My philosophy professor posed a question:

Mary, an expert in color—

The way light bends through rods and cones and the use of electromagnetic radiation—

Is blind to it, unable to even imagine the beauty

Of your sea foam eyes,

Rose petal lips. 

Does she, knowing every fact, every formula,

Truly know color? 
It got me thinking,

(I guess that’s the purpose of philosophy)

Did I really love you?

My gaze is a reflection of the horizon:
Ever unending,
Obscure,
Teeming with anticipation.
This taste of bitter sweet tang
Which we all hoped for to end
But never wished to pass
Reminds me that we are free
Uncontrollable
Fragile.
Yet we pretend we are otherwise
For that we feel stronger.
Neglecting our flaws
Insisting a blanket of perfection.
But you are you
I am me
We are we
And your edges create your wholeness.
Do not be scared, child
Because we all are.
Have courage and be proud.
That’s how you wield your dagger.

Her emotions are like the tides of the Earth
But so are mine.
Too many guys want to help and utter these words: *"i wish she was mine"

Lost in the lullabies, stories told to sweeten
Life's sour aftertaste from which we all have weakened.
We are the storytellers, weaving webs of lore
Made to be our weight bearers when we can bear no more.
This world is just a story; This life: fictitious folly.
No rights.  No wrongs.  No this or that. Just tales to keep us jolly.

Jack just had a big fight with his son Zach about it. He said
I'm tired of hearing how you're too tired to do your homework.
      You're
not too tired to play basketball or Xbox. That was that after Zach said
Whatever.
                   Visiting the nursing home you think Never
will I allow myself to live long enough to end like that, that's
a fact. But promises are broken all the time, to others and the self,
and that one probably will be too unless your face is shattered
into shards of broken glass, by accident.
                                                       ­          Then it will be quiet, too quiet.
Day by day goes by until the day you receive news of your disease,
personal, unique, irrevocable, musical and factual, withal.
That's that you think but in fact it's not. You discover (circle with a dot)
      dying's
much like living. That that's true until the body just stops barking,
      breathing.
Forever.
                Salvation in the details (sub-atomic particles). Granite
or sandstone, ash or oak, Odysseus or King Lear. Get it? Not yet.
For someone who doesn't want to be anonymous, Jack's anonymity
      runs deep.
His work sunk in a tar pit or peat. The worthwhile effort is to meditate on
      that,
accept and repeat.

a lot of my religious friends try to explain to me what god feels like.
They often tell me something along the lines of.
"It's like the love he offers is just so big that it overwhelms you."
or
"it's like he is so understanding and comforting that you just feel completely loved."

I never really got it before I was broken.
I'm still not religious.
But when I think about how I feel about woman, it's very similar.

It's not that I fall in love with one woman.
or that I fall in love with a whole bunch of woman.

It's more like there is so much love coming from every single woman as a whole.
that it just is an all encompassing cloud of feeling less lonely.

so I flirt.
I flirt with every single woman.
sometimes they flirt back.
every healthy word sounding like another warm pair of hands on my shoulders.

I legitimately fall in love at first sight with millions of people.

I'm lonely.
need the touch,
company.
words.

When I say I need you, or I love you,
I mean it.

When I don't say it
I mean it too.
just think you'll leave if you find out.

But
I'd rather be on a porch drinking a beer with friends, then alone in my bed sexting some tinder match from new hampshire.

I'm not doing this for the ***.
don't care at all about the ***.
I just wanna be next to someone.
So when people say they beleive in god,
I understand them in my own way.
They just don't wanna be lonely.
I pray to woman all day long.
worship their bodies like alters.
Woman are this glowing cloud of comfort.

So when one says she wants me to be with me forever.
To be my True religion.
It sounds like I touched God.