There are times when the pain is too much.
There are times when we would do anything for a way out.
When we would drown ourselves
in the middle of a drought just so we
wouldn't have to be thirsty again.
We sometimes have to remind ourselves
that we are not alone.
Not yet.

There are times when I bet my soul on three lies told.
And even though I won,
I was payed back in fool's gold.
We grow up never thinking that 'up' means old.
We are not alone
and our paths have been walked before.
What is left in store for us
as we ride this tour bus to hell
is the burnt-out car frames of those
who didn't do quite as well

Father Time continues to soldier ever forth
and sometimes what we want is south
and what we need is north.
But I'm telling you that if you think
that you are the first, you are not.
You came from the smallest dot and now
you are a monument to those who came before.
You are a masterpiece created beyond compare,
built in the image of those who's blood you share.
Those who care in a way no one else ever will.

So next time you are in pain, remember,
you are not a waste.
You are an imprint left by two people
that will one day longer be here.
As the seasons change, realize,
there will soon be a year when
our fathers will die.
When we will be made to walk on our own
without knowing why.

So when the ground starts to eat at you,
pulling you down with a force so strong
that you don't even try to fight it,
let your monuments stand and know that they are not alone.
Because we all must return to the earth,
in one form or another.
So honor them while you still have them,
be they your Father
or your Mother.

Your eyes say everything that you're too embarrassed to say.
They tell me that today is nothing but a fleeting moment
and that every second spent thinking but not acting
will tally up to a waste of time until we have nothing left.
That every tick-tock of the clock
makes up the lock that shackles all the things we could be
we could be in love, you and me.

And this isn't the first time I've felt myself falling
without my consent, but you've made a dent
in my heart where you hit me.
I won't flee from the truth,
I've had other lovers in the past.
But right now my heart is beating so fast
and it crosses itself when it swears that this
feels like first love.
That each breath I breathe is taken by your beauty
and every time you kiss me it leaves stars behind my eyelids.

Your gaze roots me to the spot
when you look at me the way you do.
You say everything without making a sound
and I fall right through what I had believed to be the ground
but was just keeping me from falling for you.
And I gotta say it one more time,
I'm falling for you.
I hope I never hit the ground.
Never have to hear missed opportunities
resound through the air,
I don't give a care if it'll hurt me in the end.
The end is far ahead and we're right here,
don't doubt me, love me instead.
Come here, I'll hold you in my arms and
make you believe I'm never letting you go.
So even though I will eventually, it won't be because I wanted to.

If I ever have wanted to go slowly in my life,
it would be now because I want time to stand still for us.
I don't normally go slow and I know that we shouldn't now
because we both know we don't have forever.
I don't want a wake-up call because
I don't want to be awakened from the freefall
that is this bliss - I've been waiting for this
ever since I landed last and
I'm letting the past be past me,
so I can enjoy that I've found the needle in the haystack at last.
Turns out it's always in the last place you look.

Maybe they've been there all along.
Maybe you'll be wrong about who it is
the first couple of times but when you are right,
you know it and let me tell you, I was right when I saw you.
I never made the decision to fall in love with you,
assuming thats what this is,
but you never should make the decision.
Love should fall upon you like a hail of arrows.
Because when push comes to shove I realize that it was
never my choice to begin with.

When I look at you
and I do that a lot ,
I'm always trying to paint your picture in my mind.
I can do this pretty well normally, but for you,
I don't stop at just one.
I paint your picture a hundred times because
I never want to forget you.
I want to be the glue that holds you together
when **** gets tough,
I want to be the wind in your sails
when the seas get rough
and I want to be there to act,
when words aren't enough.

So here we are, falling together.
Who knows when we'll hit the ground
but until then let's just let gravity do it's work and..
see how this goes.

I can see you here. I can see your chest rise and fall when you breath,
but you comprise of all the things that I associate with heaven.
You keep me up at night well past eleven
thinking that in a perfect world you might see me the way I see you.
I've chased your idea through fields and mountain passes,
pursued your thought down Lonely Street and Solitary Avenue.
I have realized that in this world, sometimes
the only reason people run away, is because they want someone to follow.
But I hope that if you ever felt like running,
that your final destination would be my open arms
because they've been outstretched so long that
people are starting to use them to hang clothes on.

I walk about this world with my heart on my sleeve and because of that
I've sometimes accidentally left in in the washing machine.
That's not to say that I don't sometimes feel like the crooked house
resting itself on the newer one.
Sometimes we all just need to lean-to.
You must understand that when I say 'love',
I mean you.

