My hands are wide open for as long
as you'd like them to be
However,
They are much less receiving when
you say "I love her" to me.

I was asked what I would do
if I was given the blessing to be able
to see the future for just a moment and
spaceships soared across
my mind and I'd love to know
if scientists gained any knowledge
on the puzzling concept of holographic love
and I'm also strangely curious if anyone would
think in years to come to recite vows to their computer
but just as advances are beautiful
so is how we tend to fester and so
subconscious overgrew, engulfing
as I pondered what I would
feast my starving eyes upon
and I had seemingly no other
option but to change my focus to you
and ask you if you'd depend
now without hesitation
on the truth in the words you used
to recite to yours truly like a bridge
to get you from the beginning to the end
of the void that is now between you and I.

I have a strong interest
Not in seeing but Understanding.
Darkness cannot make me feel
You any less that what you are,
As long as my hand is grazing your lips
I don't need to fathom your words.

You could recite prayers and I would never
See god for I was looking straight at You,
Hands apart.

I've never had expensive jewelry and
With you as armor shielding my eyes,
I understand how the mad devote their lives
To a Diamond displaying a sparkel
But I still need to hold it to really
Know it Shines

Strange how people hint
and never follow through
How words don't precede actions
and it rains when skies are blue

Buy your girl some flowers
and you break them on the train
Your loved ones could be liars
but their nose still stays the same

You can swear all you want
make promises with rings
But this worlds a tricky guy
who gives some birds broken wings

Is the man
That forces me now
To grow my roots in
His always promising
Landslide

So far, it has been the most
difficult obstacle known to all forms of man
Not like the ones that take muscle
endurance or agility, but it requires
you to remove your skin by hand
and walk around just baron bones
Alone, fiddling anything to distract
away the constant doorbell screaming, or the bottomless
pit of hunger you're
dying to starve
but sometimes,
it screams too loud for your
meaningless distractions
and you find yourself re-igniting the
fire that your earlier days were so well
warmed with and so for some small
fraction of eternity, you are awarded
a beautiful golden trophy but we all know
that once earned can only be admired  
for yet another less fraction of eternity

To the man at the dead end,
Your company is pleasing.
Your smokes smell different than mine
so its a nice change of pace.
Usually there are only crickets playing
for me but tonight there is a band
rocking out for the two of us.
I often chat with myself but
you're allowing me to listen. To you,
puffing away your work day
and starring at the sea to set afloat
every uneasy thought that has crossed you
and as I listen to the grunts in your breath,
as the pacing between each increases,
I know your heart's settling and it's time for bed
Though I havent pulled away yet because i
Prefer a soundtrack to silence and
I'd rather fall asleep to all the
nothings you have to say than
my own rhetorical questions.

she's terrible you said
I pronounce as if it's free
she waited for you,
longer, you see
but to execute finely
same as thee
is the result of a
miserably complicated flee
and for what reason
did I take a knee
to her, stand alone
but mirroring me

It's nice when two hands fold down sheets
to ruin what was just made
for everyone to see but only one to touch
the canvas with endless sides
allowing us to trace each other
until the outlines become permanent
on that wrinkled sheet of
an unwritten story

There were no name tags to save the spot
that was seldom departed from yours
though I would have liked to take in
the heat of your exhaustion one more time
or notice how you panted after you braided our
outlines into one connected tie, showing defeat by
allowing me to slip into a coma
while you grazed that beating drum
trying to slow it down to show me
what we had just drawn.

Neither were artists but both craved creation
even if it was just sculpting what we had
into a crumbling statue to tell people
we were okay with living in a space that had
nothing to offer

If these fall flavored leaves
Suggest the world is rotting
Before the frost bite seals the deal
Then from my beauty seeking eyes
Let me see it all in embers

You could lift a million pounds
on nothing but your shoulders
and walk a mile down the road
and still not feel a second older

Maybe your posture isn't perfect
and your muscles begin to ache but
every inch that passes
makes it harder to mistake

What is different between a grin
and a smile that stays in tact
but lying to yourself will be
the straw to break your back

To grasp the space between your fingers
would be much too big a handful
for someone who has only ever held before
explosions from hands
which closed too soon

To understand the breaths between your words
would be a story far too deep for a person who
has only ever heard before the echoes of
shallow water wells
whose drains let out too soon

Though having but a drip of your presence
in my world pool has created a current
where I could happily drown in all of the
future waters but I can't bare
to keep living like that

I could not be told to dance more
passionately than by the whips of the circus leader
gripping his authority
harder than I thought he could.

