What's up?
He says to me
Oh, how I love queries like these
They seem to spread from mouth to mouth
Like a disease
Plain and simple
Concise.
Yet so fascinating to attempt to fully answer

"First the cieling
Then the sky:
The atmosphere of our planet,
Then space,
'The final frontier'
Extending outward, possibly to infinity,
Then perhaps the multiverse, if we are so lucky,
After that, who knows."

"But then again,
Up, down, left, and right
Don't really exist after all.
They are merely relative to where one stands on the Earth
All sense of direction melts away
Once you break through the atmosphere
But it may be difficult to tell where the atmosphere really ends
It's thick at the bottom, and slowly thins as you move outward
Until it is not there at all"

"But I'm probably wrong.
I'm probably wrong in every single way
Wrong in more ways than either of us
Could ever comprehend."

"We are so small.
Only human
But also so large"

It doesn't really matter though.

Dribbling drops from above,
sunken in cieling
seal skin smooth
saltfish nicely
butchered
bubbling

Floats and
sinks for
ocean floor
kisses
-coquetishly-

Can't stay too
long,

Hey, I'm Mister
Meeseeks,
look at me!
Can you finish cooking?

Can't exist too
long

Simple tasks in
order to give
them a quick
and proper
inevitable
heat death

Nearly four decades ago, nearly half a century
I walked Freedom Boulevard from
a lonely bus stop and as I drove there
the other day I saw a girl standing at one who could have been
me, in memory -- frozen

Would it still be there? One of my treasured childhood memories
Still living, not someone's brand new home, or a bunch of Villas in a gated community, lost
The land bleeds in California, but has started to scar over and forget the apple orchards
across the street from The Barn, where I used to ride, and now the houses are at least
covered in trees as nature tries to overtake the foreign, like in Cherenobyl

The big red barn sitting atop a small hill, crammed with horse paddocks now that
the little barns turned to condos.  But it is still there. Like magic, frozen in time.
The red barn, I walk in, it looks smaller than I remember
but the ***** brown cobwebs still cover the cieling and I am
nine years old again

Before I knew the boundaries of my gender
When I felt powerful, if neglected, strong and in charge
Before I knew the bindings of my ***
The limitations
I felt strong, and as I stand here,
I may as well be nine again, a single digit
And my fear melts away, and the lessons learned about my place
in the world evaporate
I stand, and look around at the barn nearly unchanged
and reclaim myself

this repetitive
this repetitive action
this repetitive action at night

when staring at the cieling
looking for, hoping for thoughts

instead it is an emotioneless stare
at the walls of your room

a tired stare, but not tired enough
to close your eyes

Arriving at work and fearing the day
My inner world destroyed and neglected
I would walk, and look for my guiding light
If you were there, the lights would be on
and I could see that long thin greenish light
from hundreds of feet away and it would be like
the lighthouse in the storm
and I would warm my tattered mind in it
know that I would see you

And it was always a disappointment
You don't care about me, only yourself, your job, your family
I am noticed for what I can do to help you with these things
Or for a brief ****** moment as you glance and flirt
Like a tasty little high

Today I walk, my eyes averted from your office
trying to soothe my shattered inner world
and take care of it like a wounded child
and build my own warmth
my own fire within
to nurture and sustain me.

The ceiling is talking to me and its getting personal.
And  I'm not  sure if  I wanna get this close to something
that's above me and holding me in.

Tomorrow has already gone by,
but  I am not quite there yet,
when yesterday is still fogging up the clock,
I wonder why I am somewhere in the middle of a place
I can't seem to wash off.

The ceiling's crying now,
I can't seem to get anything straight
something  about the  chipped paint and where I punched a hole in the wall
and the words I stapled with the glow in dark stars  above my head.
I can't remember where I put my feet and why I can't see the stars.

News Flash:
                     Religious Science has created life!
                     With heat and pressure
                     and Sounds Sounds Sounds!

                     Watch their lead-boy
                     dance and sing
                     recordings placed in his
                                    chest
                   ­  by People Who Know.

                    Listen close
                    to his strictures about what
                    is abominable
                    you can hear their voices
                    in the crackling gray
                    noise:
                    
            ­        The buzzing of cieling fans
                     in offices far away, Oz
                     The humming chatter of
                     "The maid found a dove
                     drowned in the pool!"
                     "Oh, how unsanitary,
                      truely abominable."

                      You really should see
                       him dance
                       in the Starstudded Ballroom
                       where the wicked pace
                       in the side-halls
                       dreaming of childhood summers
                       at the lake
                       and kisses in the morning.

                       Holy Science has smithed life!
                       Holy bullets smelted a fine
                       man.
                       Wholy Holey Holy Bullets.

I woke fron the depths of army men and poisoned spiders,
Lakes and oceans, home and heavens,
I woke to the slow musicled motions of a sick man,
Achily bending my head to the side for a glance at te clock.

