Too many things that can't be explained.
It can fill a room up with questions.
My suggestion,
it's unexplained and out of body.
Like matter in confined space,
and human spieces.
But what matters is we find peace,
and as a matter of thesis,
how do we pick up the pieces?

You're the type of person that wakes up before light,
because you refuse to be ruled by the sun.
You also secretly trust no one.
From what I can tell,
and this is just someone
from the inside looking out,
your high standards in friendships often leave you sad and alone.
It makes sense why you do not let people stand behind you.
Thus, why you are always last.
You love in a way unimaginable to man,
But yet you can not seem to commit to anyone.
I wonder if it is that you don't truly love who you are. (see real definition of unconditional)
I wonder if it's because you can not see growing old with another,
Mixed with fears of aging yourself.
I suppose you would rather die alone.
Always threatening to jump ship,
So when it sinks( and it will)
you are not on it.
I can tell in your language that you just recently started loving your body.
That happens when it's being pl̶e̶a̶s̶u̶r̶e̶d̶ treasured correctly.....to be continued

I have a friend named Gary, and he has been feeling a bit low during the holiday season, so i wrote a song/poem for him hoping it will cheer him up.  In my best voice, i will sing this to him at our friendsgiving.

Garyyyy
Would you like to maryyyy?
An ordinaryy.
And somewhat hairyyy!
Please will you tell mee!
Ohhhhh Garyyy.
Will you pop my cranberryyy?
Just don't be scaryy.
But i love you barelyyy.
So let's just be merryy.
And drink lots of dairyy.
On the contraryyy.
Lets just be marriieedd!
I love you Garyyy.
No, not you Larryyy.
My good friend Garryy.

Dark times
Coming around again.
Wet face
The only way to sleep again.
My heart has traveled in
Dark waters
Coming up for air,
Nothing but rain again.
Afraid of the silence
Lonliness back again.
This never ending road.
Aching soles again
Taking shots
Shooting pains through me
Bullet proofing
Vest wearing days again
On my knees ,
calling out
Time to repent again
Throwing rocks and
Ruptured housing
Glass in pieces again
Soaked up the gin
Im so so lost again
Trying to get out of it
Too late
Sinning again.

Enter Summer! Hi how you doin?
Nice to see you again.

But, Ummm
can you perhaps bring back
the man,
whose face was not tan,
a mysterious lad.
No two o'clock shadow
No stubble
No fuzz.
Just winter in hand
and oh my bearded man.
I miss him terribly.
Stupid solstice.

He said I always talked over him. And it annoys him. He never spoke to me like that before.
I said, "I do"?
I didn't think I was doing it, but I apologized any way.
Because that's what you do when you love someone.
But inside i was boiling with rage.
I wanted to lash out at the ANNOYING bit,
But then that would prove the very thing he's accusing me of.
Can't have that.
So I keep it inside bottled up.
I can't talk to him the same now.
Maybe my feelings were hurt.
Over the weeks i felt frozen.
Forced smiles and skipping favorite shows together.
The *** was still amazing, unfortunately
Im starting to think that's all we were good at.
All i know is something had changed.
And it hasn't been the same since.

Scared to be alone again.
Scared to be on my own.
Scared of living within.
Terrified of time wasted.
And time is scary,
Terrifying if you waste it.

This song makes me feel alive.
Not happy to be.
Except it questions my purpose of being.
Whatever instrument that is,
It's strumming on my head.
Telling me to wake up and live.
I just close my eyes to get closer to his voice.
The song is for me only.
He asks "are you going to save me?"
I intend to answer him on the other side of my dream.
He's there in color with no face.
But he's out of reach.
He's only there to play this song for me.
To keep me alive.

I respect your flow.
Truth. Do me a favor though.
Make peace. Bring rainbows.

One thousand years of trees will be standing
And my love for you
It will always go timber
In December,
your limbs kept me warm after dark
I remember,
A light shined so bright
We sparked.
My bearded man,
We flew, at best,
and into history went the rest
Unless, Even if,
One million years of trees stood standing limber
My love for you,
it would always go timber.

One a day,
Keeps the blues at bay.
Write on a stormy day.
Brainstorm if you will.
Start where you left off.
Come back to it.
Use it for a rainy day,
Let that be today.
Sleep on it.
Don't force it,
Put a stamp on it,
Don't post it, just write.
Let it be. Unfinished.
Untitled.
Undecided.
Erase, blow, sweep. Repeat.
Revise it.
Make a prize of it.
Let out a whimper and be loud.
Know where you're going.
Say it in ink.
Let your fingers guide you.
And be ready ,
For tomorrow .

