slim jims,
you are macho man randy savage,
you are a test above average,
you are an ebay feedback rating,
you are ice skating,
on frozen lakes,
you are every birthday cake,
and every candle,
you are frosted milkshakes,
you are socks with sandals,
you are being outside the norm,
you are insightful vandals,
you are anarchy, restrained,
you are villains, reformed,
you are emcees without champagne,
you are Dylan on tour,
you are looking down,
before you let go,
you are a star's glow,
you are a peep show,
you are every mystery,
you are ***-pourri,
you are the guarantees
that are actually kept,
you are the moment
you forget why you wept,
you are the fizzy beverage
that makes one reminisce
or accept,
you are the first kiss,
you are the final step,
you are the trace of the past
that one must chase,
you are realizing that
time's too fast,
to replace,
you are the sun,
shining down into an unseen place,
you are cliches,
you are warmth and grace,
you are everyone,
that has ever graced,
this time and space,
here and above,
you are everything...
...you are love.

you ended our conversation with a 'see you later'
knowing full well you wouldn't
i'd like to think it was a slip of the tongue
rather than a rub of salt but
there's no way to be certain

i can't describe what it's like
to realize that the stubble on my face
is the same that brushed against your cheek
or this hair, the same that your
fingers navigated through
like blades of grass

if i could say that i was sorry
in a way that you'd appreciate,
i would. but we're too fargone,
this foregone conclusion
was only constructed in
the heart of one of us.

if i could give you back the time,
that you've stated now was wasted,
each memory, cards with
words of forever strewn about,
rings that were promises,
walks by the riverside,
while golden sunshine ushered
in new love, coffees paired
with wintry walks through an empty campus,
where i first realized, i'd miss you.
i would. but sand in an hourglass,
can't float upwards, regardless
of intent.

i have a soft spot
for cough drops
that are cherry flavoured
in the wintertime,
savour the moments left,
watching the outlines of my breath,
wondering why we step
out of ourselves constantly,
wanting another place,
chasing another dream,

dream of heat in the winter,
dream of frost in the sun,
dream for the end of **** exams,
tears well up when its done,
satisfaction can be found
in cherry-flavoured halls,
light shining on a fresh snowfall,
swear you're not high on the menthol,

real ice, in the moonlight,
makes that bling on their necks look amateur,
unsure of stability,
you lay down, and watch the sky,
starlight, mixed with cherry-halls, and your
breath in the wintertime,
savour moments like fine wine,
might as well just stop trying,

take these moments, take that breath,
take that flavour, take what's left,
focus on it, don't take a step,
live just for the sake of it,
forget the consequence,
and all responsibility,
and other 6-syllable words,
that we're fed repetitiously.

never underestimate
anticipation
let it be
like the clicking
of a rollercoaster
car as it
rises to the top
of a hill
steady climb
right before the brink
of freefall
and as you shiver
quiver
as it wells up
inside
inhibitions
stress
thoughts
in general
all
disappear
and as you
realize
that there
is no turning back
truly
locked in
for what is
next
an odd sense
of calm
overcomes
and as you
raise your hands
and let out
top-of-your-lung
breaths
gravity
attempts to
pull you down
back to
earth
but with
anticipation
what's meant
to be
fast chaotic
excess
becomes an
even steeper
climb
all the way
to cloud
nine

you gotta hold onto summer nights,
luscious trees glistening in bright moonlight,
paints a picture like,
things wont ever get better,
letters typed, can't ever describe
just how live
you feel, with a breath of that air,
and how quickly that free breath fades...
as time invades, once again,
warm embraces end,
soon after they begin,
temporary at best, temporary at worst,
i can't be the first to know this!
i notice, that the summer gets shorter each year,
and the fear that i won't live up to,
set expectations,
leads to hesitation, to start taking life
serious, but fear it just...
seems to paralyze, as i realize,
that this is all that there is,
and i can't describe what i want to do
with myself, i mean... i don't want to be stuck
on a shelf, i just... can't be looked over,
this must be the reason why we cant stay sober,
in life, death is always over our shoulders,
just waiting to take summer nights,
and luscious trees glistening in moonlight,
try as i might, they fade quicker
each year, but i refuse to be a short
paragraphed obituary. and i refuse to be
one of those forgotten many.
i refuse to let all that i have in this head
go to waste without changing the lives
of those misled.
i refuse to let summer nights just go to waste
on pointless *****-drinking, what was i thinking?
i refuse to let mind-numbing 9 to fives
allow me to forget the fact that i am alive,
and i can change the world,
and that i can make my obituary
front. page. news.
i refuse.

the warmth of summertime,
you can almost taste it,
thankful for the sunshine,
not a second wasted,
faced with a warm breeze,
pines become palm trees,
swaying in the wind,
as if they embraced it,

these days are made with,
the feel of your grace,
the smile on your face,
resting on my pillowcase,
there is no other place
that can match this second,
so i hold on to this moment,
trust, i've learned my lesson,

cause the summertime
will soon become winter fury,
and your smile, in that summer,
it's the only thing to cure me,
and surely,
the only thing that keeps me sane,
is knowing you're still the same,
and neither snow, nor rain,
can change

you,
you're the summer, in snow,
you've got that special glow,
that i hope is only known,
by me, cause honestly,
if they were to see,
what i can see,
they would break you down,
bottle you up,
and sell your soul,
like ecstasy

thats what you do to me,

and it may sound twisted,
but the warmth that you bring,
is a gift that was lifted,
from a place that only be amongst the clouds,
you are the brightest light,
shining in a massive crowd,

and I'm wowed by your grace,
there is no other place,
that can erase,
your face smiling on my pillowcase,
i'll retrace those seconds in my mind,
because you,
are the taste of summertime.

searching for answers, written in the silences,
the blank walls, the vacant humming of appliances,
the saliva white expanse, of clouds across the sky,
contain only rain, no response to questions 'why'

the lines, that'd crease your face,
upon a smile when in my gaze,
still form patterns that i can trace,
that resemble, a completed maze,

i swear to god i called your name,
outside, and i heard you call back,
keep memories, like chips, in small stacks,
makes em seem larger than in actual fact.

they same time heals, but can it resurrect?
body stiff, unresponsive, the same as when you left,
through curtains closed, i can feel your silhouette,
laughing at time wasted, mocking lost bets.

