Are you a book?
Cause you're a
Romance.
Mystery.
Fantasy.
You make me turn the next page of you.
You make me smile in every words of you.
Mostly,
You make me fall in love with you.

But,
Are you a fiction?
Cause you're
Too good to be true.
Too hard to reach you.
Too impossible to find you.

Nevertheless,
I am always here to read you.

In the year 2015,
instantaneous expectations
condition behaviors exponentially
that veteran social media robots
efficiently reduce their average
characters in texts and posts
as often as the characters
who exist in their memoirs.

The corner house
Has three missing fence planks,
So the boys got their short-cut
Across the front lawn.
It was three a.m.,
I saw them, I yelled from the window,
Hey guys. Stop that!
They tossed their cans onto the asphalt.
Her bedroom light came on;
They were the night.
I heard their hurried pace,
Their laughter like warning fog horn blasts.

Butch's mother next door died.
It was a year before I knew.
I thought she went to Florida.
I pictured her sitting in the sun.
But she was gone.
Butch shovels snow,
Obsessively.
That's what I know.

The doobie brothers
Live next to the cop.
Their driveway's a busy spot with comings,
And goings.
But the cop's part of our hood,
Disrection's understood.
Besides,
Officer Bob has his troubles to tend to.

Then there's small Mary,
She lives two doors down.
She has to be over a hundred,
Once lived on a farm.
She rakes debris with her hands,
Bent over for hours,
Cleaning her lawn.
     (Butch shovels her walkway,
     but stays to himself)
I've waved to Mary
When she's out and about.
Good to see you, I shout.
Nice to be seen, she replies.
No doubt.

As I walk
the words of those that never existed
echo inside of my mind

I have learned
that you don't have to share each other's blood
to be the closest brothers

I can hear
thousands of voices swelling up inside
each begging for just one chance

I can see
every one of those smiling faces
that I've never laid eyes upon

Now I know
I'm friends with those that never existed
those that I have never met

I have fought
hundreds of battles with nary a scratch
but been mortally wounded

For I am
A warrior, a queen, a servant, a child,
a mere bystander

Because I
Have a library inside of my head
of all that I read

If dreams can only be true,
Then in my life I can have you.
If dreams can be so real,
Then it’s your love I can feel.

I can see you face to face,
In any time at any place.
I can always be with you,
And prove what I feel for you is true.

You’ll never be a character in a book,
For which I am very hooked.
You’ll never be in my imaginations,
But a part of the real world’s situation.

I can touch your face with my fingertips,
And I can kiss your lovely lips.
I can be a heroine in your life,
And save you from sorrows and strife.

If only you can leap through the books’ pages,
And have life to the end of ages.
If only you live in reality,
Then I am able to erase my fantasies.

I can wait ‘till the ends of time,
Until this poem runs out of rhyme.
I can love you forever,
Like the song The 12th of Never.

But all I can do is dream,
Dream ‘till the fire runs out of gleam.
Until my life here is longer no more,
I am sure you will always be staying in a bookstore.

Listen to me people
I'll take you on a journey
To places far away
Hold on tight and listen
From my mind
To yours today

Places of adventure
With people intertwined
With stories
And great places
That come from in my mind

some say  I am a prophet
I'm a storyteller too
Open up your mind to me
That's all you have to do
I will take you from the present
To the past and farther on
I am the storyteller
Close your eyes, and please hold on

Characters of fiction
Places that are real
Melt them both together
Tell me how you feel

Mixing words and music
In a portrait in your mind
Listen to the colours
As the words and music bind

some say I am a prophet
I'm a storyteller too
Open up your mind to me
That's all you have to do
I will take you from the present
To the past and farther on
I am the storyteller
Close your eyes, and please hold on

Dance to what you're hearing
Relax and float away
Listen to the story
Your're here, so now let's play

Combine the words and pictures
With the music and you'll see
The storyteller's story
And The Story Teller's me

some say  I am a prophet
I'm a storyteller too
Open up your mind to me
That's all you have to do
I will take you from the present
To the past and farther on
I am the storyteller
Close your eyes, and please hold on

He's not there and he never was.
I already realised but I'm realising again.
Now it's making it like he's really not here,
But he never was.
And it hurts.
But it shouldn't,
Because none of this was real.
Because it's not real.
I don't feel I can go there.
But not going there,
Leaves me with nowhere to go.
And no one even though I have many.

I stole the relic they did not sell and
Invented a future for them to pretend,
Their decorated intelligence perhaps
Made a habit of wandering with the-
Stories I created, I travelled with them.
I lived in stories, with the characters,
Their adolescence & lovers and their
Whimsical tales drowned my nerves,
I don’t know how pitiful it is to live
With lifeless fonts and their charisma
I did not click pictures of their realism,
I wanted them in all ages with more
Stories, imperfections & inadequacies,
They’ll all disappear or die someday
And I guess life wouldn’t be like stories.

have no love for characters
that don't yet exist

stains clamour over tea cup lip
bubbles cling to the walls,
produced from sitting overnight