.
                                 Playdough
                             Playdough Play
                           dough Playdough
                         Playdough  Playdou
                           Playdough     Play
                           dough Playdough
                           Playdough     Play
                           dough Playdough
                            Playdough    Play
                            Dough Playdough
                            Playdough     Play
                            Dough  Playdough
                            Playdough     Play
                            Dough  Playdough
                             Playdough     Play
                            Dough  Playdough
                            Playdough      Play
                            Dough  Playdough
                   Playdough          Playdough
            Playdough Play   dough  Playdough
           Playdough   Play   Playdough   Play
            Dough Playdough  Playdough Play
                Dough Play             Playdough

Phone ringing with the cord cut
     That's the way we like to f*ck
  When we know they know
                    And the walls are just play dough
               And the heat we make turns this shelter to clay
            It makes it so intense we forget what to say
     But it's okay they'd listen anyway
         I'm trying to take the time to see just what makes you tick
         And I was never looking for smoke and mirrors or obvious tricks
            Just your essence and your presence made me question what I know
     What they know
     Walls made of playdough

Dusk turns to night with the lights off
        So silent
    You could hear a pin drop
        Deep breaths slowly fill the air
Rattling these walls made of playdough
            So in sync we don't even care
    That they know we know
Taking the time to take it slow
        In your eyes I see that raging fire
    Of these feelings I will never tire
And your skin embedded in my memories
         Makes me realize what I've always known
    Just your touch and your existence erase the tragedies
          What do they know
  Through these walls made of playdough

Playin' games.
=============
Jay Text Sandman aka Skitz Text

Set the timer click click now the clock is tick tockin'.
I came to play the game. Like a KNIK KNAK knockin'.
Your rhyme flow is slow you know like PLAYDOUGH.
I gobble up fine rhymes like a HUNGRY HIPPO.
Like SUBBUTEO I kick it.
Shruggin' off your challenge like BUCKAROO kickin'..
..up ****. I sunk your BATTLESHIP.
You played out your game of CHARADES. That's it.
I dig deep in me rhyme dictionary.
You scrawl on the the wall like palsy PICTIONARY.
Not strugglin'. I'm jugglin' the rhymes in me head.
Slam dunk. KERPLUNK. Nuff said.
No, never. No way. Who am I kiddin'?
You know I got the rhymes. And I got the rhythm.
I confess. Like a game of CHESS.
Checkmate. No debate. Not a pretty pawn missin'. *  

It’s the end of the games like RIP,
I Multikill MC’s like COD,
Keep your mind on your MINECRAFT can’t catch me,
Cause Skitz is EC's Artillery,
droppin bombs watch the FALLOUT or you’re Dogmeat
FAR CRY from the old days of CRT
So your attempt is DOOMed best clear the room,
SWAT’s get Swatted Mic shotgun BOOM!,
Blast backdraft will destroy your CIV,
No cheat codes PAC em up MAN time to give,
RESPEC- to the PORTAL gun hangin’ on me hip,
You’ve got HALF a LIFE left faster than NO CLIP
But I said no cheatin’ Hackers get Hacked up,
No Multiplayer,cause you’ve no backup,
I’m glorying in the games we play,
Checkmate VS XBOX  pass to Jay.

Chorus
Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic and it's Jay to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

When I flex it's hectic. Like SCALEXTRIC.
Switch lanes to PERFECTION.
I've a MONOPOLY in this game.
Don't pass go. Go straight to jail.
You fall like DOMINOES. I leap like a salmon.
Tisk tisk. Big RISK. Now I have BACKGAMMON.
Stamina. A steady hand OPERATION.
Ace up me sleeve and I'm just playin' PATIENCE.
Got me POKERface on.
Read 'em and weep as the game plays on.
I got a dead mans hand but I animate the mic.
BULLDOGS charge. You know I'll reach the other side.
Back to me den.
Repeat after me like SIMON SAYS.
RED ROVER, RED ROVER. I call Jay over.
You think it's over ?
No my friend. *  

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic Schizophrenic to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

