If I asked you
Where would you choose to go,
if given the opportunity to time travel

Past or future

Well,
I used to think
Is that even a question
Of course the future.

What's in the past?
Nothing useful.
And you won't get anything from there.

Better see the future.
You can earn some money.
And you will know something which you didn't before.
I could become the most powerful person on earth with that.

But now that I have grown a bit.
It seems much easier to dwell on the past.
The beautiful moments I had,
Which would never come back.
I wish I could relive them forever.

Like when I was laughing with my friends
So hard, that my stomach started paining,
My eyes won't stop watering.
I felt like I would explode out of joy.


When my mom was feeding me with her hands,
The love and warmth of her fingers,
Making the food extra delicious.
It was the best food I ever had.

When I went for a walk with my dad,
He usually doesn't talk much.
But that day he was putting his efforts to look for something to talk about.
For once he showed me that he cares.
We walked holding hands in hands.
It felt like the safest place on earth to be.

When I was reading the poem,
Written by my brother as my birthday gift.
It was so wonderful.
Full of all the stories we had for whole our lifetime.
The crazy spelling mistakes,
And that almost unreadable handwriting,
Made it even better
I cried and cried,
Tears full of love, emotions, guilt and much more.
I knew I could give my life for this little fellow of mine.

When I would walk with this guy,
Holding hands,
We would talk for hours,
Never really reaching to an end.
All the fights and melodrama,
Then going back to normal,
Only to fight again,
But the fights were beautiful and so was the drama.
I could fight the world for him.

Alas! Too bad!
The future can't bring those feelings back to me,
Those times ,
Where I felt like I should die right now because I am so happy,
And I would never be like that again.
When I felt l was floating in the air,
Out of those emotions.

So I choose to go to the past,
No matter how stupid it sounds.
I would like to be there,
Forever and ever.

Even after I die
You can find me there
Living In those moments
When I was so happy that I wanted to die at that moment.

I'm writing this
From the top of the hill
Black berries in my palm
Thinking of you
Maybe you'll think of me
Up in your room
Barred off from the world
A twisted fairytale
But we aren't Rapunzel
We aren't Disney quality
Who wants a homoflexible prince
And a purple haired queen
Besides your hair
Isn't quite that long
And I don't own a horse
But I do have some letters from you
And you have some from me
Maybe I'll travel around today
And see if you got back to me
I hope you did because I miss
Everything about you dear
I hope you might just
Think of me sometimes
When times get tough
And words aren't enough
I can be your rock to hold you up
And I can be you anchor
To keep you grounded
You can be my muse
The subject of all my dreams
We can be a lot of things
Rapunzel is not one of them

The rails scream in the darkness
Sparking, lambent bulbs trace starlight behind tinted glass
No words, just motionless exhibition of man
Child
The shrill yapping of a terrified pup
Ears plugged from the disastrous din of metal rubbing against itself

The train flies through an evacuated tube pressed beneath the innumerable water column
And it is deafening.

Behind us the gentle shipyards, ahead the recipient city
Waiting to drink up our wallets and time with her promiscuous streets
As she bends her towering legs to the ironically Chinese
Barge
Blowing its baritone warning flutes
As it tugs itself upon her Bays.

I am reading the book, seeing the Brothers through the din, in between the two cities
The two unhappinesses
and the creatures they identify with

It is a giant artifact,
the tube
It protrudes through
The ships
She sunk and constructed
Market, Mission, Pier, a swamp of concrete
Over the dried clump of trees
A thousand bits of Theseus
And the abandoned bones of thirsting men
Running east, towards Pittsburg
Richmond
Warm Springs
The line is soft between these rusting zones
And the gold
Forgotten for silicone

I am reading a book
About brothers and the curse of stone
Sharing stares with dirogenous hobos
And girl's pupils
feasting on bodies hidden behind periodicals

The rails scream in protest
The railcars are turning up and out
Towards the end of the darkness
And the start of the largeness

The city waits to list her failures to me
To cry herself to sleep with raindrops of fog
And rasping breaths of breeze.