i may have some nasty habits
hell: i know it’s in me,
but there’s a moment in there,
maybe just one,
between the crumbling oats in my mouth,
and the silence that exists.

Despite the music playing from my computer,
remembering becomes easy,
and that tiny piece of easy,
despite the whole bunch of difficult.

that moment of stillness,
reminding me of the last,
with all the difficult in between,
that tiny space is heaven,
and i may be far from it,
but i’ll be back;
my habits and I.

Smell the lotus,
she is here.
Breathe her in:
slowly, fully.

Her light, traces, you will see,
You remember her smile,
and ahh.. those dimples;
she does not mind,
to keep you a muse.

Next time just let her know:
the lights dancing around her,
are for you to perceive.

She is here as always,
that tickling presence,
right at the tip of your nose.

Petals float gently to the ground;
all around,
and all is revealed,
bathed in morning light,
and just as easily
the retreat into tonight.

They all said, “No!”
But i screamed on,
and my boomerang took flight,
to put an end to artificial light.

We were escaping harsh reality,
You and i were to be free.
When that boomerang got chucked,
we’d see the real revolutionary.

It would’ve been run down by their trucks,
but instead you brought it to me,
and we ran hand in hand,
down the back alley.

We were headed to the north,
just You and I.
Leaving the snow covered wasteland,
the only ones left truly alive.

I. Loathing

i would’ve torn you
a few new
if you knew
what i’d seen,
with eyes sewn
when i was shown
too soon.

II. Contrivance

The substance i walked through,
in dream this morning,
was most magnificent in composure:
crunching under one’s foot
like snow, or like sand,
but not cold to the touch,
nor did it stick when wet,

&& although the white tiny particles
poured out of the mountain,
on the side of it we walked,
holding your little hand.

I knew down the stretch was a beautiful beach,
where this substance,
met a glistening body of water.

Your animal was loving, just as you,
&& although your name surprised me,
i was in love to hear it nonetheless.

Your father had not yet arrived,
&& in your absence,
i left a tiny piece of my heart,
in your notebook.

The sign on the bus said “Omaha”,
and it seemed so familiar,
but my memoryscreamed
somewhere like Mqt, Ca.,

&& although i didn't acquaint with the other troublemakers
on the back of the bus, as i waited, i watched.

You came up to me, and our embrace
was so warm, your tiny ribs against mine,
beautiful brown hair in my face.

How strange it was, in this sun bathed dream,
when you should tell me your name,
i should not understand it at first,
&& asking again, focusing within your fortunate eyes,
you told me exactly what i should need to hear.
&& ponder i did, although
not without first telling you how lovely it was.

III. Realization

It seems you and i
have both fallen short
of our prospective places
in Babylon.

For i have not grown
into the man
you once dreamt
i should be,

and you are no longer
the lovely girl
i once thought
i would marry.

You and i are free to be
what we are; without
persecution or judgement
from one another,

but we both must understand
the waves we created
when our dreams and realities
did not actually coincide,

&& perhaps the dreams
that i have had, and still am having
are just ripples
from a past that didn’t happen.

IV. Peroration

You're no longer the dreamer
i fell in love with,
&& i am no longer the dream
you thought you once loved,

but please may we
free our hearts and release
all the contempt
we hold one another in?

It’s not your fault
you were everything i wanted,
and it wasn’t enough
to quell my soul.

please know though,
we need not hold knots,
and let our cold spots,
and ill thoughts rot; within.

it’s not my fault
you dreamt me so;
with weight unfelt in this world,
but i am only a feather.

We are free to be
if we only freed ourselves to be,
We are no different
if only we freed ourselves to be.

To give you the world,
would be no better than a cage,
for a lovely soul,
such as your self.

It’s true what they say,
for the freedom that you love,
can so easily,
be taken away.

The radiant gold,
and beautiful hues,
warm, tingling scents,
are of home.

But to bottle you up,
for selfish’s sake,
would only do both of us harm.

How unfortunate it is,
my love for you,
takes such drastic measures,

and if i don’t walk away,
i cannot guarantee ,
our happiness for all of eternity.

Perhaps you will flutter,
your lovely little wings,
in the direction of mine,
one day.

And i will consider myself lucky,
for knowing you as you are,
when you knew you,
were where you wanted to be.

Please sing me a song,
on that glorious day,
one of conflict and of resolution.

As your lips whisper,
our ears they will tickle,
and our hearts can lay down peacefully,
and die.

I woke up today,
without a name,
i have a face,
but it is not mine,
at least it was not.

All i know ,
is how to breathe,
deeply and fully,
expiring,
consciously as well.

What else is there,
for someone who knows,
how to do nothing,
better than any other?

i woke up today,
with a beautiful view,
of nothing,
turning into nothing,
and everything,
in between.

all i know,
is every beginning’s end,
and all the ends’ start,
does not happen;
here at least.

Might have a whiskey,
Might have a water,
Might make amends,
Might make a slaughter.