This Steam Machine is heatin' up a treat
So don’t be TEKKEN the ****,just feel the beat,
This KOMBAT’s MORTAL to enemies,
But it’s a full HEALTH PACK to Fans of E.C.,
So OverClock your CPU,
get your Soundcard Jumpin like chimps in SIM ZOO,
drop DICE on ICE from here to Timbuktoo,
STREET FIGHTER’s and Writers BIOSHOCKin' you

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic Schizophrenic to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

I SPY with my little eye.
Somethin' beginnin' with J. I let fly.
As your JENGA tower wobbles.
I smile. You drop tiles. Dropped your poxy box of SCRABBLE.
Look out. That could spell disaster.
Triple word score as the rhymes rip past ya. Blast ya.
Quick out the trap like The Flash playin' SNAP.
Check the lyrical master. *
As the Dungeon Dragon spreads his wings-lets fly
playin' the game the pied piper pies,
catch you rats in me MOUSETRAP its a snap,
"cause I wrote the rhymes that broke the bulls back"
I'm the KING OF THE HILL I got ya QUICKSCOPIN'
in THE SHADOWS OF MORDOR prayin' and hopin'
for a hero like MARIO to bust you loose,
Jay's SNAKE'n' up the LADDER time to twist the noose

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic E.C. to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

What ya think ?              
Me rhymes kink, bend and fold like TWISTER.
A wicked rhythm like DOUBLE DUTCH. Skip, skip.
Like EVEL KNIEVEL. Flywheel spinnin'.
Rev it up. Dump the clutch.        
See me grinnin'. Knockin' down the pin and..
SPIROGRAPH lines in me rhyme. I'm spinnin..
..out of control. You can't cope with me GYROSCOPE.
I bring you back to the beginnin'.*

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic E.C. to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.

Being cared for
Here's the  adored door

Inside playing he pours the hearts

So like him the ricochet
Deeply love so cultured
My pearl crochet

Deeply cared about I got you
under my skin
I win your love ticket

The spool of
wool hit the floor
To the extreme
The sensitive mind

  And his feeling like the escapee finding
the higher
religion keeping that in mind
The everlasting  to be cared for or
not to be never lasting like someone
lost its hunger fasting

Waking up deeply recharged or
reproducing to
her neverending fairytale

Much deeper than 69 eye love shades
Deeply cared for beyond his loving
It comes and fades
Like Monopoly  "Godly Sun-Seeker" keeps
passing us
The game of life charades
Like Persian babies their
button nose deeply cared for to cuddle
The warmest meows hug and save

Like flour to sparkle, it deepens
like our mix, a love needs
to be worked on 
 do you really
care to fix?

But sending all the details
the lines soften pale pink rose
I felt your red fire putting
out the coldness fire and ice
To be saved on time
Like the fire chief,  
Acted like a French chef what
a love roue of the hose

Like silk my millennium  milk,
He held my finger but not
to sulk he said buckle up
What firmness and tightness
arm to arm wrestler such
bulk

Never to swear but a little lie 
  Wouldnt hurt my delicate
pinky finger
In her loop with her fur
deeply
Stepped into her mink

He's the frontman
Fresh cut lemon
Yellow sunshine
happy medium

I was wearing my hair middle parted
The picture slide the made man
Tied back my hair was deeply
Smooth talker well conditioned
With what conditions all recollections
But three strikes when you care for
someone you  don't fall out of love

  This world loves to be pampered
Cared about not scouted
All hole marks in the road badly routed
 With tons of work with the question mark?
The sign stayed with her
Deeply care about?

