I think we get along best
when we breathe,

no words, no touch,
no sleep,
wide eyed and thinly tailed,
but living in a dream

Yeah, I think we get along best
when we breathe

no clock, no job,
no need,
bright eyed and nailed in wood,
but more than what we used to be

I think we get along best
when we breathe

I think we get along best
when we breathe

*Cant you see?
All we need
is to breathe

This is a story,
a story not worth mentioning,
but here I am,
here I sit,
more than willing
to spread its fire
to the furthest corner
of the earth

with the sole intention
of starting over again,
a new castle made
from the ash

It begins with a smile,
an enigma of the highest order,
a smile that could stop time,
freeze it with the force
of a star
stuck at the furthest point
away from the sun

The smile belonged to a girl
with broken wings,
and try as she might,
she could never leave
the confines of his dream

The boy, green eyed and defiant,
grew up knowing nothing,
for he was raised
by his own two feet,
a beautiful tragedy
like no one
has ever seen


He traveled the world
in search of comfort,
comfort which he new not
how to describe,
for it would only visit
him in dreams,
at only a certain time
each night



I wonder what it tastes like,
does it have a smell?
Is it something I can hold,
is it something I can share?

Will it bite upon my arrival,
does it have a life of its own?
Can it leave at anytime,
does it even exist at all?

Traveling through the forest,
one step at a time
the sun decided
to show it's face,
and it's lovely
little shine

When the rays broke through
the fear lines of the clouds,
and danced around
the tree line
down to the ground
The little girl appeared
without so much
as a sound

Centuries condensed to seconds,
magic taking breath
right before his eyes
He knew not what to say,
or whether to laugh
or cry

No words were spoken,
no birds softly sang.
the earth had stopped spinning,
no blood pumped to vein

In that moment,
he was free,
lost in the smile
of the girl with broken wings

It was all he could do
not to wake up
but wake up,
he did indeed

''Twas but a fleeing dream,
a dream he'll never catch

or turn into reality

I think I died the other night

Nothing out of the ordinary,
just another day full
of the same old ****

It's a full time job,
ya know,
hating yourself*,

I should get paid
for my magnificent talent
of self-sabotage

Never a dull moment
in a world filled
with Seattle gray rainbows

sarcasm implied

I fell asleep rather quickly
the night it happened
Or the night
I think it happened

I had the same old nightmares,
I woke up the same too,
cold but sweating,
out of breath and panting

Same old ****

I walked out to the porch
to continue my long walk
to lung cancer,

lit a cigarette
and wiped the sleep
from my eyes

Low and behold,
the sky wasn't gray,
it was a beautiful something,

I could only describe it as
such, I mean ****,
I have nothing to compare it to

The lake was reflecting the sun
in such a way
that I felt as though

butterflies were clawing
at my insides

These were no normal
butterflies though,
they had to have
been on MDMA or something

Each flap of a wing
sent chills radiating
throughout my body,
throughout my very soul

I woke that morning,
and life was beautiful

I must've died that night
because my first thought
of the day didn't consist
of an inward hate

Someone punch me
in the ******* face
so I know this is real

Please?

Do you ever feel stuck,

like the ground is glued
to the bottom
of your shoes,
or the clouds never move
despite having
every reason to

And your friends never stop
running circles
around you,
moving like a picture trail,
capturing every
last one of their accomplishments
just to compare it
to the empty trophy shelf
gathering cobwebs
in your living room

Do you ever feel stuck,

like the world is spinning
around you,
faster and faster
and it's all you can do
not to sleep
the days away,
finding some comfort
in closed eyes and nightmares

anything but the spins

I would compare this
feeling to quicksand,
but even then,
you're still going
somewhere

even if it is down

even if it is to an untimely end

Do you ever feel stuck

like there is no beginning,
and there is no end

This poem has neither,
in most regards,
it doesn't exist

So I'll leave you with
an incomplete sentence

Stuck....*

A proper ending,
if there ever were one

I've yet to find
more comfort in life
than when I sit
by the river, alone,
headphones in,
blasting some obscure band,
drowning out the chaos
of the world
in three minute intervals

The bittersweet view
of the still water,
shopping carts acting
as sunken ships,
the captain obviously
denied the cliche
of destroying himself

he's nowhere to be found

Like me

Plastic bottles and grocery bags
floating aimlessly,
remains of something
once so satisfying,
now nothing more than
a potential act of homocide

I pray for the animal
or fish that makes the mistake
of giving in to curiosity,
more than likely,
the cat will get
what's coming to em'

It's still beautiful though,
despite my racing thoughts,
despite the decay,
both internally and externally,

it's still beautiful

Such is life, I suppose

The destruction of beauty,
the beauty of destruction

Both, ever present,
eternal,

*and breathing