I woke to crying, sobbing, the tears of my brother,
Yelling, frustration of my mother and father,
I woke in tear break, shaky and stolen, somber.

I crawled slowly out of bed,
Wading through water that no one sees, or feels,
Lips paper dry and mouth gaping in drought.
I wake to thirst.

Tea is delivered with a good natured sigh,
A complaint about over work, and a need to return to it,
A slight slump to ever tired shoulders and a gentle push back into bed with words that would be, gentler if you weren't just as exghausted as me ,
but lacking the sleep.

I sigh and lay semi paralyzed , staring at the cieling unseeingly, eyes blinking, slow snow.
I attempt relief from this bed again, knowing returned sleep will grant me more nightmares,
And I sigh, slowly pulling myself to a standing,
My head pounds and my stomach aches.

I attempt to sip at tea,
And I burn my lips?
Startled by this reality I wobble, not managing my mundane task,
I whimper, tears of thin skinned surprise in my eyes,
And slowly, so slowly,
Return to bed.

Peering down from a terrestial heap,
contemplating the debate at the seams,
exposing dim lights and the ones asleep.

I sat awake, in solitude, lost like a sheep.
Per(re?)ceiving all the secrets in ones dreams;
beneath the veil, and the ones that we keep.

What the bars in ones mind are made of are cheap:
confining and containing what one can gleam
from the empty gaps and the mental leaps.

I hope those objects and night-lights help you sleep;
Plato's shadowy projections move with moonbeams,
the brimful moon ebbing causes the shadows to creep.

The farside is bare, in twilight;
the mind becomes a maverick:
turning fireflies to winking sprights.

Can you regard all that I see
when you dream with eyes-closed?
And In your dream do people speak in poem or prose?

Are you transmitting dimensions of three
or are you given your dreams?

Do you wonder who contains those moments
and where they are received?

If heaven is dreaming nigh
I wonder what we would be

If God sent a message
what might be the presage;
And what might be the conveyance?

When you're dreaming Angels touch the ground,
revealing all that is bound.
~dancing with the beyond~
And (angels) evaporate in the dawn, or atleast seeming..

Let your eyes unlock~
Quick! The Gates are sealing
Run to recapture all that they've been stealing:
From all those who wish to lower your cieling.

---

A gypsy is whistling who's been up all night.
The dreams of many slip into hidden spaces:
Closets and under the bed; spirits dissipate.

As morning's light eminates
What do you see?

They enter my office
and I am their landfill
They take a cozy seat
on my blue heartbroken couch
They unload all of their garbage
One by one
a banana peel of tears
an alluminum leftover
of regret
and as their tainted trash
piles to the cieling
I take it all from them
with nothing in return
I offer them a clean towel
and an uncluttered
clear hope
And I genuinely
love them for it

I will take all of your dirt
and brown disgust
you've held in bins
all these years
once a week
as long as you want
my beautiful dears

Home all alone in here suffocating sorrow
Not afraid to die, but afraid to face tomorrow.
The cieling caved in, the white couches turned black
She kept walking away, afraid to turn back
She teared as she passed the seventh step
She began to tumble, while in time the world crumbled.
The ghosts of her past did rightfully chase her
Pursuing her conscience, of that they all made sure
Her world turned grey and fuzzy as she fell through the air
She reached out for the railing, what she found was nothing there
Her heart skipped a beat as she fell to the ground
Her mind was in shock and her head right spun around
Just one faithful step is all it did take
To turn her away and make a heart break
Her last fleeting thoughts before her head hit the tile
Was life wasn't fair, but she fell with a smile
Her lips were angled upwards, corners to the sky
Because she imagined that if she would die
She would float up to heaven and once more see her mother
Finally, they both would reunite with each other
Her head hit the ground and her world turned to black
She lay on the floor with her jaw lying slack
Two days passed 'til her father got home
His flight was delayed so he stopped off in Rome
"Beth" he cried out "I'm back from my trip"
Quite unaware of the unfortunate slip
He hadn't heard from her, not a call or a text
He could never have expected the thing he saw next
Lying unconscious was his beautiful daughter
Bruised on the head and lacking of water
He rushed to her side and cried "Bethany!"
He felt for her heartbeat and counted to three
A distant little pulse did periodically sound
His daughter was not lost, but really she was found
In 25 minutes they were in the ER
Her eyes opened up but she couldn't see far
"I need 20 C.Cs" the doctor said "Now!
This girls gonna make, but I don't know how"
Her father sat nervously in the waiting room
Waiting to hear if the results were of doom
He held his face up with his work-ridden hands
He felt his life slipping like small grains of sand
First was his wife, and now was his child
One could surmise that his feelings weren't mild
It was only right now, that his daughter was dying
He realized that to his own self he'd been lying
He'd neglected, and this time was the last
No longer was he still the man of his past
If she could survive this horrific incident
He knew as a father he'd be much more competent
For now all he could do was play the waiting game
A thing which he hated right down to the name
Against his will, he fell in to a sleep
His mind started drifting and his dreaming went deep
His daughter was well and he said "Beth, I love you"
She said, "Dad, you're dreaming, but I know that this loves true"
She reached out and put her arms round his shoulder
He should have felt warm but instead he felt colder
Her hands shook him violently and she screamed "Wake up!"
He opened his eyes and stared into a cup
The doc handed him some liquid and said "here, drink this"
He said it was juice but it tasted like ****
"Enough with these, games, is my daughter alright?"
"I'm sorry," he said "but you'll have to sit tight"
And so he sat tightly for hours on end
He sat still until he could no longer defend
And just at the moment when he thought he would die
The door opened up and he let out a sigh
The doctor was smiling, it was quite plain to see
He said "Alright Jon, please come in with me"
He came in the room which was blindingly white
And he saw the one thing that made his whole night
"Daddy?" asked Beth with a tear in her eye
He blinked to make sure that his eyes did not lie
"Oh honey, I'm so glad your well," he said
"for a moment it looked liked you'd turn out to be dead"
"Its alright dad," she said with a smile
"Everythings fine now, so please, stay a while"
"From now on, I know I must be a better dad
I never did realize that I made you so sad.
You're mother is gone, but I still have you
I need to stop taking that for granted, it's true"
He reached out for her and held her in his arm
"From now on, I'm here to protect you from harm"
Outside the window rain fell to the ground
It flew through the air but made never a sound
Lifes never fair, and neither's the weather
But atleast Jon and Beth are still happ'ly together