Like a play date let's pretend
You're both a handful
Like beer malt lips
Engraved love in the barrels
To feel deeply loved  he acted
Like the riddler

The beach her eyes were waiting to be reached
Sunset playing the fool marionette overly preached

So I  Bette
Beneath her wings
In the middle of their wed to be isles
The Green Gables emerald rings

Miss spinster-Sara Lee cake
His jeep was all she could take
How it ended up
In Greenwich Village then shipped
To Mystic Seaport Connecticut
The movie cut Cape Cod Massachusetts
The four letters in his pocket
Deeply 1 care 2 about 3 love 4

Needed a jump kickstart
Her breakfast  start of the day
 deeply cared for his way
He stumped over her honey
bunches of oats lips

The website
Go, Daddy acting love silly
The hot fun in the
International city
The UK that's OK
Mr. Bo Jangles spoiled deeply
*** in the City single
Deeply getting hurt
The Sin City

Did he see her progress
All over Twitter
He was so suited but lost
his tie twinkle tweets
Do I really live my life to dare
or deeply care?
I am ****** British give me
my English breakfast teas
for keeps
The King ain't got that swing
She acts too much like the Queen

The Royalty of love sanity
The heaping fine grain sugar spoon

(Duke of Earl gray) Deeply love Thee
But always came way too soon
She is the domestic cat going frantic

Great discoveries, and that's that
  Internships tug-cash or the hogwash
our colleagues  
The deep end "Crazy Eights
On the tenth physio natural
phenomena convent

All the Kingman no swords holding her
wrench
and knight horses unfortunate events
One day creation camel ride for miles
Reaching higher levels of toxins
and morons
Or teaching MLM  you asked for it
"The millionaire lost minds"

Were human TLC tender loving care
Like some playdough to the rooftop
Of Mentors, did they care
Who we deeply care about family
But more concerned
about the rise of money inventors
Even if life really *****
Oh! Fiddlesticks

The Moaning of life
Bring the Idiots aboard
The ***** of the night

He kinda ducks by the end of
your ***-light
Flex-body deeply cared for
Rumors and all philosophies
The shower like you was slashed
Left you bone dry without the cash
The thrill is gone your lovesick

She-devil  coffin red nails split Twilight zone

  The stars were in your corner
He deeply cared for you he was
your health kit
The Botanical Gardens

Like a figment of your imagination
Se demure you needed a
Florence Nightingale flower cure
To lift your depression to smile
You thought someone cared but all
misinterpretations

All misconceptions and misdemeanors
She takes so long putting on her
French lip glide Chanel liner
What could be ever cared for finer
Deeply digging holes like a miner

The solar rhythmic pointed finger
to the stars

So systematically
making a wish
just like everyone else
To plan your game
the game makes the plan
You deeply cared for delivery
Was I the care package

You weren't someone
just anybody like
A city dump garbage

Deeply wanting and waiting
So merely or rarely was it coming

Deeply seeing the next generation
The spectacular sunrise
White wicker twin set swing
Your heart pulls back but it was
so close to swinging forward
Moving towards your
accomplishments
The mess was all ****

"You have the exceptional mind like the beautiful mind"

People, you came across friends
Also, contributors  not the enemies
The country and the continents
Deeply cared for landmarks
The monuments how you love
her birthmark taking her hand

The Godly land such will command
moonwalker deeply cared for
All watered deep soul of lovers
The world of hands and
words became
such an impact

You felt like the creature so extinct

I.

I'm a growing polliwog,
not a butterfly--

pickled legs hang off of my fish body
and gills close off so rapidly.
A minute ago I could caress the water
and make oxygen bubble in my throat. Now

beating,

pulsing

lungs intrude
like pink bubble gum ready to pop.


What a sadistic word,

oxygen.


II.

After a little nap in a sleeping bag
butterflies are monarchs,
stained glass fluttering perfection,

symbols of luck,

symbols of
beauty,
Their wired bodies are scribbled together
like starving supermodels.


III.

And my seams are

!slowly!  

pinching themselves open,
a la Frankenstein.

I want to think these body parts are mine:

A tentative nose,

very green pointillism eyes
with lashes like brittle grass or bent nails,

These white playdough thighs,
and stretchmarks like remnants of lace
chewed up by my insane canine.

Pink.
Dainty and tangled on my legs,
I think they look like jet-streams lit by sunset.

