in my mind, it was always
a perfect ten
below zero, just cold enough
for me to shiver
and for your nose to turn a rosy pink
and for me to hide a dark thought
behind warm words, excused
by the curtain of soft snow
falling around us

i guess i overplayed this scene
i guess i cut and stripped it
set music to our footsteps
and played it up, all romantic angles
and close-up frames
hovering too long
over your awkward, shifting smile

i guess it wasn't really musical
no artsy, black-and-white short film
not even worth the imagery
that i gave it in each long piece of poetry
just worth enough
for me to hum along
when i hear the song
that i put to the scene, hoping
you'd recognize the tune

here in the cutting-room of my heart
i gave up
sat down on the floor, scattered images
floating down
and i grabbed my scissors
cutting each one into a snowflake
before it hit the ground
trying to recreate that scene
the way i remembered it
and in the darkness, i could ignore
the desperate feeling
of an imagination run too wild

i guess i overplayed this tune
but sometimes
when the words don't come easily
to my real-time writing, i am forced
to look backwards in time and space
across mountains of disgraced, forgotten things
back to a time
when all i could write about was you

after moving
shifting bodies, from here
to there
and back again
after seeing the time zones
float past my tired eyes
out the window of an airplane
new year's just isn't the same
january arrives in the future
and i am stuck, held back
in the past
waiting another three hours
for the clock to tick past twelve
so i can feel in time
with the rest of the world
i guess it's just a young cynic's view
on the big picture
but just the same, i give in
and every year i make my list
although lately, it's been in my head
and the lineup of wishes
gets shorter every time
and i arrived at the end of this december
with only three resolutions in mind

one
to find myself
to look past all those outward words
and blurred reflections
and improbable emotions
and find my inner demons
identify their faces
line them up like dominoes
shake their hands
and become friends

two
to know myself
to listen to my lines
as they trail off into cold air
to see through the bones in my body
and find the skeleton in my closet
so i can finally put him to rest
beneath my feet
to understand my own thoughts
and to read my own writing
and to listen harder
when i try and speak up

three
to love myself
as crafted as that sounds
this goal resounds within me
every time i catch my own eyes
and look away

it's just a young cynic's view
i know that, yes
but i like to think
that the simplest, oldest dreams
to find myself
to know myself
to love myself
are the ones i should hope to achieve
and as the clock bends time and space
and i am pulled forward
by my beating heart
i swear
to take that very first step
and finally know its weight

You think you know me.
I think I know you.
We know nothing
As we move forward
Slouched in our office chairs of despair
Some moving full throttle, the others stay still
Still
All in the same place
All at the same level
The illusion of movement
Competitiveness run amok and awry
An experiment gone wrong
An experiment in our endless longing, our search
Our eventual journey
As we seek greatness and perfection
While shattering the thought of it.

We have been taught to question
Questions bring greatness
Greatness is what we long for

Greatness has been subjugated
No longer an aspiration, but a trade
Not a product of inspiration
But a product of greed

Art is dead
Love is dead
All is dead

What once was an abstract concept
Is now concrete
And invisible
Nothing
A black hole
Constructed from the shattered hopes and dreams
Of millenials and those who felt like we do throughout history

What does "millenial" mean anyway?
In every context it encapsulates
Consumerism
Greed
Selfishness
Hypocrisy

Art is dead
Love is dead
All is dead
And we killed it

We dealt the death blow.

We lack heart
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with greatness
Greatness comes from accomplishments
Accomplishments come from knowledge
Knowledge comes from aspiration
Aspiration comes from inspiration
Inspiration...
comes from the metaphysical heart

The hollow men had no soul
and neither do we

We lean together
We do not embrace
We do not take the next steps
Only leaning
We lack what we need to see it through

We are incapable of maintaining relationships.
For our stamina is gone
In its place, divorce, infidelity,
shallowness
relationships based on looks and dreams
dreams of perfection
based on the wrong definition

We are the hollow men

We are hollow
We are... despairing

Despair
why would we despair?
if we did not care?
are we then hollow?
if we worry,
is that not out of concern?
is concern
not out of love?
does love...
not stem from the heart?

Sometimes I wonder
Can you still have a heart
If you have a mind in the way?

you spend forever searching for who you should be
that uphill climb to self awareness and understanding
once you hit the top of that mountain
it is nothing
nothing like you imagined yourself to be
you still feel empty
unsure if you took the wrong climb
too late to look down now
at what was, and those
what could have beens are too far away
after feeling that emptiness there is always a path forward
maybe its a flat plateau
maybe another mountain
but there is no dead end
keep going
you will find your meaning
and you will know when
because it will be beautiful.

I sit here
and see those all those lost eyes.
lonely souls passing by.
There is no connection
just an infection
that gives us tension.
We are lost in the complexity
of this multi-media society
too much variety.
what will save us?
bring us back to the hush
For we need to stop..
smell the fresh air
see the leaves everywhere
because nothing can compare
to the hush
of slow
****** nature.

i have to search my heart time and time again
for the love i once had for you

amidst the constant drowning of fear, hatred, and deafening words
the silence of life swallows every ounce of love i could conjure

i dig deeper until my hands are numb
thinking that if i found a piece of the memories that were
joyous, patient, and true
that maybe it will bring me back to you

the you i once loved
but searching for that now
i can see no more
the empty canvas where love should be painted
leaves me nothing anymore

Took one step into his lonesome world.

The clouds there were peculiarly pixelated in a forgettable shade of #999999
Digitally coded water vapor condensing into dense bubbles of thought
They resembled puzzle pieces childishly misplaced
Naivety was finger-painted along the lining and edges
While other bits played a quiet game that seemed to find them wanting

I did wonder where he hid them
Or if it was someone else who ran away
Who stole the stars in his sky?
Who stole the light in his pocket?

Took another step into his lonesome world.

The wind there had a dance of it's own that seemed to trace a pattern
Oscillating at a rate of 15Hz was a low frequency partner-less sway
Similar to eyelids confused and batting their lashes
Or wiper blades clearing tears off cars during a storm
Occurring without much thought was the drizzle with each wave

I did wonder why he danced alone
Or was it someone else who simply walked off
Who turned his sky on?
Who turned his lights off?

Took a breath standing in the center of his lonesome world.

I looked up and to my surprise found the eye of his mind
Staring back at me from those ***** clouds
It was the reason to all being and the wind was it's doing
Rising high up from an endless undisturbed nap

It was;

Brighter than the Sun itself
  Bursting citrus with each blink
Bleeding pulp over my skin
  Burning like acid on my own wounds
Delightful heat dripping off my tongue
   Psychedelic spirals twisting my limbs

    And
       i danced and spun
    And
       i lost and won

Please find me somewhere in those broken memories of yours

The winter gleam of the sun
off the snow, gray clouds dulling
the sparkle, shined through your window
onto my pale cheek at nine in the morning.
You were laying down as I sat up on your bed
trying not to lean back onto your feet.
Your black hair stood up on one side,
a giant curl falling just above your eyebrow,
and your thick lips parted just enough
to let out a small breaths that smelled like
stale beer and a ****** memory.
I pulled my feet up on the metal ledge
that supported your bed,
resting my elbows on my knees
so my hands could cradle my chin.

I pushed back my hair as I saw you move
out of my sideways look,
you rolled on your back, arms above your head
a false halo made of your hands,
baring your scruffy chest and chubby waistline.

I played with the corner of your sheets,
folding the flap up and back,
your snore my metronome one beat off
of my heart.

You took a big part of me and I'm sitting here
scanning your room trying to see if you
stashed it in a corner or if you hid it
somewhere I can't see.
You took a big part of me.