Some say they can't remember
    the details of their dream.
I think I can.
They might be wrong
    and fuzzy
    and a little plotless.
But I adore them.

They are what my mind
doesn't think
    in waking times.
    They are strange.

They are so beautifully strange.

That double crescent moon bite mark
That Thom made on my arm
To show me he was, "*****."

Those five purple fingerprints
That Riley left, to remind me
My pants? Gone last night.

That weird, mysterious oval
On the inside of my thigh.
...Was that Kelsey or Nyssa?

That tiny yellow mark that splotched my eyebrow
From when I ran into a telephone pole
—completely sober.
Tyler still mocks me about that.

That blood red under-eye
That made me realize
We all get hit.

That Texas-shaped purple-to-yellow transition
That screamed to me,
We all heal.

I am nothing compared to your past.
You are everything, even with your flaws.
I love all of you.
Every problem and addiction,
makes my love dig deeper another foot.

My favorite is your insomnia.
How we stay up talking—
albeit on the phone.
Hours go well spent as we break the midnight barrier.

I am not your lover.
I am not even your best friend.
But I love you.
I love your random fits of ADHD,
and your strength through your past.
I love your drug addiction and insomnia.
They make you, you.

And you, you are beautifully flawed.

My ears ring.
My mind vibrates.
I answer the call of

another life.

The world was once flat.
People were once Gods.
Myths were once fact.
Earth was once the center of our universe.
People were once owned.
We once believed in innocence.
Continents once did not exist.

Now we **** for convenience,
Hurt for pleasure,
Cry without pain,
Leave behind those who might burden with their grief,
Inflict tragedies without meaning.
We have been wrong before, why is now so different?
Fact has been proven fiction, fiction proven fact.
What makes us think that we can see now, if we were once so blind?
Knowledge is power, but ignorance is just as.
Are we, or are we not? Can we make sense of our world before it is gone?
That is the one question that is neither fact nor fiction,
Which is precisely why it needs an answer never found.

peace at last have i seen
in a dream she came to me
She spoke to me so pure
staying up, long lonely nights
waiting to hear her voice
sweet music to my ears i say
please love hear my plight
first i fought for freedom
as i fought through pain
but now i fight for your love
and hope you do the same
though tragity struck
at an undecent time
i love her more than ever
i awake from this dream
and lay under the stars
upon my tank i look straight up
above me is the moon
its beauty bringing forth the memories
that i have yet to share with her

She was the moon.
Fair, serene, and powerful.
He was the sun.
Luminous, warm, and strong.
Unknowingly chasing each other around the globe,
Growing weary,
Becoming hopeless,
Until an eclipse.
And the whole world stopped to watch,
as the pair met in the ebony sky.

The quiet color gray
Is bashful and shy
Doesn't have much to say
And likes to be passed by

Lives to dance
Between colors and hues
But when given the chance
Gray can impress you.