Know how fast I can regrow
an old tail at times like this
to maneuver through change
as if it were a flood
with no forewarning.
I'm good at holding my breath.  

Sour is a flavor
constantly wanting more
making you take a sip of water
to cleanse what you've just
swam so heavily through
and all I want right now
is a long fresh gulp
of water.

Tonight while I crawled about another dimension
I stopped too long at a stop sign
and was mind boggled at how easy
it  can be to follow rules
though were all rushing to get to
the dinner table to eat with those who
drop dead among us
and plummet into caskets that need handlers
too weak to lift a finger to show the direction
that they look upon us
if they look upon us at all

The vibrations in your throat  
when said calmly makes even glass pain.
Murders have been committed
under your instruction
and remorse is not a word
you've ever looked for.
Laughing, you can attract any being
who is having their last breath
to give it up so to not bare
your poorly planned attempt
as spreading false joy
and when people look at you
they see for a minute a boy,
but for an hour, a picture of embarrassment
you seem to always frame
in the most expensive rotting wood.
It is though you've slight idea how
rough your humor attempts are
or how fake are those who listen.
But at sunset, in a glow that blinds
you still sing so lovely

If my feet didn't fail, I'd walk for days on end,
To the place far away, to the place I've never been.
Stay closed up all your life, blind to the normal eye,
Until no one can truly see you, does your mind really die.

Surrounded by full caskets of things you should have said,
The words pounding in your mouth, never to be read.
Screaming out to anything, kidnapped by regret,
What should have come out smoothly, stagers out with threat.

Hollow ears are thirsty for what they thought you'd say,
Questions still unanswered, their ends are left to fray.
But when the truth in the lie leads you to this place,
The yells you were searching for are gone, done, no trace.

I wish i could still be their
Under your breath at 5 in the morning
Waiting for you to speak your last words
For the night before we both fade away
Until you move in the night like someone
Who doesn't want to be seen, awaiting
Judgement on something he knows he did wrong.
How subtle your moves were to try not to rock me off
The crescent moon we slept on together
With a view that could only be imagined.
It's a shame I can't remember dreams anymore.

How vibrant they were holding onto you
Hinting to what I wish I could see.
Like a film watched on crowded seats
Fiddling with my eraser heads to make what I always forgot to see
fail to ever reappear in wondering thoughts
or glimpses
of the past.
I never liked history.
But if you would have just kept your foot on my heel when
I was about to take a step, you could have saved
the torn apart feet which now walks alone
in our once synchronized steps.

Sometimes I get off at the exit before mine
sometimes three even
to remind myself I can remember
things I haven't seen in a while
like the sharpness of the bend
or the bumps that could rip my tire off
because i know there will always be a
stoplight after the turn
and sometimes a person will walk on the
cross walk in front of me and even their
face seems familiar

but once I get down the road
I've realized, all I really wanted
was more time in my car
with an empty mind only
thinking about turns and lights
before that headache of my driveway
takes over

I never asked you to stay.
I didn't expect concrete to form
around your feet
or give you a leash to keep close.
All I wanted for was company
at the times I wanted to
remember how a heart beats.
It isn't enough to brush your leg
or accept your embracing touch.
I liked reminding myself I'm
not the only one with
permanent damage and
tracing your skin helped
to instill in my thoughts
that maybe someone
had ruined you too.
Just maybe my outline
wasn't strong enough and
Your shell had no choice
but to crack

Forced into the explosion like
Two magnets filled with positivity
Creating coats of flammable wool
Yet I adore how the embers
Hit the road behind me
Every time

Ive always gone for walks
Mostly after sunset
But sometimes during
To forget what time
Was about to roll by or
To witness the flowers
And families and friendships
Live before me
Actually told me nothing good

I began around 6 the second
I saw the road behind my house
After winter made it clear
To see where the path led
In front of me, or behind the
Worlds biggest fence
Wouldn't stop me, still

At 6 they were entertaining
But now its just a challenge though
I'd me lying if I didn't say
The rain still makes me think
I can be six in puddles
Except that's blatantly false
Because I know Ive been
And also shouldn't always be
Smoking cigarettes like this
Is new to me