What is a world without being judged?
Without competition or criticizing?
A world where there is no room for improvement
Everything is set in stone, not perfect just you take what you get and deal with it
Where there is no place to showcase your true potential?
No rhyme or reason to try
Less amazing things happen, maybe even nothing spectacular going on
A place doomed for rebellion, implosion
A stack of cards with no foundation, just ready to cave in
A world without love, or feelings
It all dwindles down without one another
One thing could be missing and change it all
And our society would be a soso-ciety

where is that Dettol cream
to soothe these burns
tearing up my fragile skin

can’t handle these
children in conversations,
at the dinner table, like Pinot Noir
a stain on the embroidery,

what has happened to the Panadol
on the twelfth shelf of the walk in pantry
we’re all going to throw a *****

it’s all plasters, plastercine
playdough, dresses with cheap
cliché’ commercial slogans -

such a numb drum melody,
the top shelf
of every pantry is a *****,
might as well lend a little
helping hand, sponsor a child
charity

flesh is nothing but a plastic cover
and if you s t r e t c h it far enough
the seams begin to rip, hovering
a guideline instead of a fence

a tongue is nothing but a stretchy strawberry
and if you cut it clean in half
the seeds disperse, swearing
to rearrange the words into normal speech

the brain is nothing but playdough
and if you let it mold
the pink uncoils, forgetting Plato
remembering nothing

the smile is nothing but a bunch of ugly mirrors
and if you rip them out by the roots
the spotlights reverse, it only gets worse
and you stare at your self-destruction for eternity.

I like my body.

But sometimes I wish
I could remold my fleshy fat body
like playdough.
Of course, this would only work
if I were a sculptor.

I’m not.

Perhaps if we were playdough people
there would be molds one could buy.
Empty negatives that would press
and squeeze until one fit
the manufactured, predetermined shape.
But then
we’d be cookie cutter playdough people,
everyone the same.
Forcing ourselves into bodies that aren’t ours
and wearing faces that
some mold-maker
somewhere
decided was more beautiful
than my real face.

I think I’d rather stick
with my flesh and fat and blood and bone body that,
for the most part,
I like.

We all start the same,
a ***** and a egg.
Then we are born.
Some are shaped and molded
made to perfection
never to be folded.
But some are like me,
we shape ourselves.
We hate those people,
who get put on shelves.
But deep down inside,
I wish I was molded.
Not folded and turned
I wish I was a trophy
to show on the shelves.

It ain't no mountain high-__++
enough heart stickers 2 pluses
But----she's beat like someone's
playdough high setting
diamond in the rough
High level of mercury felt tough
Like the good will hunting

Let's fulfill our dream with
less talking
More snorkeling high hopes
Big escape important titles
Such a Sperling report high crime
she got high hopes
A kiss is not a kiss
Casablanca
Piano many riddles

The delicate mood became the
Joker her low jeweled belly bottom
He could just pinch her
His paint when smoke gets in your long
Eyelashes the temptation her eyes
of infatuation
How he can move
her schoolgirl crush

The mountains
The holiday sweet baked sun cookies
He was lady looker starting
fresh like a rookie

All loving to the end of her earth

The painter Gogh the fine feather brush
Could lift smiles like hot gold rush

Way below I see something
My eyes became the hidden lake,
My body got exposed to the shining light
The Knight high tempo until the daylight
But there is a high price that's all
I could take almost my blindsight
Her body elevated

She sighs the law and order
The highest authority constitution
the movie camera high action
Higher force of her revelation
Like her Crescendo Moon
Hot body stimulation
But she became to see the
lower state of mind taking the
Xanax route

High hopes she touched the
Goddard

The Searching her lips
piercing she losing her grip

What a hot Australian dude swap
Kicking around in his boots the
  rain puddles of love hurdle
The high raft of the tortoise turtles

My heart lies the crescendo
Such a high tempo she screams

Opening up high five
my exclusively yours
Hot five emails to find got
so excited until etc--

A mountain of broken hearts
Luv her favorite journey high
living totally fab
Those hubs and cool London pubs
On the edge of ecstasy but my dark
midnight pup labs jump up the vibe

The earth stood like a still life
The darkness and the red moon
Everything I thought of came true
bleeding
The high sounds of the clock
Striking at midnight
I felt the coach driving up the
Godmother not the fairest of Bees
They were swarming high seas
And left me on my scared knees

Some leftover Crescendo of honey
His chinny chin Big Foot beard-man
High waist lady gold bonds
of money

