There are clouds of sound and noise
That utter thoughts in a muffled voice,
Gestures of hands simply won’t cast out
Cloudy skies in days of doubt.

Like strangers lost in a crowd
Whose cries are buried by the loud,
The loud din of helpless wanderers
Whose presence disrupts and disturbs.

All strangers left on their own,
Islands floating out in the fog;
Orphans with cruel fates to bemoan;
Fates that are swept under the rug.

And who's looking with interest, who reaches down with an arm,
Never so eager to help, neither too late nor too soon?
Who would make this world perhaps a little more warm
And freshen the skies of our cloudy afternoon?

It was all too fast and unexpected. Suddenly I was there meeting a complete stranger not knowing what to expect. She was heartbreaker and I knew it deep down but I ignored all the red flags for all those butterflies and rainbows. She knew where my buttons were, she knew when to push them, she knew how to play a girl very well. And now I'm left feeling like a fool because she has moved on to her next prey.

A passing moment
So powerful
You simply want them to come back.
While feet slip by
And hearts wander farther away

I see your soul.
A barren strain isn’t hard to examine.
I know the flatline and dead mindlessness
that comes as a sand storm sweeps.
I know those aches and groans.

I’ve sat by the colorless windows
of a gloomy city, seeing nothing but strangers
with indifferent eyes.
I’ve walked these streets feeling the laughter
vibrate but never entering this gray soul.

I’ve bought all the whisky to drown out
the fluorescent lights of love blooming
in the new year.
Grabbed book after book
in hopes to fill the gaps and dents in me.
There might be a cure
but don’t find it in someone else.

For those tropical storms can carry
them away and leave you to wallow
alone like a tape on replay.

So run.
Go far and leave this town.
Run from your life.
Travel.
Eat.
And pray.

Then maybe you can love and blossom
in the lights for the choices taken
by a wandering soul.

Fit to nothing but feel everything.
For life is too short to sit- read- drink-
and feel the burn of salt on your cheeks.

Sincerely yours,

Wanda

Tantamount to the crawlspace where your emotions
are dissembled,
is the animalistic focus in your pointed gaze,
Sketchy eyed with jerky limbed motions,
As elusive as you are always around,
Or so it would seem,
Their eyes fall upon you,
no doubt,
You are a vision,
That I do not and have never questioned,
There is a fundamental lack of
hesitancy in your days,
lately you have looked let down,
Thinking of you,
occurs outside the restraints of time,
I would like to be everything with you.

you "know" me.
but you don't know me.

the me you know,
is a bright, introverted mess.
an artist with a touch of glitter.
a stranger.

i, on the other hand,
am dull on both the inside,
and outside.
my emotion is yet to be determined
even by me.
and negativity is the highlight
of my personality.

you don't know me -
you don't want to know me.

- v.m

The world moves in rhyme with the beats of his heart,
Taking shapes of everything that sets his mind apart.
His fingers sway to play the notes of, both, dear life and death.
For his strings were blessed to hold, both, dear peace and mess.
The music in his veins fuels his pain to ignite a flame,
To dawn over his shame, shut madness' claim he's insane.
It's swinging on the walls of every home he's ever had,
That home was never really part of any room or flat.
But dwells inside his lonely guitar a heaven of his own.
The tragedy of the closest thing to home he'd ever known

I have fallen for you
since the first time
we met.
Wanting to know
more about you
was the goal that
I set.

You caught me
off-guarded whenever
you would gaze at me;
I looked away quickly—-
Heart pounding but
feeling all giddy.

I want to get to know you more
but I know that I never will;
My flight leaves at seven—-
Can’t we make time stand still?

Even though I didn’t get to ask
for your name;
There’s this hope inside of me
that our feelings——
are the same.