I will dress you day
in a golden light
with your
chipping of birds
and Trafic picking up speed
I will dress you
in your bare nakedness
cold feet and warm tender skin
I will dress you in anticipation
when now I feel you so near
That your love will pass through me
And into you
day

The brokenness of our emotions
Keeps me forever in motion
Caught in the current of affection
Drowned by the spirit of your transgressions
Holding tight to my own distorted truth of you
Whose love was one I thought through
Stabbing in the depths
Tossing me off the cliffs
Strangling my wounded heart
To leave me helpless from this gunshot  
To use my love as the confidence for another
Leaving me to look at your cracked love for this other
Bitterness doesn’t paint a pretty picture
The stench of this anger has created this creature
The beast hides from behind this mask
Never living up to its task
Scaring the scars of others
So it doesn’t have to face it’s true colors
The mind of a man had dissipated
Into something the author couldn’t even have anticipated
Waking up
Tears drifted into perspective
As the soul became protective
Hoping this love became lost within the past
Hoping the years have created the illusion at last
Of wondering, did I make you up?

Thought cried expectantly
wishing for an other Chance
in sundering limelight

I've drawn a big square
Then another
In each corner
Inside the big one
                   I have a house

  Just the same as the one
    I drew when I was five
       With a little stick dog
                                  A tree
         And a winding path

       All out of perspective 

Little's changed
                 I still can't draw
A dog now barks
The tree is deciduous
                 And the path’s still winding

I was never born to be great;
I never believed it was my fate.
Not like the Beatles,
Who wrote the songs
That live with us all life long.
I wasn't here to invent
A vaccine to prevent laments,
Or destroy dementia,
Or unveil the answer
That cancels cancer.
I'm not up on investments
That provide the cash to crash hunger,
Or house the homeless and usurp anger.
No I'm not a man of wonder.
Yet, if you ask someone who knows me,
A child of mine, for one,
They'll correct my every regret,
And might say I was all these.

there’s no grey in black & white
until the bleeding starts
then, sometimes
there’s even color

Tank all your profiles,
Cause they're tightening a snare.
𝘞𝘩𝘰 are you identifying?
Are these my views?
Is that my perspective?
Is it 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦?

Tank all your profiles,
Cause it's harder to get ******* physical than digital.
It's either a check or an x
To be marked onto your square.
A few fascists' dream
Is a legislative nightmare.

Everyone thinks I’m an idiot.
Even me.

My friends think I’m funny
but not smart,
not sharp.

I got a certificate to belay while rock climbing
just so I could be like my friends,
but Ryan wouldn’t let me belay him.

Claire thinks I’m not good enough
to teach others how to climb.

Mira told me,
“you’re the last person I thought would know the answer,”
while we were studying for a final.

I felt unsteady afterward,
like I was winded.

My mood sank fast.
There was a pressure in my abdomen -
like I had to take a ****
but I was holding it in.

And on the same note,
I wanted to run
away,
out of sight,
so I could **** in peace.

But instead,
I laughed it off
and smoked cigarettes on the porch
when I got home
because I’m too stupid
to read the label.

I am convinced by my own actions, too
although I can’t decide
if it’s my forgetful brain
or just my personality:
aloof,
head in the clouds.

I remember walking through the halls of high school,
friends passing by, trying to get my attention
but I was staring at the ceiling again,
at the scattered marks, how they had no pattern,
and how that somehow made me uncomfortable.

Either way,
the stupidity sticks.

I heard a wise man saying,
"I wouldn't just abandon a friend
Simply because they were going through
Some strange parasocial moment.
Although, I will admit
That I may not fully understand it.
That I might not be able
To fully appreciate their perception
Of whatever given situation."

For, you see,
We can only truly speak
On that of our perspectives.