--
[chorus]
and too many times i've raised all-in,
blind, not having seen the cards,
forgetting the house always wins,
left to pick up broken shards.

and too many times i've raised all-in,
blind, not having seen the cards,
forgetting someone else always wins,
left to pick up broken shards.
--

how can such vivid images fade?
i relive these moments scarred,
the rain tasting sweet in your backyard,
as if squeezed from saccharine stars.

when my eyes, adjusted to that light,
pupils wide enough, to embrace yours,
i made sure to bend the corners of every page,
never to forget that dress you wore.
(you wore blue)

in one second, with breath in sync,
with heartbeats identical and fingers interlocked,
our mouths pressed together, with perfect pressure,
i committed myself, all i had in stock.

regardless of how cool the element feels,
you constantly bubble over, spilling across the surface,
staining a slate that was once so clean,
with the semblance of a mistaken purpose.

--
[chorus]
--

excision seems so easy a concept,
removing that, which you wish to remove
if only emotions worked as such at the onset,
a scalpel and a strong desire to forget.

the wind seems to speak more than silence,
the calls of the distance, echo in its grasp.
your laughter lingers, sound unchanged,
stubbornly refusing to be in the past.

the unanswered questions of where and why,
pile up, ignoring desired simplicity,
whether another name can drip from your lips?
or whether, in moments of honesty, you still think of me?

searching for answers, written in the silences,
the blank walls, the vacant humming of appliances,
the saliva white expanse, of clouds across the sky,
contain only rain, no response to questions 'why'

--
[chorus]
--

she looks at me as if to say,
you were simply,
an honest mistake,
made with good intention,
and nice at the time,
but long since forgotten,
a futile woodwind, in
an orchestral life,
struggling to make an impact,
on hyperbolic composition...

tell me, truthfully,
you don’t remember its pitch,
the call of its notes,
rang true, it seemed,
for you to imply,
it was not even heard,
makes a mockery of the
efforts made,

honestly, just once,
say its crescendoes
did not bellow, with
the strength of
a timpani, the
sweetness of flutes,
the heart of a sax,

say that the notes
that you sang at the time,
were a lie, simply,
an honest mistake,
and i'll leave this composition,
promising though it seemed,
broken and incomplete,
just as you’d like.

your breath is the,
whisper,
of a higher being,
teaching me of
happiness unknown,

the pounding of my chest,
is the breakbeat,
of joy, in tune with,
ecstasy and unlimited desire,

lying awake, no
need for sleep, energy
renewed, by running
fingers through
your hair...

(lost in the black,
I've no need for them back...)

thirst for water, is satiated
by lips, so soft, your sweat,
sticks, to my soul,
your tears, when happy,
are my oasis, when sad,
reveal, an unknown drive...

I could dive into your
smile, springboard
off your perfection,
splash, in a beauty,
that I certainly don't deserve,

I could bask in your
intelligence, eloquence
and charm, never worried,
of the consequences
of their strength...

I would confine myself,
to rigid structures/rhyme schemes,
if it meant that I could keep you,
in my dreams...

I could love you for,
eternity,
reciprocated, I will,
you're all i want to see, breathe,
drink and feel...

all we have to look forward to,
are solitary birthdays.
isolated, desolate,
so why not start today?

friends, ones who are constant,
will fade as fast, as footprints
in snow, as breath on glass,
and all interaction is a
futile distraction.

used to long for a phone call,
crave your attention,
yearn for your laughter,
spend days in detention,
just to talk to you,
for a minute more,
than allowed by the man,
at the front of the class.

why?

why even try?
the ties that we form,
are temporary and meant
to break, the smiles,
the warmth inside,
it's all fake. a simple
chemical reaction,
nothing more complex.

if i could take back,
those seconds, if i could
take back those moments,
the fights and the joy,
the cheers and the drinks,
i would.

hurt would be more foreign.
and the solitary birthdays,
would seem commonplace.

instead, there's you,
there's everyone else,
there's the fear that it will
all just vanish, we're just
frivolous,
superfluous,
...temporary.

wishes to speak,
words that we could say,
longing for elsewhere,
we're doomed to this fate.

if this were a dream,
at least i'd awake,
if this were a movie,
at least there'd be a plot,
if this were a song,
at least it'd be remembered,
if this were a joke,
at least there'd be a punchline.

candles, cards,
cake, and company,
i'd lose them all
to avoid these moments.
to have you back,
and unknown,
bliss.

i'm lost without you....
not lost as in a
lost soul
or a metaphorical endless search
that i now find myself on.
i'm not aimlessly wandering
through an abyss,
the darkness of which
is only matched
by the black of your hair...
no.
i mean,
literally.
like you knew,
directions really well,
and would always remember
where i parked my car,
and you'd hold my hand to
guide me through a crowd
towards the
right cardinal direction.
that sort of lost.
pragmatic.
where do i go
from here?