there are times i still feel your fingertips grazing my cheek from when you stared at me as we procrastinated our goodbye.
i feel as though when your touch finally forfeited and you left that day, some sort of bond was made.
some invisible string tied us together at the wrists, and on the days we don’t speak my fingers go numb.
i tap them and beg for my senses to wake on the tables and counters i pass, in a rhythm that matches no other beat but your heart.
i wonder if you lose feeling at the thought of me.

But love doesn’t make sense!
You can’t logic your way into or out of it.
Love is totally nonsensical.
But we have to keep doing it,
or else we’re lost and love is dead,
and humanity should just pack it in.
Because love is the best thing we do.
And that doesn't have to make sense,
to make sense.

my lifestyle is dead style
out of my head style
every day's the wrong side of the bed style

I'm living so lifeless
like painted-on eyelids
my life's only priceless because there's no price list

not blind but I'm sightless
no wings so I'm flightless
no things to take sight of and fly for or ride for
or die for or try for or lie for or strive for
or cry for or smile for or open my eyes for

making steps is unwise like Gandalf's demise
wiping dust from my eyes, I set sight on the skies
still can't see so surmise it's my final sunrise
a well of wet decisions doesn't ever run dry

Before beauty
God created
beautiful human
is to be seen and sense!

You know the hardest thing I ever had to do,
Was realize no matter what I ever knew
I would never make sense to you,
Now my words are very few
And what else is new?
My time is due,
Social ruse
I will lose,
I am

*~Through~

is finger-licking two senses
me, myself and i sit down, consensus
everyone has a different rendition of relentless
what version is this of this, which you, depends it
imaginary penitentiary, locked in myself, one tenant
like i could send a message with only a letter, pen it
see greater with less 3d one eye red it
eye to brain, i blew it
i 9 lives brain dead
brain faculty, mind, not same head
while nothing visual, split cranium and drain head

I can fold your sweatshirt into
a tidy package and send it back
across state lines
but what do I do with the memories?

I long to return the feeling of your arms around me as you sleep.
I can pack away the necklace you gave me
but when rain falls, its music speaks your name

When will the summer air stop tasting of you, too?

not everything has to make sense
not everything needs a reason
we need the space in between
where we can just think  
the moment when common sense isn't so common
the middle part of right and wrong

so when u see someone doing something u dont understand
dont ask why - just try it for yourself

Time is punctual.  
    I, not always.
Time is immortal.
      My life awaits.
         Time does not wait
             For anything it creates.
                       Time reminds us
                       Only when it's late.
Time is everything I am not yet.