all the folded boats
spill out of my empty books.

the trees are on fire again.
my mind is on a another wild chase.

my hands light some more branches.
“the world is too cold for me”,
is all that i can say.

today, i am less sad than yesterday,
which makes everything that much more difficult.

today my sorrows have become facts.
my childhood reduced to folded boats in a trash can.

is there any other way to live than this?

The Spider under my chair
                 Wasn't doing me any harm...
                             But I killed it.

I don't know why I did what I did
                  But I know if I knew
                             That Spider under my chair
  
Would still be alive.

A passing thought of your soft grin
Tugs my heart strings taut and humming
They play sweet songs like violins
Adrift in clouds of silk and honey

A sun burns bright within my heart
It shines for you a world apart
I feel you there reaching for me
And in your arms I long to be

I feel you here within my heart
A world away, but not apart
In dreams I play our first embrace
picturing your smiling face



the quiet warmth of knowing
you exist with me tonight
soothes me into peaceful sleep
as I bathe in morning light

I watch the window to your world
Dreaming of reaching through that glass
I'd crawl into your sleeping arms
And leave behind the past

Catching a glimpse of your soft smile
I feel my own heart beating
but opened eyes tear you away
for dreams, the fickle things, are fleeting



Embers smolder deep within
Spreading, rising to my throat
A gasp of air, I catch my breath
As flames of desire ignite

But desolate winds gather in my chest
As the fires fight to stay alight
I hold myself, a hollow shield
This empty space inside grips tight

Things were never perfect
That's what made it
great

It was good,
made beautiul from the illusion that there wasn't a

glass ceiling to
how much we
could love each other

Universal entropy,
masking it’s plan

Perceivable good and
evil, much more than so

A light waiting to be shone
beyond which we can ever comprehend

Camouflaged, patient;
wickedness one day proving itself
God’s rippling gift

And yet, the present seems bleak,
The great unknown rests
behind a curtain,
even to you

Keeping us suspended
above countless destinies below,
those realities flickering like traffic from
a private city rooftop

Our actions,
for an audience we are unaware exist
So not for naught,
do indulgences befall

Some good can come of our mistakes,
even if it's to faces we'll never know

Outside two squirrels foraging
Inside one hundred and one keys tapping
Three buttons clicking and one wheel spinning
Eight hours a day sitting badly
In an ergonomic desk chair
Soft fingers tap on plastic and glass
Weak muscle memory of calluses and splinters
And sunburn blisters from another life
Outside the old prairie wind howls like a phantom
Lost in urban canyons buffets the panes
Drives the torrents of freezing rain
Hard droplets tap on metal and glass
While inside high-rise terrariums we sit
Generating transient value that flits
Up into the clouds till whenever
You tap plastic to trade your invisible worth
For a hot meal in a disposable bowl
Ponder and sip in another life you could be
Spending eight hours a day in the freezing rain
Hunting squirrels for soup

A dream you can't capture,
A thirst you can't quench.
A time you can't hold,
A bus you couldn't catch.
A book which you wished it never ended,
A rain which you wished to be everlasting.
A sensation you cannot fully relish,
An infatuation so unfathomable!
A moment worth a thousand universe!

'Wish I could seize them all!
But where's beauty in that!
For I choose to live as a bruised man
Rather than a soulless god!