Hovering over the road with a block of concrete meeting the soles of my feet and a gate fencing me in from making a quick escape, I looked out to the boardwalk only a short glance away. Riders and walkers, singers and speakers, all entering my perception then quickly vanishing as if that moment had been the only moment of their existence. Beyond the scope of their short stories that had only been real in my mind was a still black curtain, sewed to the clouds above my head. Its depth was infinite yet non-existent for there was no line of differentiation between the sky and the surface it paralleled.

I love observing a stranger's mannerisms,
they tell a story of their own.

There is beauty in the way she unravels herself to me.
How she plucks on the strings of her well-worn corset of flesh,
With fingers skimming over the buttons and hooks that made her once distant to me.
Stripping the clothes of Herself until she stands naked as a baby.
Placing her Trust in the cradle of my arms and her Heart in my hands.

There is beauty on how she self-destructs infront of me.
The prismatic glass pieces of her soul scattered like fallen snow
As I hammered through it with an ice pick of words, lies and promises to be kept.
Her tears ****** dry as the last falls down like a diamond discarded.

Eloquence has little worth in the steaming hearth;
Where the ropes coil and knuckles crack from the strain.
Others set themselves free and pirouette in the stream
Because they don't carry the ballast on their feet;
Their tongue;
Their nerve.

As a passer-by I only watch
across a darkened room,
marvelling at your healing touch
that turns the searing sting
in my burning heart to one
that doesn’t burn as much.

A friend once told me that all of his inspiration was lost, it was a half past 2.
I wondered how much of himself it would cost to wander a bit, and try something new.
Maybe this is out of the blue, but perhaps we can find inspiration in all of its absence, too.
Inspiration is in me and it's in you.
It's where you sit right now, just enjoying the view.
It's the smiles that graze by you, if only a few.
It's the change in the space that could never be replaced.
A positive embrace that becomes written all over my face.
I told him, "sometimes, we must change our questions and readjust our eyes. And by surprise, the sunset becomes the sunrise."
The difference between a decline and an incline.
The distance between looking forward and falling behind.
Inspiration that is in front of us -
The heart invested trust that sends us a rush that is never undone.
The cold-hearted lust that turns to love under the sun.
Your words are not lost, they have only just begun.
To wander is to observe.
We find inspiration between the fine lines of all the words that we've heard.
I told him that I think we deserve to imagine our world...
To become what you desire to serve.
To see all the lessons learned and unlearned, in the midst of your hurt.
My last words curved, without a slur -
"Stay grounded. There is always inspiration implanted in the dirt."

- L.G.

He looks at him
With envious eyes
It's as if he asks himself why

He asks himself where is the love he had
He asks himself when will he find love

And he looked down
And fell his tears to the ground

He steps slowly
With a smile on his face
His happiness, so evident
His smiles were all over his face
He finally found his love
So when will I?