My soul wears thin of the lies you have fed me with,
The setting sun brings certain melancholy into a life that has left me breathless.
Your heart beats with an unknown rhythm and without recognition.
I stare into the empty space of white between the lines on a blank page,
Even in it I seem to loose myself for the want of it.
I'd sleep like an angel, if sleep could want me, sunken eyes reveal my disguise,
For even the smile through my tears, do no justice,
And the hysterical laughs sear through my cover.
Its either hide in the dark, or hurt in the open,
Both ways, I can see you take pride in all that you have done to me.
As you watch me writhe and twist,
And break and fall,
Into nothing.

Who made them valedictorian,
those keepers of the word-banks,
more concerned with righteousness
than with the art
we oh so love,
pointing fingers
with a million pointing back.

And we,
we keepers of the faith,
writing words,
writing lines,
writing stanzas or not,
scribbling & scrawling
bits & pieces
of our fervent-hearts,
exposing ourselves
to the masses,
truly naked
for all ages,
for an eternity of readers,
feeding our souls
for those perusers
who might want to know
or forgot
what it is like
to live (again).

Like I f'ng said.
who made them valedictorian,
them f'ing poetry police.

I wish
we could drive
out to the middle
of nowhere  with
you and talk
under the stars

I live
In a
Glass house
But like throwing stones..

Do what you love,
not what you think you are "supposed to do."

Silence comforts me
in this early hour.

Here I lie
alone,
peeking through plate glass
at the beautiful
heavens above.

A million crystals
adorn the pitch,
twinkling subtle harmonies
& I wonder,
I wonder about you,
if you see the same summer skies,
if you have the same itch,
lying alone
in wonder.

O I feel
you,
your sweet power,
my love.

She lies
magnificently,
feminine poetry,
so beautiful
in snapshot.

I feel her every word,
fiery fingertips
swirling a tempest
& I am smitten,
yet so frustrated,
I cannot touch
her luscious lips.