The first time you mentioned forever,
I attempted to measure it.

Just how far can heartstrings stretch
when tugged by the blur of passing seasons,
extended arms, and miles of uncharted tomorrows?

No matter how many times I have watched
hands embrace the seconds of fleeting time
I still wonder if a moment exists                                                                                              
when they will finally tire of spinning, trying to find
salvation in the rotation of infinity

if it even exists.

Forever
making pit stops at sixteen at seventeen
in yesterdays expired and the blood red rush
of exhausted mistake.
Forever
smoke seeping through door cracks,
fires of promise, of passion, of fading
Forever
we will love
Forever
until our names run dry of meaning.

Just how many heartbeats does it take
to shelter an angel,
how many words exchanged does it take
to ****** the demons that wish to place
years and age and affliction
between the two who have painted
a thousand forevers between hands
held so tightly that minds forget how to change?

I am still trying to measure even now,
as we glide toward moments whose horizons
we will always be searching for.

I am an old soul
I never asked for explorers to progress
I never asked for inventors to invent
I never asked for science to discover or scholars to detect
I never asked to go from Steamers to engines
I never wanted to trade vinyl for headphones

But I’d always trade city lights for a mountain range
A worn out skyline for an open plane

Why do we complicate our lives in attempt to make them simple?
And why has living simply, become to most something trivial

I am raptured in this soul that refuses to age
In times that are always persistent to change

"Old Soul" -JP

Eight

There's no perfect time to find there's
no time left to perfect. Even with a new
watch I have trouble telling what time it
is without you, you who run like clockwork
precise down to the second, though no so
precisely in my second thoughts.

Tick,
The hands are moving.

Tock,
Life is slowing.

Tick,
Seconds are passing.

Tock,
Nothing is changing.

Tick,
Moments are fading.

Tock,
The clock is ticking.

Tick,
Can't you hear its heart beating?

Tock,
Telling you life is leaving.

Tick Tock,
As we lower you six feet everlasting.

Listen to the clock,
Your life is ending.

I don’t know what hurt worse,
The tick-tock
And clock in all –

Or the waiting,
Just one more second,
The wanting,
One last second
And be ******
The wine stained sand
And buzzards atop ear;

Always to remind of how I’d
Loved and ultimately
Failed.

She is a felon
Of time in check.
She punctures
The seconds, minutes, hours
With thoughts, fantasies
That elude her own eyes.

She bleeds passing moments
And drinks them like wine.
She bleeds me, too,
For I am but a collection
Of years at a time.

When the teeth and tongues
Not caring about the stained uniforms
Basked in pure orange candy joy
I believed for a second in something
They call happiness.

When the 40 something lady, after a call
With all her sweaty glory in the train
Smiled at the wallpaper of her daughter  
I believed for a second in something
They call inner peace.

When the sun goes down
And the problems in my mind unravel
I don't really find happiness or peace at all
But I know that I believe in something
They call, hope.

as a student I often imagine how it would be great if time could stop at certain point,
or at least if second lasted longer,
you know, when you have a lot of things to study but you’re short on time?
i bet you imagined that,
you had to.
of course, that is just our imagination playing with us, nothing else.

but what if it can be done?

sitting at class, listening teacher’s lecture can sure prolong the time,
we all know that,
but there is something more.

maybe some guy who sits in front of you
who runs his hands through his hair may prolong your seconds, even if you didn’t thought he could.
you see yourself stare for seconds, and stare for minutes at him and his hair.

your eyes put focus at him and blur everything else,
just like when we are taking a photo with our camera.
it focuses on things we want to be focused like it knows what we want
and it takes a photo and save it on memory forever.

and you ears cannot hear anything.
well, you hear everything but it all feels like you’re on concert and everyone else is yelling
but you are quiet because they are playing your favorite song
and you know it’s more beautiful if you feel it rather than jumping and yelling around.
it’s almost you could cry, but you’re too shy.
and all your other senses like smelling or pain except feeling starts to float in the room.
you start to feel his hands going through his softly, fluffy hair like it’s your own.
and he does it all over again.
and again,
and again.
and every time it’s like he does it
and you’re floating in the air of emotions and
it’s heaven.

--------------

he stops.

your eyes can see normally again and you hear professor lecturing again.
then you start to feel pain in your leg because it became numb.
you’re back, but you will always be able to feel that again, whenever you want
because you, just like camera, saved it in your little brain.
there will be days before you feel something like that again,
and there will be so many nights that you will dream about that again
and again.

do you believe me now?
do you believe that seconds can be prolonged?
I think you should.