The clouds are boring now
as I exist in a realm outside reason and romance.
These clouds are aimlessly
splattered on a dull blue sky
by a tried Artist
feeling uninspired…unrealized.

Is there any hope
for the Artist
and our world he tries to paint?
Why must the artwork continue
to destroy itself!
I destroy me
by staying stagnant and unamused.

Perhaps sometimes art
must be boring to soothe the soul

long restless journey
found a place to sleep in
---an empty coffee cup

I wana fly with you in ecstasy,
I wana sail and swim with you for long in deep blue sea..

I wana to hold your hand and feel the heated sand of desert,
I wana to visit with you the entire world and its each little part..

I wana dance with you in the rain,
I wana run with you through the beautiful valleys like insane..

Come and quickly hold my hand !!
lets go, see the world and enjoy sea, hills, sky and land……………………..

A new refrain,
something fresh for the tongue.
A bright lemon in the wake of
chocolate
and chilis.
Something softer,
less harsh.
Not quite sweet.
I could never stand saccharine sentiment.
Not too sour,
acid leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
Not ice cream.
Italian ice while walking the streets of Venice,
smiling and nodding at the men whose words we can’t understand.

I wanna see new places, and meet new faces. Let's go on an adventure tonight?
We'll see all the stars, travel every road, and have a glance at everything in between.
We'll forget everything and live in the moment.
Lets get lost?
You and I.

One day I want to see you at my door telling me the things you never told me before. One day, probably a long time from now, I hope we meet again. On the same plane to some foreign city or the train across the country. But... If that doesn't happen I hope you remember our stories.

And one day maybe when you're grey and frail and your body is giving out on you... You'll think back to when you were young. You will think back to high school and all those days after will crash back into you. You'll think about love and pain and laughter and tears. You'll think about traveling and who came and went.

And one day, a long time from now I'm sure, you'll remember the girl you left in your hometown. You'll think about her and where she's at and how she's been. You'll ask your wife about her first love and tell her all about yours. Your kids will fall in love and ask about your heart breaks and tragedies.

And one day you'll tell them.
You'll tell them you didn't really know much but you knew about her. You knew that some people were meant to fall in love and not be together.

There were actually three sheets. I put two on top of the third because the bugs are real and were on the original unstated third sheet. Sometimes things smell like my grandma, but the scent has no name. My mom is over protective of her 107 year old wood floors. We've talked a lot about silence, but how often do we listen to what it is trying to say? I don't understand the physics of sound,  but there is nothing you can't understand without google. This poem isn't about you and we weren't wrong about the strobe lights or the fact that we had never been so ******. I wish you were here again.

Ask anyone and most would tell you
They'd love to travel
See the world
Visit foreign countries
Is that the dream?
Never call a place your home
Constantly moving, meeting new people
But you'll never open your heart completely
Think twice before you leave
Your sweet little hometown