I have this subtle "feeling' constantly,
or maybe its an ache or emotion,
that everything is going terribly,
and if it isn't, the it will be eventually,

I have the lingering pit in my stomach,
its trying to earn me,
telling me that its all going to plummet,
and there's a reminder every step I tread,
filling my head with the same reiterating dread,

some days I find comfort in this 'feeling',
it keeps me realistic,
but I don't want to keep concealing,
concealing and dealing this this useless perception,
I want to be optimistic, artistic,
not floating in this sense of fear and apprehension.

but remember its not all bad.

Whenever I look down upon her beauty
a great sense of calm washes over me.
The smell of salty sea-air
I know that I will be okay
I can feel the wind in my hair, lifting my locks up high.
And that tingling buzz of excitement I gets in the bottom of my stomach
The sound of waves crashing against stone
Is this what it’s like? To be so enamored that one can’t help but close their eyes, and surrender?

The moment passes and her evanescence begins to fade
My gaze looks upward to the sky
An ocean of clouds with little lights seeping through the cracks
I reach out and grab a sunbeam

hate
love
****
save
suffer
heal
empathy
resent
torn apart,
the reality
of everything I had in my heart.

Coins clink and that quickly
her mindless heart bats between
bright colors and moving lights—
pinging with bonus points
for kindness and understanding;
slingshots for extra lives
each time she feels something
and means it.

He’s not used to having a
playfield quite like this.
She makes this exciting;
a fifty-cent thrill that
he can afford to entertain
as long as he cares to.

/Insert./Launch./Flip./
Under glass, she’s untouchable—
unstoppable—
a stainless force that earns him
the high score he’s always
dreamed of having.
His string of numbers
lit in the back of.
He’s done it; he’s done.

She watches his hands drop
from the sides.
Music stops.
Bulbs dim.
Glass goes dark.
She falls again—
this time
with nothing to
catch her.

She waits; she hates
begging for the sound
of that coin to drop
one more time.

I used to think I kept you like a secret.

Is it a secret if no one knows it’s being kept?
Maybe I’ll never know, but
if I did have the chops to say it out loud,
I’d tell them that
I have dreams about that plane ride.
I’d take the 6AM flight just so
the colors of the sunrise would
chase me for a thousand miles.

I’d sip my hot coffee
with too much cream at
my window seat and
make small talk with
the older woman seated beside me.
She has a kind face and
takes this flight often to visit her
son and his family.
(He relocated for work,
but couldn’t pass up the salary.)
She’d ask if I’m coming or going.
“I’m not sure yet,” I’d reply, and
offer to buy her a drink,
as I revel in and relive
every crumb of our story with her.
It’s a good one, I think.
(And she thinks so too.)
She places her hand on mine, and,
with the sincerest of smiles,
wishes me well on my adventure.

She’s always there, and I like her.

I dream that baggage claim is
a ghost town, but I
recognize your eyes beyond the carousel
before I recognize my own blue suitcase.
Sometimes you have flowers in your hand,
but you always have a hug.

There’s excitement and understanding in it—
a relief that teeters on tears
and lips that waited for so long
to whisper, “Finally.”
And I feel so safe and found.
I’m at home
in a place I’ve never been before—
in arms that have never held me.

My blue suitcase— still circling.

I laugh, and I can’t wait to tell you
that I dream of you in color.
I quickly give you instructions
on how to find me again
in case we get lost.
I tell you dream flights are cheaper
if you’re in bed before 9PM.
I don’t know if you hear me,
but before I can ask,
I’m awake.

I’m alone.

You’re my secret again.
The secret I’ve never told.
BWI direct to XNA.

In this world,
out there in open,
many things appear to be broken.

In this world, when it’s the darkest,
I find myself restless and breathless,
running back to the nest,
never safe, but where it’s best.

In this world, if ever so bright,
let there be a ray of light,
a new life, a new sprout,
let it, oh please, be found.

A long-held dream
regrettably, it’s not all what it seems.

A promise made, a secret kept,
where silence is never to be seen again.

A reckless risk, a mighty wish,
blowing back and forth in a sweet breeze.

In this world, despair’s the ruler.
You’ll never hear of anything much crueler.

So here we are left,
There’s no one to blame,
nothing to tame,
it can’t be defeated,
it can’t be helped,
just another feature of a daily hell.

In this world, an old decree,
we’re all doomed to such degree,
beyond salvation,
without a nation.

In this world,
we are not who we are meant to be,
we die at the beginning,
we live at the end.

In this world,
the end’s the matter,
and no one cares about the means.

In this world, I cannot live.
For I’ve decided to end,
and I’ve refused to begin.