life on the blue screen
been there done that waiting for
all magnificent

Time passes as my name must be a long gone Memory
Stars die out, as you must tire from my apology
A singular, repetitive one, in a hope you say Hello one day
That we meet again, you look my way, and for one time to say
"I love you."

Constantly seen messages, Constant messenger pigeons
They console me, gently chide, tell me to let be
Yet every time it blurs my vision
That the prospect to becoming a lover and father one day
is tearing me apart

To use my youth denies accountability, blame others ruins my integrity, To say my mouth had enough, disregards the truth
My words followed the dark path my heart made, My youth turned adult
Can time, that heals wounds, still turn me into captivity
Where my own bedroom feels like a peaceful prison?


Can it be so easy to hate everyone, and wish they'd die?
Even the ones I love who I wish expire and live in the sky?
That my begging, tearful nature, is a crutch, and turns my fleeting independence
To a childish dependence
On others to send you messages I wish I could do myself

I believe God will bring her back, and bring me peace
But do I deserve such a charitable Deed?
I pray, cry and hope indeed
That his divined intervention intercedes

That a measly 7 months of silence
Can never compare to an eternity where death doesnt guarantee our souls meet
Tested by my patience
Willing to lose the sheep and honey bees of this world
For the bunny I sold away in anger

I keep my phone close to me to see if you wrote me
I put my phone away to keep myself from waiting
But my head keeps thinking about your next text

The train didn’t leave the station—
it just waited for me to give up chasing it,
its engine a wolf panting in the dark,
smoke curling into the air
like the echo of a laugh,
a smirk I couldn’t outrun.

I ran because stopping felt like failure.
I ran like if I reached it, I’d finally be enough.
I ran until my lungs screamed,
until the soles of my shoes
wore whispers into the gravel.
I swore I heard it call my name,
but maybe it was just the wind,
mocking the way I mistook movement
for meaning.

For a moment, it slowed—
just enough to make me believe
I could catch it,
just enough to make me think
it wanted me there.

The train didn’t leave.
It sat there,
watching me unspool myself,
mile by mile,
breaking like an old clock
that refused to tick.

I thought if I ran fast enough,
I could earn its departure—
prove I was worthy of being left behind.
But it was never about speed.
It was about surrender,
about learning that some things
stay still just to watch you fall apart.

The train never moved.
It stayed quiet,
its shadow stretching long,
swallowing me whole,
burying me in forgetting.

I stopped running.
And that’s when I realized—
the train was never waiting for me.
It was waiting to remind me
that some things linger like shadows,
stretching long enough
to teach you how to let go.

We sing and that's how

we make a very good time --


out of the waiting.

F I N A L L Y
i  l  e      a o  e
r l  e      s v  s
s    d      t e  
t             i
              n
              g
I T S
   o t
   u a
   c  r
   h s
   e
   d
O V E R
p  a  v e
a  r   e s
l   r   r  p
s   y  y e
            c
            t

It is still so new,

I'm disconcerted, sitting --


here waiting for you.