If only the vivid images would translate so well
to paper as they do in my dreams,
then maybe one day,
I could paint it for you.
Maybe someday we could both relate better.
If only your scriptured words could lure me into submission,
as they do in your dreams,
then possibly you could sing a song from it.
And hopefully we can dance a little more.
Like before.

Death is being in solitude forever.
Just you.
All this space has claimed you, there are no walls to tear down.
You will never hear another voice cry.
Or bring yourself to sing.
Because the lonliness has robbed you of a perfect pitch.
And even if you could.
There is no right word to say.
You will never leave your mark on anyone again.
The only touch you will remember is your own.
You will never smile again.
And yes, this life will age you.
What life?
Wishing you to be under 6 feet,
Waiting to be reborn.
So you can relish in beauty once again.

I look good in this mirror, look closer
It's only because nothing is lit up.
Background black.
Forbidding those to see beneath my scaley skin.
My eyes were meant to be gazed upon,
If for too long, like Madusa said,
Man turns to stone,
But off with her head.
My voice has remnants of sweet birds in the morning,
Or like soundscapes before bed.
Just look beneath me, you'll see
Things are empty.
Nothing but a sad sad piano playing,
Tip toeing in your ear.
Be weary of me.
Stand clear.
Beware of me.

Just focus on the word.
It's been said to you.
So you've already used the sense of hearing.
Maybe it's been read to you.
When you see it, love connects to the brain,
using an abundance of senses now.
You visualize love.
I'm talking to you there.
Don't forget to write Love down.
Study its form.
Express it, put it into action.
You'll remember it better that way.

6'
Brown eyes
deep voice
Killer smile
A genius
Big hands
ambition
*** in the morning
flirts in the day
blowing at midnight
repeat the previous three
for days
sexting for fun
dating
loving you
hating me
making up
bonuses
ripped *******
being still
sweating on me
sweaters on you
begging
WRITING
starting over
wasted paper
dried ink
mental blocks
using you
one more line
one more sip
One more time
just right
for me

I'm drowning.
Air needs me.
At lease someone needs me.
There's no one around to save me,
ever.
Not you, not them,
just misery by my side.
A few more seconds,
and it's over.
No more kicking, splashing,
or muffled screams,
just black filled lungs.
Food for the fish,
as the ocean and I become one.
Maybe it's not so bad.
Being led by the moon.
Digressing by nature.
Ascending!
Only to crash again.

There is someone inside of me.
Soaking up Gin.
Basking in sin.
Believe me
it's not I that's living this life.
And i think i had a one-night-kiss.
It was glorious.
There i was sat in his car,
Listening to Nina sing about sin.
Which started at my lips.
Breathing on me, kissing my cheek,
He rubbed his lips on my chin,
and tickeled them down to my neck,
Like "what the heck".
Is he doing this foreal.
Then like a theif in the night,
never to be heard from again.

I think I'm floating on a bed of stars
Casually being carried off to Mars
But at least it's not to Jupiter
Where I would become more stupider.
As if the ladder could be true though
I might just disappear like Pluto

I don't want someone in my world
who wishes to be perfect.
Because that means they will look to me to be perfect as well.
I refuse to carry this.
Life is already too much.
I can not be judged by them.
Who are they anyway?
I have all of these "flaws" that I embrace because it unstresses me to know.
I get to wake up everyday and be myself. The only person I've  known for all of these years.
I have tried to fake it.
I always fail, and I never fail.
So my resentment for you is alive.
And then,
I look to the corner of my wicked eye,
which forces my hand to judge.
And ****** you.
Hoping one day,
the person you were meant to be resurfaces.

I seem to only live in seconds.
Second child bearing.
Dining in
second plates,
Wearing second hand garb.
Wait a second bus!
My clocks second hand too slow.
Third child born,
living second child syndrome.
The first of my kind,
still only second best.
And for the record, I second that!
I seem to only live in seconds.
Rise in fog and clouds,
and a split second rain.
Or let me think for a second.
Could be second hand smoke.
And when the time comes,
to end that very small space in time,
I'll be ready.
In a second.

It can be a beautiful thing.
If only the lonely could see.
You are invisible, but it's clear to us,
so soon forgotten, yet we remember
how much tomorrow needs you.
You could be someone's true beauty,
If only we loved things truly.
It won't always cast it's grin upon us,
and OH! how the mind gets cloudy.
But we will never revolt from your smile.
A smile that relinquishes energy to the sun,
giving it a brand new light,
and so many benefit from it.
You're much like an exotic bumblebee.
If only my T could see.
Infecting us with your queen like disposition,
so coy,
with no wonder of how we replenish from your deed.
If only the lonely could see.
You are a beautiful thing.