Howling wolf complex mixture
of her body curves too many

Symphonies playing
Like something never failed
Seeing the beauty rainfall
Mermaid Tail

Like the crest of
Tsunami all the selfie's
MeMe high tea hours
100 feet he could
of very well
wanted so much
to kiss her high-cheeks
But finding the treasure
lips curved-low

Italiano tempered the wicked concert
Concerto higher up temptation
High tempo hot soup
Louisiana red hot tabasco
 You gotta have her gumbo

Going to the Mountaintop
Mr. Concerto meeting
the computer
Mr. Dumbo what an
Mc Jumbo
burger the "Clicker Bar"
The stars eating away
The greens of her eyes
Living in a hut spitting
pits of olives 
 
Spicy ladies of pimento
In young and restless town
Sacramento
She was sitting her name Sofia  
High rise body elevated
The wicker chair (Loren)
Contemplated
Hearing a sharp squeak
of his shoe that is his affair
He was walking
toward her

He fired out pool shark
Like the Crescendo cafe all neck
out like giraffes to dusk at night
Two heads are stirring
better than one smooth
spread Jiffy butter
Enjoying their cappuccino
the flamingo dancers the bodies
sway together to be engaged
Licks of her envelope
He kissed up to her first sip
Hot mouth expresso

The Pacific high tempo soprano
the mountain can be terrific
Be more specific

That girl Marlo with the
 higher latitude in St Thomas
it won't bring back
a love quicker
Our minds get slower
Using her useless hair blower
"Pacific Crest Inn"
Mind controller
Bathing on sun worshipping
What a star turning point

But lower and deserted on an island
Like smoking the sun up with a joint
the Apennines Italy like pennies for
her thought
The lust crest of her waving high
Surrender my love (Silverback)
Glitter silver high tent

Rainforest of Gorillas
Monkey *** swinging and surfing the
High society ladies what a fly-by event
High Apple Martinique the computer
Felt flooded like she could use a drink
Yes we have bruised bananas and
horn-blowers those outfitters
out of their minds towners
They never leave the crazy freeloaders
Shell be coming around your mountain

High tempo voice meet
Tatiana of the  black crow plantation

Feeling the soulful E-Harmony
Coupling eyes of tears Seattle
Cows and sheep all stacks of hay cattle
Right now her salvation she needed
something lighter not exactly higher
The Sierra Nevada crest she looked up
She went back to her Mediterranean villa
Looking at her pearly white teeth
And said what is with all this crest
I have the best hours with
my crest toothpaste lower teeth
being brushed to the higher height of
my top mountain teeth
That crescendo
was my new birth

We are all connected.
The smell of chapstick & playdough.
Pillsbury Dough Boy has to go.

Tomorrow we will make a side trip.
Errands & appointments we can skip.
The right shade of purple & pink for my lips.

Some accessories are necessary.
The right heely shoes of styles so few.
Straight or wavy long hair.
About my appearance I always care.

I want to always look my best.
Hair, makeup, wardrobe, & all the rest.

To age older one day at a time.
Youth & my prime is no longer mine.

Liquid eyeliner to enhance & make finer.
Foundation to even the tone of my ****** skin.

Mascara for my lashes.
Finding clothes that matches.
Some eyeshadow for my lids.
Revealing jewelry where it's hid.

Ironically i wait for time,
to grab me and feed off of me,
taking my youth,innocence,smile,
my memories and people i love ,
so it can create new things out of me
like a playdough, it chushes and takes,
so it can make new things out off the same flesh.

Sometimes I get into this lyfe style. A lyfe style of remorse for feeling bad for myself. A lyfe style of projecting my loneliness on others and trying to title a book titled "The times I've broken my heart". And that's just the start of the story.

 It seems I was walking home one day and the oncoming traffic of the overhead displayed a sign that read "You've caught feelings today" my love was expressed through the form of tears. Or "white lies" I guess you could say because my tears are invisible to others and they're lies disguised till this day like the dust bunnies you sweep under a rug. And I know I messed up by talking to you so much. Because that was my first mistake. Getting attached is the quickest way to getting heartbreak. But to me its something more.

