There hasn't been a day gone by since I first said this to you,
that my undying romantic dream is to respect and believe in
the terrible things you do. Last time I saw you blessed to touch
another human's heart when they believed you would remove
the rust you just stood in acceptance with palms open knowing
you would soon shut your hands. You're a trap for madness.
Blessed too, from birth to death, with a magic attracting the
most fragile, those mostly broken already. Those farther from
full than empty. Now and again I question if you know what
you're doing or if you're possessed.

Years later, you're still sitting and spinning where others improved.
Boys, toys, and nicotine mixed with THC in the air to breathe.
What mattered the most even to those who never spoke the words,
you let impress the stress marks on your couch. And here you
thought stretch marks and acne scars were the worst of life, and
now you've got stretch marks and acne scars, must be due in
part to the confidence you'd be no better off. Now you're no better
off, than you were before. Now it's five years on, and you've
learned nothing more.

I can say
Maybe I'd believe you
If you weren't
so prone to hard
stop/restart

After carving her first name into his chest, he lied there for a few moments on her porch, desperately trying to remember her surname. And convince himself that he was in love. And that this love, somehow, was mutual.

Two Weeks Earlier. Him.
It had been a while since anyone had loved him. ‘A while’ was putting it gently. He was the kind of man that spoke when spoken to. He was not unfriendly, but not outgoing, per se. His last relationship had ended on April 20, 2004, with the words, “I think we both knew this was coming.” The sad part, or the sadder part, was that he had not known that it was coming. That was the day he found out what a difficult process it is to return an engagement ring, and was forced to figure out what to do with 5000 dollars of store credit at Tiffany’s.
And then he met her. She just showed up one day at a friend’s house. She was beautiful. Well, not exactly his type. Actually, he usually went for brunettes. And her left eye was a little on the lazy side, if he was being honest. But when she said hello, he was hooked. She was just so friendly. So breathtakingly, proposal-inducingly, friendly. All of a sudden that store credit didn’t seem so useless anymore. He could tell this was going to be the start of something beautiful.

Her.
She met someone at her old roommate’s dinner party that night. He was nice.

Him.
Three days had passed since the night they met. Thing’s just weren’t the same as they used to be. She’d changed. She never talked to him anymore. Ever since that first day, she’d been so distant. He couldn’t understand why, because she said, he distinctly remembered her saying, that she might see him again sometime. But it had been days, and still no word from her. All he wanted was to make her happy. All he wanted was her. But, he decided, she detested him. She really must have loathed him. But what could he possibly have done wrong, he whispered to her photograph.

Her.
On her way to the grocery store one day, she bumped into that man from the party, whose name she couldn’t quite recall. She said hello and carried on with her shopping.

Him.
“Well, it was good to see you…what was your name again?”
Those words had been running through his head ever since the grocery store incident. What did she mean by that? What kind of game was she playing? He couldn’t figure it out, but he knew that he missed the old Her. The Her that would never forget his name, that would ask him out and mean it. Then he realised what she was trying to say. She wanted him to try harder. She wanted him to show her how much he valued their relationship. That was why she’d been avoiding him. He started to develop a plan. It was grand gesture time.

Her.
Her friends had told her that he’d asked for her number. The first message she received from him was cryptic: he was asking for her surname, but had phrased it in such a strange way, as if he was trying to convince her that he already knew the answer, while simultaneously emphasising the importance of the question. She replied regardless.

Him.
He had figured out what she wanted. It was so obvious now.
The reason she was ignoring him, the reason she had put him through all that agony, was because she wanted him to prove just how much she meant to him. A ring wasn’t going to cut it this time. She was desperate, really. It was pathetic that she felt she had to take it this far. But he wanted Her to be happy. This is what you do when you really love someone, he thought. In that moment his hatred for Her was almost as tangible as his devotion.

Her.
The second message she received instructed her to go look outside. She opened the door and screamed. When all the officials had finally gone, and her porch had been sprayed down, she sat there and processed what had happened. There was one thought, in particular, that persisted in crossing her mind.
“He spelled my name wrong.”

Sweet and serene,
alone but complete.
Deep thinking, sinking
into the music of my soul.

My love stays away
it's sad, but i'm okay.
We do what we must
for a cause, so trust.

again,
We do what we must
for a cause..
I pause.

Could it be that we
live in reverse?
As an effect in search
for a cause.

Should it not be
that we live to effect
the lives around us
the earth and all of nature
positively?

Perhaps this is what is wrong
with our Western society,
our obscure perception
of this corrupt projection.

This Western culture,
our political vultures.
The awakening of their deadened prey
is nothing short of forthcoming.

We'll become *Illuminated,
educated, Enlightened.
This shell which imprisons us is bound
to break.

So pay attention, Your life, Their lives,
This World
are all at stake.

A kindling at bay, a linking uncertain. Even though the flame was not lit, it was not dead.

This old House,
Now decrepit and haunted.
Once lush,
with hope and excitement.
Washed away by time,
Forgotten like an old memory.
The once lavish halls,
Dulled and musty.
Time bested this place,
Lonely and still.
Cobwebs comb the building,
Showing signs of discontent.
Clouds mull around above,
Mocking this great place.
Alone is the forest,
That now owns the land.
How long,
Will this place last.
Screams of despair can be heard,
Haunted by memories.
Littered with broken dreams,
And scattered promises.
This old house,
Crumbling down.
Can it be salvaged,
Or is it forever doomed?

You look to her,
And see perfection.

You look to me
And see a canvas
Covered with the wrong strokes
And dried paint
Of ages ago.