A desired lip will always say what it wants.
It feasts on personal gain, caring little for the needy.
Nor does it care to have mercy on an aching heart.
The wanted only seem to hold dear to them
their own interests, while
some of our most precious moments are ripped out from under us, and
it triggers an unequivocal effect of some kind.
A great consequence.
All the while thinking of what we've become.
But the answer never satisfies us,
so we just continue being ghosts in our own bodies.
We don't dare express our mood of circumstances,
in fear of being banished into solitude.
And to eternity we continue to carry on in someone else's solipsism.

My favorite quote by Marianne Williamson

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

Come on! You can do it!
Be what they want young man.
You must learn to topple over heads
in your best boots.
Sell parts of you each time
but who cares, you're the best at this.
Dignity will grow back.
You can't be some ordinary nobody.
Think of never a fair day,
you have to be that.
You'll smile a lot and mask it all.
But it's fine because, you truly are happy.
You're happy.
There are no rules,
so you can cheat to get things, to get ahead.
For survival, a head is just what you climb on.
A mere platform for success.
Be happy for yourself.
You deserve it.

I knew I was commander of the high seas.
If you cast me a fib,
I'll invite you to ******* tears.

Nothing lasts,
Just ask the past.
Things fall apart,
so splashing your forever in high fashion seeks some understanding.
It's only lost minutes waisted.
Not even this brief brevity of life
can lengthen a breath.
And we shall both inhale our last goodbye.
Try holding it forever,
it's always,
it's constant,
It's morning, noon, and night.
Just ask the past,
nothing lasts.
It's a continuous permanent,
so enjoy your forever never.

One can easily take that pungent taste on their tongue
and turn it into an emotion.
But it will only describe that who is you. In truth.
She is so carefully crafted, not a true wordsmith,
but with a scornful mouth indeed.
And her language cuts deep in others,
but her pain showing as volatile and misleading.
A sensation so subjective,
that it needs no signal from the brain.
Taking her is similar to a hint of arugula
and a side of unwanted dill, or the lack of water
while swallowing a pill.
The self-pitty only flies with birds.
There is no beauty in antagonistic pride.
It only furthers the alienation.
And there is no life jacket
when drowning in animosity and resentment.
Which is bittersweet in my opinion.

It's getting so hot on this block,
makes me want to take my stripper tips,
and make it rain on all you mother fu**ers.

I'll give you my best reflections before dawn.
It seems,
I am not capable of mirroring my feelings
in the presence of the sun.
I can not compete. Only when the day is done.
My true self flies with the great owls.
It lies with howling beasts and crawling things.
It is where I make my own stars,
because black skies deserve more than just
living in the shadows of a starry night.
There are games to be played like, I spy a crescent.
Although my first genuine breath was at day break,
I will always be a product of the night.

And I'm just trying


               to make sense


                                   of it all.

As if I couldn't be more envious of your perfect sky.
Or how your eyes align with remnants of the sun.
And not just any sun,
On Sundays when that golden dusk comes so late.
The last hour of night looks like fire works
crashing at the end of the ocean.
Intolerant of your reddish warm scent,
set to cause any blood ******* thing
to parish in his love for you.
It truly causes my begrudgingly mind to ponder.
It is no wonder that I am jaundiced
by your ability to capture mans heart
in your florescent sap.
Oh Amber,
Free me from my jealous behavior.
Deem me not zealous,
but in favor of your yellowish center
fixed in oldeander,
my sweet, sweet amber.

On this cold floor,
I am nothing but your interpretation.
In this bed,
I am but a canvas for you to work on.
I am not amused by this,
but a muse by nature.
A force of art.
A possible goddess if you allow it.

On this Cold morning,
you are nothing but my interpretation.
In this bed,
you are but a means to keep me warm.
You are not amused by me,
but confused by nature.
A body for me to lay on.
A possible future if I allow it.

But today,
On this cold floor,
I am everything.
Everything but obscure.

After the cold war,
you pressed your fingertips
on my back to get warm.
With respect to those tender moments,
I couldn't be some casualty.
I refused to be.
I'd rather die on the battlefield.

I think I'm still in love with you.
I know this because,
like that stupid saying, I let you go.
I let you fly from my grip.
And although you've come back to me,
you're so different now.
Same tone, different smile.
It's just a new day, different style.
The problem is that you don't infect me anymore.
Your words, they dont affect people like before.
I blame you.
You let me stay gone for so long.
But life got in the way, you see.
I often remember our first time together.
I was only 14...
To make a long story short,
it was statutory for sure.
I'm hoping there will be fewer days like this.
Waiting around for our time to resurface.