And it's about that time of year and time of day where my mind is a place to stay away from
Stear clear of it when you see me on the sidewalk and cross the street to avoid me like I exude the fear I feel inside
What if I can't make it to tomorrow because tomorrow never comes
What if all this false confidence I claim fades away to show my true face and I'm terrified
That I can't love quite right because my love comes from inside and my insides are turned inside out with how I feel right now
And it's the moments where I'm laying in bed and staring at the constant cycle of the blades of my cieling fan wondering a thousand and three different things
Chief umong them being my own ability to cope
I've playing pretend that I'm okay for a few years now when does fake it till you make it kick in
I'm scared of how my life seems to go nowhere at such a terrifying pace I'm wondering
How I'll survive

i stare at the cieling
can't see much
except the vent...for heat and such
the floor of the attic ..creaks a bunch
am i losing my mind....am i out of touch
im scared to death....because it's late
no one around
to share my hate.......
the glow of light streaks through my door
theres some one walking across the floor.....
i'm now in the fetal
there's no way this is real
if all are asleep
who is the creep
walking the attic....in its bare feet....
noise getting louder...i cover my head
almost wishing i were already dead....
the shrieks and the moans...cant take any more
please mr. ghost
this is no way to cool
oh...moms waking me up
it's time for school....

The world I live in
is quite small.
I live all alone
Just me and the walls
The dust on the cieling
The air chached in bunches
sit patient in corners
waiting for luncheon.
I feed them my time
by standing in places
that have gone untouched
suspended in stasis.

But one day I'll die
and my friends will die with me
because it's all in my head

and boy is that ******.

On the couch
Me wrapped up in you
Like some present in the back of a Christmas movie
Heartbeat
Against my skin
This
Must be what it is

On the way home
My head in your lap
Wrapped in the soft blanket you brought so I wouldn't get cold
Staring at the cieling of your father's truck
Your face staring at me in my peripheral vision
Could be the 6th night in a row
That we have been together
And we both know it won't last forever
But your smile sends a shiver down my spine
And I never knew what it looked like
I'd never seen it
Maybe I could imagine it
But I never tried
With you
It came so easy
And I know everyone says that
The same way everyone says it gets better...

I come home
And let out a big sigh
This must be

What love looks like.

It's sort of funny in the saddest way.
To find pieces of myself in a man that was never really a part of my life at all.
I wish I knew you well enough to have memories other than playing trivia at a table by the bar watching you stay well past last call.
Fighting with your wife over who would drive home.
Spending every other weekend you had with me staring at the bottom of empty bottles.
And slurring "I love you's" like I might believe them.
Isn't it all I ever wanted?
To be loved by you?
And does anything ever really change?
Can people really change?
You were sober for 5 years after you almost lost your life.
But now I keep waking up to drunk text messages.
Parallel to your drunken confessions in the middle of the night while six year old me tried to comfort you.
Biting my tongue and staring at the cieling fan so I wouldn't cry.
I don't have to hide the tears anymore because you're in another city and I won't ever tell you how bad you hurt me.
But Dad I keep letting men hurt me who tell me they love me at 2 am and I wish I didn't feel like it's because of you.

Freddy is brown
Puppet is no-face
Get out of the cieling
before i go realing