Grinning at the memories
She left in my conscious mind
Like everything still seems present
The cherished times at her laughs
Left smiles of regret to take a chance

Through this road with music
Louder than the wilderness
Good Will Hunting final theme
I have to go see about a girl

The road longing as I accelerate
Take me to her heart once again
Make it my home in her forever
To return everyday and night

How do I find the missing parts of myself?
Do I need lots of help?
Or seek them in people I know?
Do I have to dig deep inside my unexplored soul?

I want to start finding,
Look for trails I left while walking.
I wish there was a map to follow,
For I have been quite hollow.

he raises his hand
raises his head
***** a gun
and turns a key
he's not quite sure what he's looking for
but he can't stay here any longer
can't keep screaming into the quiet
can't keep gasping for breath
way out in space
he ***** a gun
turns a key
and he inches forward
he's desperate to find it
but not so sure he wants to see it
he spots it there
centimeters through the veil
mirror twins
only he can't tell
which one in real
and which one is an illusion
on cold reflective glass
the girl and the faceless thing
the nameless thing and the hopeless thing
he ***** a gun
and turns a key
and he tilts his head
and breathes
only he's forgotten that he can't breathe
so he chokes
and they turn
the girl and the faceless thing
or maybe it's one thing
a faceless girl

Always strive deligently far within

Until you see that spark of trust again

"I was the same, but I was waiting for myself on the shore to return."  -   Murakami

 
It is a difficult time. So
You wait for yourself to come back.
You wait on the
Pier. Watch pelicans
Pirouette in the air; weightless

For a moment and then diving.
The sound of their splash reminding
You of something you just can’t quite
Remember. You sit there eating
Fish after fish, wash them

Down with beer. You have started
Counting seagulls and giving them
Long Spanish names. You choreograph
Ballets, make architectural
Drawings of dreams and have started

To build a home of sea shells. On
The weekends people come just to
See you waiting for yourself. “Where
Did you go?” they ask, you just shrug
Your shoulders. You make new friends.

You take up painting and paint self
Portraits, your image repeated
Like the latitude and longitude
Lines on a map. Early every
Morning you lean against the railing.

The seagulls have joined you. You’ve made
Them tiny red scarves that they
All wear. All of you stare, being
Still as glass as if any movement
Might blur vision. All of you are

Staring out to sea, straining to
See you coming back, straining to

See the prow of the boat cutting
The silver morning water.

Hallmark cards on a row
A multitude of emotion

In the depth of her eye there is a city that begs to be explored.
A spark of curiosity hidden beneath the patter of millions of feet.

The journey of how one step, leads into a million thoughts.
Each person a developing personality all of her own.
Time has no meaning here.
There is no swiftness, no haste where anyone has a deadline to meet.
A specific place to be.

The pounding of feet hitting the pavement.

The sound of her heart.

With lips soft and gentle.

It goes unseen.

This city that hides in the spark of her eye.

This gleam of  light flickering in the skyline.

The view is just amazing.

There is never a wrong time to come out and enjoy the view.

The people here are amazing.

They always welcome me with a warm smile and a place to sit.

A metropolis full of fashion, living and breathing.

What I love most.

Is that I always feel like I am at home.

Whenever I stop by for a visit