My favorite thing is playing the guitar with you.
We go over the chords and laugh when our fingers do the wrong dance.
You get the patterns faster than me so I sing along while you strum.
I know you’re watching me while I sing so I close my eyes.
Because if we made eye contact I’d probably start laughing and ruin the whole song.
My favorite thing is our platonic, musical friendship.

This isn’t profound, really it's profanity.

I’m far from crazy but on the brink of insanity.
I can’t think straight, sometimes, but I can never stop till he stops calling for me.

All of my addictions, yeah they really caught up to me.
Coughin' out what’s written like the words come from God or something.

I don’t know though, really I am lost.


Like in the jungle of my thoughts and the trees keep branching out
and the growth will never stop.
The greenery is beautiful; when it rains it pours.
When it stops raining I start begging him for more,
until I realize the rain is what I need to enjoy the scene.

The seasons are essential in order to dream.

I keep sending messages to girls that I wouldn't want to read if it were me
Or maybe I'm talking down about myself for no reason and the ladies love it when I tell them how pretty they are
It's not I expect to get laid with kindness
I just gush about **** I like
Sue me, I'm a nerd for those curves

She fell from the sky
She clipped her wing
I brought her food
As much as I could bring

But food she did not need
Twas gold she craved
I went to the castle with mighty speed
And gave her the coins that I had saved

She's ran across the island
She flapped her giant wings
Getting the greed somewhat frightened
They were blown back by the wind

A lovely friend
A trusty companion
Loyalty that will never end

Star Scream; the Griffon

There is an island
called Cat-can-du.
And what can I but conclude:
you should heed my advice
and soon take a trip.
The air full of spices,
including catnip!

Cats, cats enchant
with eyes aglow naturally.
But what about cat eyes
that glow magically?
Those orbs are beacons of light
found in the wise, furry faces
of Cat-can-du felines.

As you catapult from one escapade to the next,
these fun-loving critters will lead
you to heights of sight-seeing so grand
with all of their brilliant cat skills.

From volcanic mounts
to far underground,
showing you hidden catacombs,
with eyes as bright
as any high-powered lantern.
Exploring the city's secrets,
side by side seeking out treasures--
it's exactly within their purrview.
To find old and new writings on shadowy walls
recalling hieroglyphics from cat worshiping Egyptians
and stowed-away diamonds, rubies, ancient coins, and scrolls.

A witch's best companion
Black cats have psychic powers,
it's a fact.
But in Cat-can-du exists a breed so rare
that its mythics are mostly all lost.
Perfect telepathy and with crystal clarity, they read
each and every one of your thoughts.

Their fur is so black it is almost blue--
but a very different hue
from the aquamarine waters
lapping at the shore like the cats lap at milk.
Now, it's common knowledge cats don't like water.
But here, oh here, in Cat-can-du
all cats, they swim like otters!

Another kind of magic kitty, has wings
to fly high into the sky, and a mane like a lion,
but in pastels, oh so pretty.
They write songs of daring do like minstrels of old
and will certainly create some of their best
about the adventures you'll share with them!
Now, do you know the name of a creature like that?
Here's a hint:
What if I were to say, it's also a cat with a horn
smack on its forehead?
It's a unicat!

These supernatural furballs
on this island do dwell.
I hope you'll find a way
to get there someday.
But until then, the next best thing
is perhaps just to picture yourself there,
to let your imagination set sail!

Sometimes I ask myself
when did my thoughts and hopes of blue and green
turn into violet worries, violent dispositions
When did this soul with its empty bookshelf
burn all its unwritten scripts of things yet to be seen
and my steady solace turn into a contradiction

I know what I want in life
when I see my favorite pieces of art
scattered accross the canvas of my solitary nights
my cold fingers once touched it and I can count it on all five
I want to believe that I'd be content with really only a shard
to know my dreams aren't just made of imaginary sights

My open heart drives me
in uncertain directions with clear aspiration, sometimes just insane
but always looking, always wanting, always one heart ahead
If my eyes could only look beyond uncertainty and I'd finally see
a way that goes far and will let me travel along a green country lane
If I could feel as if I'd know why it seems so difficult not to be dead.

In everything that had to be broken and shed
these distant promises on remote and empty shores
For only the contingency of all that could be good and whole
Truly not knowing where this road might have led
and still keep my hands open and reaching and breathe in deeply through all of my pores
let me just find one wholesome and abiding content in this burning library inside my soul

Mine.
The sanctity of that one word brings comfort like how the
caresses of your touch brings trails of starlight,
That word bounds more than the physical,
But with each it fulfills the moon to which it's purpose is to shines upon our moments,
its glow is to illuminate the illusion of all the time in the world.

And if that's all the time we have then I will conjure more,
Even if it's imaginary
Because you are worth the value that reflects on a mirror,
And I don't need the list to narrate those parts of you,
Because it reflects on me everyday.

All I want is the wholeness of you that
makes the day seem bright from the moonlight before and everyday
the affection that grows which never tried to by its own making, has developed and intensified because of you.

A feeling indescribable that it isn't on a list of my own.
But you can take and name it for me if you must, we can share the growth that it comes from.

Because what's mine, is yours .

As the ocean breaks
And palm trees sway,
In the peaceful morning
Of a new day,

I sit and listen to the black birds’ songs
Of joy and life
That do not long
For the freedom they already have.

The birds back home sing a different tune,
They chatter and screech to fill the gloom
And damp dark chill of a winter’s noon,
(at least to me that is)

But as I sit here by the beach,
Feeling the calmness and the peace
Of this wondrous, quiet space,
I can’t help but to grin,

For to be where the people are kind,
And orchids smell sweet,
Where the air is hot,
(but a good kind of heat),

Was simply,
Truly,
Wonderful.