It's about time someone sees me.
In my  poor sullen  efforts to give up,
you saw my broken wings.
You said they glowed in the night.
I had dreams of being chosen.
Chosen to fly to you.
Finally ,
a being worth more than lust.
Only he recognizes the purpose
of my creation.
It was so magical,
the way our true selves transformed
into one light.
Shining simultaneously.
It is to keep us lit
through dark times. In a whisper,
they will come.
I felt it just then my love.
It sang a melody far greater
than any love song.
It was real.
It's about time someone needs me.
Finally,
feelings of my heart lifted.
Any higher,
it would burn next to the sun.
But, what is pain,
if I'm with you.

"Your emerald eye is much like mine",
I said to her one Sunday in May.
Her pout performed a perfect kiss
to ask,
"when did your life begin?"
As I burned my eyes
into her lips,
I replied,
"Just today"
Seeing her looking at me
with that naked smirk
I knew I had not been born
until just then.
I walked around her body,
smelling her ****** scent.
A memory emerged
from 1980,
when I'd swing from our tree
in a black hole.
Her presence,
so deliberate,
so calculating.
Her voice,
so inviting,
so commanding.
Too familiar to me,
I demanded her name,
in passing.
After asking,
she walked into me,
and I immediately,
witnessed her air.
I knew right there.
For I am her,
and she is I.
Ode to my Gemini.

Soon,
      
         people will ask,


                  "What is a land line for"?

Some memories i never write about, means they didn't happen.

In hindsight,
my vision has always been unorthodox,
but, it sees true.

Through any eyes,
the bering sea will always be solitude.
A place where no man should see it's depths,
A peculiar place that intrigues me,
but is forever denied my happiness.

I only stay afloat this place,
so that the sun keeps me partially alive,
and for Pete's sake,
my lungs remember their purpose.

If I am perfect, it's only because
my short comings have drifted
underwater to an imperfect place.

When I become tired of you, I take a nap.

I hold my breath in your presence.
Remembering your smell,
when you come around,
it's like a bullet to my insides.
That trigger so lightly pulled,
could have been meant for my heart.
Thanks to you,
I am forced to wear a vest on days like these.

In this extreme heat,
I am suspect of people,
who wear leather coats.

Almost one o'clock,

                      Insomnia doesn't rock

                         Tickety- toc- doc

Dear Solomon,

Ever since I sensed you smelled of scents,
I've been acting sick.
Not myself, not silly.
Someone else, really
It sends me in to a solitary rage.
A severe-sadistic-rage.
In need of sanctuary
In deed, if saturated with such things,
nothing but sin will grow from the seed.
Saints could fly over us,
if they so choose.
But, no saving us from our sad,sad souls.
And what we sowed, seeped out and showed.
It's floating above the stench of us in suspension.
And we bought what they sold.
Nothing salvaged.
Sadly, im so gone.
Sorry.


Sincerely,
Sasha

Old ***** popping out,
watching young girls walk like ******.
wish I could say more.

There I was,
smiling with out you,
breathing regular,
a good size,
in my eyes.
I was effortlessly exuding
my freedom,
with my two close friends,
Will and Power.

Not even the next hour,
there you were,
poisoning my flow,
with words,
I didn't think you would even know.

What a good hook,
that must have been,
because if you look,
I am back in your nook.
Back in the  position.
Back in your lap,
turning back the pages,
to this dramatic book.

If only I didn't have these memories.

As I sat down to write something,
the doorbell rang.
It was a partial ring.
As if not fully pushed is what I mean.

My eyes averted left,
where I saw a boy run.
Green shirt,
very fast, dark like me.
Not lucky for him,
I had just cleaned my windows.

Inside I laughed. My face showed it.
Refusing to run after.
He's a kid.
I'm old.
And I wasn't properly dressed.
So inappropriate.
Oh yes!
That's why I didn't retrieve him just then.

I did catch up to him moments later.
He was so shaken.
To be brief, the boy left
in laughter.
I was not mad with him.
I was puzzled.
Sat thinking, I thought doorbell ditching was a thing of the past.
I was almost honored.
I will probably never see him again.

Overcast today

Cloud's eyes watching me again

Rain on me, ill stay.

Does anyone really like it at the top?
For one, it's too high.
It gets too much sun.
And there is always a chance of mutiny.
Ill settle for some shade.
I can't be last though.