following your heart as if a flight of birds were the only trace of memory of something that was amiss (you)
but something taught in fairytales how wronged it is
how wronged the feeling of what was supposedly fate
some bitter sweet written fairytale without an ending in sight
this dilemma i must face does indeed bring me disgrace
and I’m sorry
horribly sorry
maybe i’ve got a hole in my head where everything waterfalls in and drips out slowly
taking
its
own
sweet
time

fruit tea in hand i am exposed to the wilderness of the light misplaced in the night
taking shelter in some temporary cafe soon to be gone
just by a few months
like us, most probably

mixture of emotions i can’t quite comprehend
nonetheless the hues and tones all blended together like lemon juice
makes the palette very sour
like the taste buds of your tongue when you snap at me
and i  don’t put up a fight
words take flight before tomorrow even makes its stand

the sun washes and spills like watercolour
and i’m alone in this coffee shop just off the road







maybe the concept of love is unbelievably hard for someone like me to grasp
so eager to fall so quick to lose the game
when all i’ve ever seen is the quick glimpse of love on my broken television screen
static and all
the path chosen in the path to go
the only picture i’ve ever had of this mystical thing was from a blind artist
so beautiful in his work and yet everything’s nearly see through

boy with his dozens of crowns
nose in the air
the beautiful boy i love.

though i’d like to crush glass bottles with my palms
boy with words of ecstasy, vibrant as  peacocks
electric blue
but i’m not a poet of love of any kind.

Be proud to be with me, kiss me in public, hold my hand, show me off too your friends, take interest in what I enjoy, listen to me rant just to hear my voice, sit and watch the stars with me, be proud of me, and I’ll be proud of you…love me, and I’ll love you

It brings my heart so much pain
when she passes through my brain.­
So badly I want this dame,
but everyday’s still the same.
Even t­hough I try to change
to keep no shame in my game,
she keeps on s­witching lanes,
which is driving me insane.
When at me her smile ­aims
it just hits me like a train.
My composure's harder to retai­n,
getting me higher than a plane.
She might think I'm strange
an­d I might be out of her range,
and some may even claim
that my ef­forts are in vain,
but as long as she says my name
in my mind she­'ll remain.
From her I can't abstain,
which is kind of hard to ex­plain.
To the wall she has me chained.
She has this beast tamed.
­My love for her I'd exclaim
from Spain, then back to Spain.
Whene­ver too much I entertain
and start to become drained
she is my su­pport cane,
helps to keep me sustained.
Though this world's full ­of rain
she's my light through the pane.
Once she knows my love s­he's gained
in her life she'll be glad I came.

i find myself assuming the role
of quiet observer, looking around
discreetly, and with more interest
than i let on, i am transfixed
by the simplicity with which complications arise
between crooked pathways
and straight lines
of people, walking around
interacting on levels that confound me
and it makes me feel like an island
yet uncharted
sand untouched, bare of footprints
and most of the time, i like it
the feeling of being clean
unsullied by those complications
and i sit on my shore, watching the ragged ships
sail by
and the gulls circle, crying out
why?
why do we do these things to ourselves?
why do we hide the truth
and perform the lies?

sometimes, i assume the role
of confidant, of living journal
and i describe the weight of the words dropped on my pages
to nobody, because
it really isn't my place
to trivialize darknesses other than my own
and i understand, i do
but i feel lost, some days
among the black holes of people
who cannot escape their own space
their own star-flecked universes
and their planets crash into mine
Milky Way swerving out of the path of destruction
and getting lost in their dissolving sighs
and i feel heavy
with the ink of their confessions
heavy with the advice that they ignore
heavy with the simple ideas
that crowd my head, circling like those gulls
crying out
why?
why do we do these things to ourselves?
why do we confide in strangers
and never trust our own star systems
to find their way back into orbit?

i find myself assuming the role
of me, of my own name
displayed proudly on my sleeve
familiar letters that seem to betray
my transparent, flickering image
warm and true to friends' eyes, perhaps
but the spaces between the characters
are what appear to me in the mirror
not the black lines
but the grey areas
and i feel that transparency often
when i am surrounded by that sea once again
as i so often am
and the waves just seem to crash right over me
feeling invisible, and yet somehow
too visible
to ever be a part of the current, it seems
as each whisper, each ripple
each glance, each possible missed chance
each glimmering sail upon the horizon
appears to laugh at me
whether it's my sad, slow swimming
or my ragged inward appearance
that shines through the cracks in my face
it all becomes part of an image
that i see burned upon the surface of my soul
and some days it truly feels
like even the gulls are circling around me, crying out
why?
why do you do these things to yourself?
why do you even bother?