There are many things that humans touch,
in the sea, in the sky, and the land.
There are many things that humans touch,
and build, and travel in, and stand.

The neon lights shine proud through the darkness.
The planes fly high, distant sound.  
The freeway buzz keeping humans moving on,
Lives revolve on borrowed ground.

There, through the crack in the steel grey cement,
A dandylion delicately stands.
It flourishes with a gentle force,
that is stronger than anything touched by man.

There are many things that humans touch,
in the sea, in the sky, and the land.
The one thing that no human can touch,
is mother nature’s hand.

Tired hands, green eyes
Breathing out, white lies
Soft lips, blue skies

Small room, big world
Lines straight, sight blurred
Same love, new girl

And she'll say
He's stuck in a daydream
Been in love since 18
Allibys breaking the seams

But he'll say
She's beautiful blankly
Burning down gently
Till she screams.

There’s something about the harmonica that gets me every time.

Maybe, it’s the simplicity.
Maybe, it’s the rhythm and blurred notes that form a hazy melody.
Maybe, it’s the whistling of inherent sadness.

But for me, it touches something deeper.
Some intrinsic instinct that connects music to our souls.

To me, the harmonica is a promise.

A promise that anybody can learn something new and can make a little dent of a sound in this big universe.

A promise that there is a whole world out there to see. Small hands, big hands, blue or wrinkled hands can play the harmonica.

No matter where you are in your journey, the harmonica will always sound inescapably like a harmonica.

Maybe that shiny, metal box is just the kind of pocket-sized assurance I need.

5 o' clock on a Tuesday,
73 and sunny once again.
The 10's crawl is killing the patrons,
who fight for a glimpse of the end.

The blur of insanity,
reduced to a sigh.
A hundred years of living
keeps  passing you by.

It all goes bye.

But I’ll stay.
And I’ll fight,
for the beauty and magic,
to reach for the sky.
And I’ll stay.
And I’ll fight,
the demons and angels
That keep me alive tonight.

I think it’s human nature to spend a whole life wanting something. Searching, looking, working for something more.
We spend 10 hours a day half haphazardly bent over the iridescent glow of a computer gazing into a pool of knowledge beyond our wildest dreams.

Looking, searching, working towards something greater. Right now is never enough.

There’s problems to be solved, stories to be told, and bills to be paid.

As I stare into the darkness, a single light barely illuminates a circle of smiling faces. Staring, waiting, hoping out of the kindness of their hearts, that I get exactly what I wish for.
As I squeeze my eyes shut, an overwhelming loud and enchantingly out of tune melody escapes from the guests mouths as I blow out the candles.

And in that fraction of a second, I feel like a fraud. I feel quite guilty. Because as tradition goes, there must be a wish.

But I have none.

In that moment, I realize everything I’ve ever wanted is standing right there in front of me.

And when you realize you have everything you’ve ever wished for, what happens next?

The night comes alive, the look in your eyes
like poison disguised as wine.

Fire runs through my veins
Like fools gold I'm memorized.

The sound of your voice slips down my throat,
your hands at the small of my back.

The room spins around again and again,
visions once light fade only to black.

Some people just have this hold on your heart and won’t let go.

Time, it doesn’t cure that. Sometimes the grip loosens, only to be unexpectedly and uncontrollably tightened again. And you learn to live with it, but it never gets any easier.

Sometimes the most simple things can be the hardest to overcome. It defies logic and reason and time.


I’ll forever be in love with you.

Through all of the uncertainty, insufferable agony , and betrayal, I’ll forever be in love with you. It’s that kind of love that reaches deep down. It’s in my body, my blood, and my bones. It is in my soul. There’s only a certain kind of love that can take you over, and as many times as I picked myself up, running faster, getting stronger, and bigger, I can’t out run you. But I can’t live with you.

I’m suspended between hoping for something that I will never have, and having something I’ve never hoped for.

I’m suspended between waiting for time to heal heartache, and knowing that heartache can’t outrun the time.