 You see I'm a mold of clay passed around for the whole elementary class to see. Some people jam their fingers in me and others mold me completely differently until no one can even realize I'm playdough so instead I'm just tossed away.

Or an even better one. We'll start with the cliche "I'm a towel put out to dry" but my owner never returned so instead my skin just bleached in the winter and I withered away into a line cloth that eventually floated a stray... Or maybe I was swallowed up by the lies of others who told me I was something more than an eroded piece of ripped line cloth clay.

Whatever the matter I'm an endangered endangerment to myself. I'm not suicidal but my thoughts tell me otherwise. Have you ever looked in a mirror and seen you're two bad sides holding each others hands? Singing lullaby's about how you're lyfes demands are mediocre and no were near ideal. You're a joke to the joker and even worse you're a joke to the ones around you who only see your smile.

 Because they don't even know who you truly are. Maybe if you put away the childish dreams of falling in love and picked up an adult magazine to hide forever any sort of horseplay that comes along with being alone, and being so weak to love.

And maybe that's just it. I'm to weak for love but, I'm to weak to be loved. So maybe my fake strength can offer me an attribute to this loneliness. Or maybe I'll just make a new title and call it "Moving on and moving away"

Its just I easily succumb to the idea of love. And it seems everyone around me doesn't feel the same. So I guess I'll just remain here as dried up shriveled line cloth clay.

She is scared. Her eyes are red from crying and she is fragile and lost. I smile at her and she smiles back, but mostly because she thinks she is supposed to. She looks like she always does what she’s told. We go to the closet to pick out new clothes from the donations. She will be 12 next month. She wears a size six shirt and size seven pants. She looks undernourished.  I show her the room she will sleep in and let her choose a bed. I tell her how much I love her hair, and what a beautiful name she has. She smiles compliantly. But I can see she is scared.

He is tough. He is six and full of energy. He is a mixture of wanting to please and wanting to be naughty. But after he’s naughty, he is supplicating and desperate for approval. He is naughty again. He is playing on the steps to the upper bunk bed where he will sleep tonight. I ask him not to. He lies, and says he wasn’t. Then a loud cry as his shin connects with an unforgiving wooden step. I pick him up and put him on a chair. “Let me see, buddy.” I pat his back. He shows me and I tell him if he rubs it, it will get better faster. He says he is better. He says he is tough.

She is full of words. She is his six year old twin. She is dressed in a Disney dress and wants me to see. I tell her she is a beautiful princess and ask if she can twirl. She twirls until she is dizzy, then stops and rushes to find my eyes to see if I’m still watching. She is surprised when I am, and I clap with joy at how she can twirl. She is desperate to show me her room, her new shoes, her McDonald’s toy, her backpack. But I mostly see her heart, which is starving for recognition and attention. She is unaccustomed to receiving so much of it. She tells me about her teacher, her playdough, her fingernail. She has a lot to say about everything except what she is going through. She gives me little information. She is full of words.

He is tender. He is three and more verbal and articulate than the six year old. He has big brown cow eyes and tiny wrists. I show him the trains. He plays and plays, now and again glancing up at his infant sister who is crying in my arms, to tell her it’s ok. Back to his trains.  “Thomas the train is scared.” He tells me. “He is just little and he’s scared.” I choke back the sob and tell him Thomas is not alone and that he has friends to help him. I tell him even though he is little and scared, his friends are here for him. “Yeah,” he acknowledges. I hear him tell some other toys that he has to save his mom and sister, and then I remember that domestic violence brought him to our shelter tonight. He is honest. He is smart. He is adorable. He is tender.

She is inconsolable. She is almost six months old, and has tears running down her cheeks. I hold her and I tell her in soothing tones she is special. She tries to drink from her bottle, but then she abruptly stops and wails. I feel guilty that I have to turn my head to breathe for a minute, because she smells so badly. I cannot bathe her until she goes to the hospital for an exam and documentation. She is the one most accurately telling me her feelings tonight, and I can’t help her. I try and I soothe and I walk and I am gentle. But she is inconsolable.

