... as I was saying...
I'm sure you're just not listening.

It was late November in Los Angeles,
back when it still used to rain.
In that old apartment in which everything felt
filtered yellow, like coffee stained teeth.
The walls, like you, were too thin;
at times I could hear your neighbor crying.

We used to drink, and head up to the rooftop,
where we would smoke too many cigarettes
and loudly declare our love.
Our aesthetic was broke and romantic.
Drunkenly admiring one another like
we admired the city
by romanticizing it's flawed demeanor.

"...don't you remember me babe,
I remember you quite well..."
I sang to you while I ran my cold fingers
through your soft waves.
You hated Dylan but joked
that I nailed it, and
began warm my hands with your breath.

If you asked me to tell
where the ceiling ends and
the walls begin,
I wouldn’t be able to tell you.
When I think about you
everything blurs into black
like an unkindness of ravens.
And I—
You are
the only thing that ever
crosses my mind as soon as
dusk turns into night,
and I could never tell you why.
I like to think that
just as birds know when to fly
and time knows when to die,
I was meant to love you.

Altogether on the boat.
The waves stood tall.
Not enough space on the boat to hold them all.

25 migrants promised new lives.
They left behind their children.
They left behind their wives.

The dream of prosperity.
The men set sail.
Turned into a nightmare did this sad and sorry tale.

5 died of hunger, 6 of dehydration.
A woeful situation.
No plan B or mitigation.

The men laid to rest at the bottom of the sea.
These were normal people like you and like me.

Looking for a better life.
It's all so terribly sad.
A wife missing her husband.
A child missing his dad.

The only ones to gain are the ones who sold the dream.
The ones who take blood money are never what they seem.

They take the hard earned cash from men who Want a better way of life. They care little for their children and care nothing for their wives.

You are the music you listen to.
You are the books you read.
You are the people you meet and the friends you keep.
You are the energy you welcome into your life.

Embrace the world around you.

If money was not an object to be desired,
would you still do the things you do?
Or would you change the music,
dare to read something new,
challenge the impossible,
cross the lines and break the rules?

Look in the mirror and never stop asking,
who are you?