Rules are only boundaries
Set in place to break
People only want to see
The side of you that's fake.

I walk on the wrong side of the street
I live my life toe-tapping to the backbeat.

I can't dance or even clap
Rocking in my own little world
They don't hear the backbeat
And so call me absurd.

Thunk-tap, thunk-tap
***** that bounce, jump ropes turn
All you hear is thunk, the tap
A language you can't learn.

Try to cover me, the shushing falls in sheets
But try as you might, you can't drown out the backbeat.

Think of life with no backbeat
Thunk thunk it's simple song
A perfect and boring example
Of where we all went wrong.

Thunk-TAP, thunk-TAP
The backbeat comes back in, beginning now to swell
Thunk-TAP, thunk-TAP, thunk-TAP, thunk-TAP
Faster, louder, a rhythm you can't quell.

This is who I am, I'm turning up the heat
Rendering you uncomfortable in the echo of my backbeat.

I had no mirror
No mirror that could look into my heart
So I went out and spent ten dollars
Buying one from Walmart.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Who is the fairest of them all?

I asked the question and
It sneered in reply
Mocking as it stated the answer --
Anyone but I.

Standing back I was startled
To see my face distorted
So I asked once more
To see what it reported.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Who is the fairest of them all?

"The ones in magazines," it told me
"And your friends with perfect luck
But it can be you, too
If you do as I instruct.
Change your eyes, your smile
Change your clothes and hair
Change everything uniquely you
And I will make you fair."

Here's to all prospective mirror buyers
Don't purchase them from Walmart, the ones they sell are liars.

Wet, fuzzy skins
Slipping over the
Cool metal, the
Sticky black handle.

Juicy sweet slices of
Pure summer, slipping through
My lips, perfect, more
Exquisite than any candy could be.

Like light that drips
Through the open kitchen window
With the sweat that drips
Down my neck, salty hot.

A sunset, pooling on the horizon
Cool descending, fluttering
A night bird to the earth
Softly covering the sugary happiness.

A thunderstorm, exploding
Releasing floodgates of
Delight, pounding on the
Roof, puddling in the yard.

Sprinkle, just a pinch, cinnamon
Mix it up with brown sugar
And sweet skies, afternoon tunes
Pour it in a crust of
Evening cool, cover in a doughy blanket
Put it in that deep heat of
July, leave for awhile and take out
Your perfect peach pie, summer in a pan.

Coffee stains and exploding pens
Rumpled paper pages and combusting lipgloss
Love, hate, joy, anger, confusion
Running, skipping
Falling, tripping
Dashing down the sidewalk
Late running, running late?
Never mind my frazzled mind.

Sweater sleeves and spinning spirals
Starry eyes, broken melodies
Like glass that shatters when
You break a string, popping
Like popcorn, nestled in
The river's glaring
Night reflections of fate
The perfect metaphor.

Birds fly, headphones break
Words read, hearts ache
Rhymes never last longer than
A line or two before
They're lost to me forevermore
That scarf of captured rainbows
I miss like an old friend
Spots of glitter, blots of paint.

Blue jeans, ballgames, autumnal skies
Chipped china, it's on days
Like this I wish I simply
Had a lint roller for my brain.

I live in an
Enchanted Forest.

Where woodland animals appear
In misty twilight from behind
The mineral-stained shower curtain
And dewdrops sparkle on
The toothpaste-spattered
Mascara-blotted mirror.

Tiny little elves
Rumple my sheets and
Throw my clothing on the floor
Magic fairies dance over
The dresser top and eyeliner-strewn vanity
To the mystical, elusive strains of Owl City.

Mushroom jewels spring up
In my closet while I sleep
Dreaming of princes and turning sixteen
Ruling a kingdom and graduating highschool
Christmas lights twinkle like the
Multicolored stars of a fantasy night.

I spend my days in
This little woodland cottage
My loyal mutt snoring on her rug
Notebooks lined up on
A shelf with drying herbs
Chattering mice and potions of tired hopes.

I live in an Enchanted Forest
Or maybe I just sprayed too much perfume again.

Do walls listen
Do chairs
Call up their friends at night
To tell them all my secrets?

Do couch cushions ever
Groan with the weight
Of people
And their feelings?

Do rugs spy?
Do pillows fear?
Do end tables lie?
Do bookshelves hear?

Do stuffed frogs comprehend
That they're hearing all my thoughts?
Or are they merely upset
That I squish them too hard?

Do lamps remember
What I said last week?
Do potted plants and decorations
Gossip among themselves?

Do floors ache
When they hear the truth
Finally spoken from my lips
Do walls listen?

Nose pressed against the cold glass
Blinking at the streetlights
That are trying to outshine the stars
That retreated behind their clouds.

Watching the orange bulbs
Glaring relentlessly at me
Marching in straight lines
Along the street.

Because at some point
The lights started to think
That in their overwhelming number
They outnumbered the stars.
And that in their sophistication
They were better than the fireflies
And the stars and fireflies left
Leaving the streetlights to rule.

But there is none of that
Familiar choking in my throat
And the weirdest calm
In my head.
And that is stranger than
The streetlights governing
But not as gnawing as
The empty space in me.

If I could give you
A thousand smiles
I would bottle them up
For you to take out on a rainy day.

If I could give you
A million hugs
I would put them in a box
And write your name on the lid.

If I could give you
Ten thousand perfect days
I'd put them in a saltshaker
And sprinkle them out on you one by one.

Some nights
I pick up my pencil
Open up my book
And the words flow
Like water, calm, cool
Smoothly winding, bitter wine
Sweet golden honey emotions.

Some nights
I can't quite
Gather up my thoughts
Churning out slowly
Stilted memories
Like a faraway, distantly sparkling party.

Some nights
I sharpen said pencil to a needle-point
Flip through the book
Reread old thoughts
Stare at the last page
Glaring, sad, blank
And have no thoughts to fill it with.

Broken moments like this,
Destined to be lost in time,
Fading like grains of sand,
Funneled into deep chasms.

Standing on a jagged cliff's edge upon tempestuous winds,
Arms outstretched to each side as I gaze down below and
I see beyond the sedimentary rocks stacked below by the tides.
I see life being revealed like a scroll unrolling through time.
I see a baby birthed by my wife, a healthy son with her eyes.
I see so many smiles to contrast the salty tears streaming my cheeks.
Arms come down to my sides and the wind ceases it's howling.
Sun ascends and the dark clouds set off to come again another day.
I have lived.

Broken moments like this,
Destined to be remembered,
Stay like an over-winter bird,
Kept as fine polished treasures.