I want you to know that
no matter how
                irrational
                                  ­illogical
             dissociated
                                 disconnected
                 sporadic
                                 scattered
                    erratic
                           ­      brusque
          anticlimatic
                                 abrupt
        idiosyncratic
                                 volatile
   temperamental
                            and
                   ­               fickle
are your emotions.
To me,
they are valid;
they are whole;
they suffice.
Because,
you are only as absurd as you believe you are.

And absurdity's boundaries stretches linearly,
into immemorial time.

Alarm!!!!
Today is going to be a lovely day!
Coffee stain!
Traffic!
Rain no umbrella!!!!
Terrible boss!!
Forgot lunch!!!
Deadline not met!!
Disappointed boss!!
Traffic!!
What's for dinner??!
No hot water!!!!!!!!!!
Today was actually a lovely day...
I'm alive ain't I?

I exist in fragments
scattered over years and moments
of love, of joy, of pain.

In fragments held by people;
I hope they need them someday
if only a brief remembrance.

In fragments lodged in places
where I've been or have wished to be,
where I loved, I laughed, I cried.

In fragments in your heart
that I broke myself for.
Those fragments I may not find again.

I exist in fragments
broken but knowing
that maybe we all need a fragment of me.

I like the days when the sun sings and the trees sway to the song
I like the days when the clouds laugh and the wind carries the sound
I like the days when the rain is crisp and makes you feel alive
I like the days when the storms come down and we laugh anyway
I like the days when the lightning makes porch lights seem small
I like the days when life falls away
and falls in place
even just for a moment
and the only thoughts thought
were of the days
that I like

When the ship of life sets sail,
where exactly will you be?
Below deck, not quite able to see the world
With your head down and your hands tucked in
your jeans' pockets. And as your ships sails on
the waters, steered by others you miss everything.
The gushing wind. you know not what it feels like,
The ocean spray. You know not what it tastes likes
The bright blue skies. You know not what it looks like.
But what you do know,
Is what it all sounds like, and so
The journey, you missed and as the ships docks on the dark
shores of the end of your journey.
All you can remember is not what it
Felt like,
Tastes like, nor
What it looks like but what it all sounded like.
Wondeful was the sound of the stories other lads had to tell
But now that you've come to the end
What is your story? The stories of men
For you never got to see, taste or feel it for yourself
Because you were below deck thinking all is well.

I know that the sun sometimes struggles to break through the clouds
A ball of fire so mighty held down
By the marshmallows of the sky
Even the strong have there set backs