There we go again me & my pen
teaming up together real late at night
deciding on how these thoughts I should write
the ink begins to leak just a little
as it slowly starts to trickle
out sentence after sentence I begin to scribble
Scratching words out & writing different ones
only to scratch out that & back to the original it goes
it just fit there better
& hopefully I don't forget a letter
it's just a rough draft, so whatever

Which story shall I expose
So everyone who reads this knows
how my life truly goes
it's better that all those reality shows
There's no directors or cameras that follow me
Although, if that was true, they'd have some great footage to look through
because there's just about nothing I don't do....
From late nights to road trips to see the other half of our crew
Memories we definitely make & not a **** thing we do, we fake
We give it 100 & not a single break
We never think twice & don't believe it't any kind of mistake

So my pen is excited every time I pick it up
it can't wait to write my latest story & who I attempted to corrupt
as it flows through my pages
telling about all the ages
& my crazy peace signing rampages
honestly me & my loves belong on movie stages
but that's just a thought I wanted to share, until it all changes
then my life will be up for some big rearranges

You won't ever truly, truly understand my stories you see
You can say you completely understand them but that's a lie, since you are not me
So I definitely know that can't be
my experiences only are understood by a few
the ones who were there with me & did it too
They know what we've been through
the memories we make, bring us together, you have no clue
the best of friends forever, tight together, a special bond, stronger then any glue
all because of trust & fun, plus all the **** we've done & STILL have to do
No one will ever change that, not even YOU!

So let my pen do it's work
& don't be a total ****
because when it's done, it's the notebook pages your eyes will lurk

For that split second I'll let you in my head
& you can see what I do & why I stay up instead
Now can you see why I don't always go to bed
So hopefully everyone will enjoy what they've read
& always remember me when I'm dead.....
Promise me, NOT ONE tear will be shed
just remember me for the words I said
& how I was such a great friend...
I did live happily ever after & have reached my end..

Eventually I will but right now I am just writing as if it has been years & years ahead
so just pretend
&  your imagination, for a moment, to me will you lend
If you want to make  sense out of my words, it is something I do highly recommend

AS WE THINK OF WHAT TO SAY NEXT.
                
                                    
…


The quality of this silence
   is as grand
      is as wonderful
         is as eternal

                                           is as everything

as the sudden crescendo
of a piano on the moon.


…


For words are useless
when it comes to such things.

HIM, LOOKING AT HER.


She is subtle.
A face hidden behind an iPad;
Only silent eyes are left-

they speak:

-my world is here.
i choose here, i hide here,
i like here.
see it shines?

-my world is here.
pictures picture pictures
the river my news feed;
a status a raindrop;

-my world is here.
and we are the cloud:
condensing, condensing, collapsing
relaxing, relaxing, relapsing

-my world is here.
so send me a message  here
don’t look at me…they're watching
     send me a message

please.

-my world is here.
i choose here, i like here,
i hide here.
so why…
    
...why do i keep looking at you?

outside.

MY BED PAST MIDNIGHT;
YOU ARE ASLEEP.


The presence of you,
next to me on my bed,
is gentle and existing;
ethereal as you are.

And,
soft as you are,
it is nothing deep,
nothing carnal.

And,
cold as we are,
in needing warmth:
we cuddle,

with
hair quietly tangling
in the background
of our bodies;

with
blood warmly murmuring
in the background
of our hearts;

with
our tired eyes talking,
when we’re silent;
saying things
they weren't supposed to say.

I know
that we’re online
in the pixels, of my screen,
and type to tell you
that I wish you were here;

that my bed is empty, despite me,
as it always was;
that you'll only see this message
when you wake up…


But


The presence of you,
next to me on my bed,
is gentle and existing;
ethereal as it is.

Night Lights.


At midnight her heart, a vulnerable spark,
looks for some warmth for fire.

There is something warm, warmer than herself;
something to keep her alight.

She speaks in shortcuts; '***!'s and 'LOL!'s,
and in pictures; smileys and stickers...

Hoping he will  love her quicker;
Hoping he will love her at all.

But at midnight a heart, vulnerable spark,
is tired of looking for fires.

There is nothing warm, warmer than herself;
nothing can keep her alight.

She'll fizzle and freeze into cold blue hues
and shortcuts and pictures will fade...

But he had just loved her slowly;
In hoping she'd love him at all.

CLASSROOMS.


When eyes meet, lifetimes flicker
into brief birth, in seconds.
They then disappear, switched off
fading from glow as they look away.

And those small daydreams,
memories and ghosts;
diffuse off, dead.
Like momentary winds or clouds
shadowing the sunlight, sweetly.

...or the times I should have
talked to you but didn't.

Instead we had then looked away.

ONE WEEK AT SCHOOL.


Its a Monday morning when
I'm still trying to make out with you.
It's about half a year earlier,
and we're both late for class.
But nobody's looking; nobody cares.

It's a Tuesday afternoon when
we're walking with other people.
It's a few months later,
and of no consequence any longer:
I've written everything I've needed to.

On a Wednesday evening your sister is now
asking me online why you cry into your pillow:
what were my intentions, what did I want.
I'm trying my best not to tell her,
that I really wish I knew.

It's a Thursday morning again
when I still tried to make out with you.
I see you walk but we're both sure I can't.
Soon enough, no one would have ever noticed,
that in these spaces we occupied anything at all.

Then it is Friday, late afternoon when
I call you to tell you I love you.
You don't say why you won't say it back-
I am suddenly too scared to ask.

So now I am writing
everything I've needed to.

AN INBOX.


I watched our brief memories shatter before my face,
          and wondered

About our inherent chaos and implicit shapelessness;
         crying now

Before me. I meet grey scars in your heart-broken eyes,
         cataracts,

Singing a siren’s song that drags me to drown with you-
        I hate you

For bringing me back…my head had just broken through your waters…
       I miss breathing…

                                      ...so, so much.

WAKING FROM EVERYDAY.

The chords of your laughter, unexpected,
echo from the clouds above me
and scatter
like fragile light; dancing
across the green tips of grateful trees.

Briefly, I shuddered. Behind the bricked wall
of the cemented dreams I have of us-
I had head your little song of life.
But now I am smiling.
Your fragile light has made me grateful

to see the world in colour.