He ran far enough to know
that in the end there was no end;
that at the edge was a turning point;
that the pavements simply bent.

He was the chaser of suns,
almost always on the run
one foot in front of the other
but the chase was almost done

For Time was chasing him as well,
behind his back, so close
and overhead were clouds that cursed
him for the life he chose.

And in the end there was no end,
but there was no chaser, too
and Time was left alone without
anybody to run to.

I chose to build a fortress
in the middle of the woods
and line along the edges
pillars of aged books.
Now why, you ask,
did I choose to build
a thing so odd,
what is it for?
So strange a thing
on the woodland floor.
You see, I have a plan
of shutting myself away
from the reality that is the world
and the sight of it decay.
Here in the safety
of letters and ink,
I can finally breath fresh air
and think.

sometimes i paint
sometimes i write
sometimes i do what i think i might
sometimes i play piano
sometimes i play guitar
sometimes i steal from the cookie jar
sometimes i dance
sometimes i sing
sometimes i try to do everything

yes, i am a jack of all trades--
master of none, but better than
a master of one.

When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask; but Patience to prevent  

That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."

watch me
as i undress;
pull off the sheets
of an ancient chest.
i give you now
the long lost key;
go on, my dear
and unlock me.

i know you seek
a work of art
but all you'll find
is a rusty heart
with rusty gears
that spin no more
yes, i'm broken
from the core.

"hold on," you say.
you hold my heart
and gently fix it
part by part,
then with such grace
you place it in;
working smooth
as how it's been
a billion years
before it failed;
before false love
my heart impaled.