Pull the curtain from over your eyes
See beyond the constructed lies

Stop your judging and demented cries
Of those whose point of view you deny

Feign ignorance to the truth you will not see
Watch the tide rise as common sense recedes

Hunker down in your dogmatic cocoon
Only to emerge and naive buffoon

Logic and science are trickery and bewitchment
Such are the thoughts of the ignorant  

Stick to your beliefs and fears like glue
For you read it in a sacred book so it must be true

Ask no questions and deny no absolutes
See where that takes you if you are so resolute

Watch the world crumble around you and blame the devil
For hes the creator of all ills and evil revel

Watch the powers that be consume and destroy
As they take away all living things health and joy

Pretend I offend your moral code
But deep down inside you fester with hypocritical mold

To NOT ask questions and seek new ways
Is to annihilate the future of all earthly days

it is a funny thing, what infatuation can do

when I see you and I breathe I can feel every cell
and see past the next moment
I can feel the way you move

anything can be a catalyst for you
a note in a song
my hair against my lip

I want to turn your head and make you see me the way I do

because with you comes this feeling
and with this feeling

oh I'm writing and singing
and dancing and moving
and even the cold air is welcome

but a year ago this poem had a different subject
why can I not infatuate myself
and keep constant the excitement of possibility

must I rely on a nameless stranger

There seems to be a thing that calls
it calls to us all
and we almost never know who it is
until we learn to fall
who he is
who she is
that brings us
a sense of loss
a sense of excitement
for the future
for the past
because of regret
because of lost time
because ultimately of fear
sometimes it's scary
to want to fall
into that feeling
to follow that call
because of disappointment
because of brokenness
but still we follow the call
but still we stay back
but still we want to taste
the sweetness that is just out of reach
the dangerous
the passionate
the real or the fake
and we race
and we win
and we lose
and we break
and we cry
we love and love and love
until we bleed and bleed and die
and we stand
and we run
and we race and we win
and we lose and we break
and we cry and cry and cry
and we bleed and bleed and die
still we love and love and lie
we love and love and fly
we fly and fly and fly
until we fall and die
and die
and stand
and race
always we race
always we love
always we win
always we lose
always we love

Gentle lady, do not sing
Sad songs about the end of love;
Lay aside sadness and sing
How love that passes is enough.

Sing about the long deep sleep
Of lovers that are dead, and how
In the grave all love shall sleep:
Love is aweary now.

I found your apologies along with a lighter in my pocket
the night I burned you away
Both were deep down in there.
Below the forgiveness
It was squeezed between the pieces of your broken promises
Collaged into the parts of my shattered heart
I found them folded into love letters
And engraved into the anxiety marks your lies left in me
I dug them out of the hole your deceiving left in the back of my mind
Buried right next to suspicion
I found your explanations hid beneath the mental memories of teeth
They never quite fit together
I saw them in the picture show behind my eyes
I’ve recklessly recreated to many times
I felt your callused pleads for forgiveness on my fingertips
after I pricked my pointer on your spikey “I didn’t do its”
I slipped on your confessions
nearly drowned in what could’ve been
Luckily, I realized before it was too late, that water is infinitely too deep
As is the pools of sympathy I had for you but never had for me
I used that lighter to smoke a cigarette that was packed down as well as your stories
You always exhaled like a script for the movie I’ve seen to many times called
“Please feel bad for me”
I found your I’m sorrys on the bottom my shoe
after I kicked the crap out of my “welcome to walk on me” mat
I threw away and replaced with a banner reading “please don’t come back soon”
I can’t claim I don’t know but I can say this feeling is new
Never thought you had what it takes to make me give up on you

I would my life were a movie,
that on the anniversary of your death
I could ride my bike, straight-backed,
hair blowing in the manufactured wind,
to your grave, with a perfect bouquet of flowers
perched in my basket, or else
zipped perilously into a backpack;
and, arriving at your headstone,
donate their impermanent beauty
to your memory, placing them
artistically
beneath the singular, factual phrases
that hold all remembrance of you
in their cold stone embrace.

But your ashes rest beneath the waves:
your tomb is the sea,
the sky your eternal epitaph;
and my heart has no physical place
to fix my mourning to.
And so I wander - for I must!
I cannot tie myself to the earth
when to the earth you are not tied,
when the wind carries your voice
and the rivers flow
with what once was your laughter.

The whole world is such a very big grave
for someone once so real as you.