If we are all done crying now,
if we can borrow the courage to keep our sorrow
waiting just until tomorrow,
than we can survive this day alone.
If we can atone for every sin that we didn't commit
than we can permit the past to finally pass
and let the grass we stand on grow up from between our toes
because we know where we stand now.
And forget the who, what, why and how
because we are where we are
and where we are is the place we need to be.
So if you see another idea, don't give up yet.
You'd better ride and chase that b** into the sunset!

Is it just a loose porch board
that creaks just outside my door?
Is it just the howling wind
that creaks outside and nothing more?

Can I trust these sweat-soaked sheets
to keep a midnight prowler at bay?
Can I trust my frozen feet
to safely carry me away?

Is my room, cloaked in gloom,
inhabited by solely me?
Light, I assume, would only exhume
the tenants of my dirtless tomb.

I shall not be prey, I then decide,
I shall not fall to just any beast!
I'm not a feast... not their's at least...
The worms... perhaps, but them I don't mind.

"You're not getting me!" I scream,
I grab the the gun and run to the shed.
I turn and bolt the door and my hands
shake as I load an ounce of lead.

"I'm not yours to have!" I cry
My vision now becoming blurred
click
"It is I who shall have the final word!"

Throughout an empty forest, a single shot is heard.

Once upon a time, a man once said aloud for all to hear:
"There is no need for poetry."
Once upon a time, he was right.
When the darkest nights fall upon us
like a barrage of arrows
we would rather just survive.
We strive to one day have a future
where there is no doubt, but
until that last creative ember in our souls is
snuffed out, we will have a need for poetry.

Because what are these words if not
just scrap paper floating on the breeze?
What is this idea if not
just one seed among a million trees?
What is this level of depth
when measured to the deepest seas?
We live in a society where wit is defined
by how well you can put someone down...
A society where smiles/frowns,
whichever it is, they are just masks.
Hiding who we truly are.
Each one of us is a star,
some brighter than others,
but each of us beautiful and powerful in our own right
and in spite of our differences.

On many a night
I would have extinguished my own flame
just to be able to name myself a martyr.
A martyr who died fighting his demons
and whether or not I will ever win,
I'll always be aware of it's futility.
But, you see, it's never like I ever had false visions
of putting this to rest.
It never was a battle between 'good' and 'bad'...
only shades of better or worse.

And yet we would stuff our one hope
against this darkness into a funeral hearse
and wave it on it's way.
With not even a hint of dismay,
I ask you all,
is there any need for poetry?

Up here, I feel like I can open up my soul to you.
Show you who I really am.
Through each word and pause
I have encurred the awes of people
I never thought could appreciate me.
So let us let this tragedy unfold.
Who knows what the future could hold...
or what it could let go.

You aren't the first to walk these roads.
These lonely, gravel trails  covered in broken glass and nails.
Every time a rickety car breaks down and fails
it leaves it's wreck along the side of highway,
just watching the traffic pass them by.
They are monuments to every effort we have made and given up on.
They are why you MUST try.

Whether you live in a town or a city,
there are going to be some pretty ****** moments in life.
It takes a lot of strife to get a small amount of satisfaction
but the chain reaction
of doubts and down 'n' outs
is drowned out by the radio static and
I don't mean to sound dramatic but
I understand.

I just want you to know
you're not going to go on your own this time.
Every moment spent crying is time that could better spent trying.
If I told you I don't have these moments,
well, I'd be lying.
Because I've felt the color drain from my face
as I try to remember the last place I left my courage
because it's not at arm's reach this time.
Sneers and eyerolls draw spirals around me
like I'm at ground zero of an M.C Escher painting.

I can rephrase suffering so many ways.
But at this pace, I still can't outrun my own thoughts.
I find my courage at last
but there is no sticking place to ***** it to,
so I just say "***** it."
I can't say I knew it would end this way,
but if all this poem comes down to
is a whiny teenager trying to be edgy
than I guess I...

You.
Who ARE you?
You, who I have dreamed of many a night,
who has always given flight to my imaginations
and fancies.
My aspirations of an angel...
but you are lost down the wishing well.

Evanescent in form,
but always representing the same thing.
What are you?
You
are perfect.
The woman in/of my dreams,
who it seems I have never met
(...and never will).

Still... You haunt me
and taunt me with what I can never have.
So haunt me,
for I will never complain
about seeing your visage,
seared in boiled tears,
behind the lid of this eye...
...and the other.