I am undone. I get home and take off the clothes that smell like the baby. I fall in a heap at the cross. I tell Jesus they are no one’s, and they need Him. He tells me they are His. He tells me they are mine.

To you to you
what I wants to say to you;
air sea sky blue
clouds fluffy as sleep
with you,
  oh with you

My arms never tire
of you inside them
how do I stand the
separation when you
leave me,
when you leave me,
take yourself out of me

Hug you so close
like playdough to smoosh
my blue into your red
swirling, that is how

I smell you smell me
I didn't know this
could be so true,
this swelling, sighing
death defying love
of ours like bears
Animal, I devour you

In ankle deep icy rivers
I paw you, nuzzle you
shed your skin
lie with you naked
dangerously
I come
with you anywhere
you want to go

The sand underneath his feet is warm-
the sun shines in an empty sky
with the sea, as blue as the playdough
he had as a child

The sea, now resting was once furious-
the wind tormented it for hours
hours that he would always remember
when the wind laughed in his ears
and possessed the boat

As he looks at the sea tears rain from his eyes
the memory of seeing others like him
grabbed by the wind
tossed, shoved, pulled, pushed, before being thrown
and swallowed by the raging sea

now he stands on the shore on the beach
the view is similar to home- but not quite
he stands in a foreign land, with nothing
except his shoes and rags for clothes-
and he holds a baby, but not his.

Turning into the face that you turned into before and you find that the face is the face you can't face anymore so you put on another and it's the same as the last and the face you once cast off is the last one you liked.

It's the makeup, the put-down, the smile that you smile or the frown that you make, a mash of a pancake mix, but you fix it and stick to the programme that's set.

But the faces come back and when you don't even know they start to grow on you, alter your features and you become all those creatures you saw in the film shows, always turning into but never remain, it's like your brain has a failsafe, but it fails to make you feel safe so you switch it on auto.

I know.
so many turnings into and out from and back to the basics.
but it is always the faces that turn,
they're like playdough and plasticine rolled into one and each face is the copy of one gone before.
Each face that I am is the face of the man that I was or became and each turn is the turn in the game that we play as we change every second, every hour,
every day.

Yesterday I was home
Eating cereal
No cares
No worries
Watching an airplane
Mix like playdough
With concrete and ignite terror
Yesterday I was picking out a puppy
Little and adorable
Smallest of the bunch
Sparky became his name
Fighting so hard to scale
Two flights of stairs
To our parents room
Yesterday I was opening his present
Surprise it's for me
A guitar saying from him
Yesterday I got in my first fight
Had my first kiss
My first girlfriend
In my first grade
Yesterday I was somewhere else
Doing something I'll remember again
All these memories
Precious as can be
My personal scrapbook
Everything I've done
Failures to victories
Watching my dad cry
As he became overjoyed with pride
When I got third place
In my first pig show
Yesterday I watched my daughter be born
Felt the weight of a human heart
Swell in my desolate chest
Yesterday I met all my friends
Yesterday I got married
Yesterday I was there
Today I'm here
Reminiscing on all those years
Watching a comic on speed pages
Every action a picture
Put in motion
And at the end
Just me with a peace sign and a pen
Drawing the next few pages
Till I think about this again
How time flies and I wasn't even aware
How quick it slipped by

Often, I find myself thinking about all the people who I no longer speak to. I’m constantly lost in thought over every person who I will never see again.
I think about the best friend I had in preschool, the school nurse who made me a better person. I think about the two old women who were always waiting at the bus stop in front of my house. It’s not as if they died but it has been years since we’ve seen each other and I don’t know if we will ever meet again.

Sometimes I’ll watch T.V. and an old show will be on; a show that’s been off the air for years now. I like to watch the last season of those shows. It will occasionally take the audience back to a character that hasn’t been seen since the first season. Maybe it’ll even mention what they’ve been up to, who they are now.

When I was a kid, I used to think of my life in seasons. I used to keep an eye out for old friends. I used to find joy in running into a former algebra teacher. Or my brother’s childhood best friend. It felt like things were tying themselves up into a neat, little bow.

But I’m starting to think life doesn’t work that way.

I’m always looking for these people who I will probably never see again. I’ve gone on long walks, purely concentrated on remembering the last name of my favorite bus driver. I’m thinking about everyonet all day long.
I think about all the places I’ve been without realizing that I have been there for the last time. The pediatrics department of my doctors office. The Treasure Island hotel in Las Vegas that I have not stayed at since I was 7.

I think about all the moments in my life, big or small. that shaped the person I am today without even realizing they were those moments.

I’ve always had a bad perception of time. I’ve never been able to sit down somewhere and tell the difference between an hour passing by compared to five minutes.

But that perception is not limited to numbers on a clock. It is not just a matter of figuring out the time. It is a matter of staying in the right time.

I’m 22 but I was just eleven years old yesterday. I was walking home from school. It was 4 O’clock on a cloudy Friday. When I walked in the door, my brother was watching Family Guy and started to tell me about his day. Now that same brother has a wife and two children and lives eight hours away from me.

I’m 22 years old. I’m single, no children. The other day I was driving down the street and my mind jumped ahead to a day in the future where this car will no longer be around. The engine will be dead, the parts will be scrapped, and I’ll have two kids and a wife. I’ll be driving down the street with car seats in the backseat of my minivan. And I’ll see a Toyota Camry parked on a street somewhere.

I’ll think that today, right now, was such a long time ago.

Sometimes I look at my parents and I think about them in their twenties. I see them as the same age that I am. I wonder if we would have been friends.

I once picked up my niece while she was napping and carried her to bed. I laid her down, took her shoes off, and pulled a blanket up over her. I tried to picture her as a sixteen year old. I tried to picture this little person, who comes up and asks to open playdough, will still want to talk to me.
My nephew is only two. He’s a verbal late bloomer. I think about the times he will someday come home from school and tell me about his day. Or maybe he will be just as quiet as he is now.

I think I might be a time traveler. I’m always all over the place.

The other day I pulled off the freeway and onto the side of the road. I broke down into gasping sobs because my uncle had died. He passed away when I was 16. I think that was the first time I realized he was never coming home again.I think that was the first time I ever cried for him.  

Time is tricky. People say I have an old soul but maybe I just have old eyes. Maybe that’s why I’m stressing out on a mortgage bill that’s due on a house that I’m not even close to owning yet.
The other day, I had felt this deep sadness all day long. People kept asking me what was wrong but I thought it would have been silly to say that once, when I was 6 years old, my mother bought me a balloon at a park and it floated away and I’m still upset over it.

People aren’t like seasons. One day they’re here, the next they’re gone.
People aren’t like anything else around.
When it’s been sunny for awhile, I always know it will rain again, eventually. When I plant a tree, I know it’ll either grow. Or it’ll die. I won’t just look outside one day at a tree that has run away from home.
I don’t know if I’ll see certain people again.
I don’t know what has happened or what might happened.

Time has always been a tricky thing for me.

I try to make constants in my life.

Little anchors that let me know that this life is still my life.
Like when you see a silver car in a parking lot with a bunch of other silver cars, and you can still somehow recognize which one is your car.

I like to drink coffee. I always have.

It’s one of my constants. I drank coffee throughout my childhood and I drink coffee now.
I probably always will.
On the mornings when I shockingly have nothing to do, I like to make myself a big *** of coffee. It doesn’t matter if I’m at home or not. I’ve made coffee in hotel rooms, I’ve made coffee in ex lovers apartments. Even if it is not very good coffee.

My 8 year old hands hold onto the coffee mug, letting it’s warmth seep through my entire body. I’ll sit down, close to a window somewhere.
My 22 year old eyes taking in all the sites. I have drank coffee on windy fall mornings. I’ve drank coffee in a motel right next to the beach. I like to watch the waves hit the water. I like to watch joggers jog by the house.
I like to drink my coffee and look outside at my grandchildren playing in the backyard.

My one, true constant.

I’ll take a sip from that coffee, from whenever I am. And I’ll start to think about all the people I have seen for the last time.

And all the ones I have met to meet for the first time.