I want my skin to touch the air
But the shiver makes me shake
And I want to never stop running
But i've never been one to wear sneakers
especially with good support
cause even my life doesn't need that
And I don't even like chinese food
But my fortune cookie told me
"go forth with confidence!"
So I kind of want to listen
But I hate the smell of gas
and I love to be on Fire

I had a cigarette for lunch today
and everyone knows how hard it is
to function when you're full
so in trying to digest
and get back to my day
I had another
and now I miss mamas cooking

You have so plesently
returned to my life
as if I had known
you would all along
and even with the skeptasism still in the air
your fingers runing through my hair
is where they belong

I’m afraid I’m not myself here and
Im afraid that I am
It’s that fear you know is real
like when you look in the mirror
at your ghost or your child
and see that monster you thought left 4 years ago
Your bones collide into a pile of dust
Since all it’s done is grown bigger and hides
in the places I hate looking now
Like the ones under my chest that pumps
that life line throughout the fragile veins
I forgot existed

Sometimes I cant tell if I’m alive but then
I remember I have a spine and yours is fake

Glass; It does not
Break.
You can fix
Broken things.
Glass; It
*Shatters

I am not thirsty
I have consumed gallons before
I am not hungry
I have felt what it is like to be full of something
but I have never felt what it is like to be filled
with you
at every angle
whether I want it or not.
I am not needy
But for all you've got to offer, I really
really want it

Its all forming patterns
leading me further into
this gravitational pull
starting where the earth ends
and water begins.
Right between the first handshake
of the confident sea with
the masking sand and stretching
onward, continuously
swinging safely on rippling vibrations
that are never the same twice
and yet I feel I'm predicting the waves.
As far as the eye can see
is the focal point which though
uneasily attained seems to willingly
engulf me every time in the
fact that the ocean is the only being
that hasn't deceived me once I
let it drag me in.

Today I got called moonshine.
I took it to heart,  for a moment
until it dawned that no one is ever
warmed by the moon.
Moon's don't leave
a yellow glow  on your skin and  
none content with their lives can
hold its gaze for more then a
single moment.

I wish I could love what you said
but I have a feeling you like the night
just as much as I and with you still here,
I can't see the light.

I never thought i'd get used to a constant heartbeat
Keeping perfect tempo under my ear
But when that beat has a voice that brings up it's thoughts
I can hear it speed up and
I get nervous too and your ribs can probably tell that
By the way my breath stutters and words fall out cracked
But after all is said and done, I'm even more frightened
At the words i just heard
And the slowed down tempo
That forms a rhythm of wanted love
That sadly is only one sided

And for the millionth time
another chunk of days
is about to unfold
and I'm constantly pondering
what to make of them
should I plant a tree to watch life grow
or should i clean out my closet
to see a life that has faded away
for better or for worse, i still don't know
if these are words to live by
but we know how selective
the ears can be

There are different levels to greed
and those with small pockets
understand why its better
to not offer anything
then to turn down an offer
like you've got plenty more

I keep a bathing suit in my car.
I never know when a tsunami might ensue
or a storm will erupt so there it stays
for a rainy day.
Next to the blanket I have tossed
in the trunk a few months earlier
if my bones ever began to shake
I know I will be safe.
You taught me to be prepared for anything.
To only wear shoes that could  
Hold you up in quicksand.
You prepared me to sprint miles next to you
and though I am set for the worst
I am running alone.

Lungs were made for oxygen.
If anything, you could probably give
them the lack and they would still be fine
for a smal fraction of time
So when you add something new
they don't know what to do.
They freeze up and just let you be you

How many people do you have to allow
to trample on your chest
with spiked steel toed boots
before you realize you should stop
planning your own isolation since
the warmth of the sun can be so comfortable
for as long as you don't start to sweat and
words are the melody of passing thoughts
though they are scarcely jotted down in stone
and you love watching the leaves dance in the wind
but eventually they stop playing music
but when you think that a flower blooms
to now get abused by bees, it's
lighter on the mind than realizing
that the world looks so different
with tears in your eyes

I used to take the cold for granted.
How my breathe kept me company when my fingers were scared to move.
I used to talk to leaves and see how many shoes they tried on that day.
Even the wind wouldn't lead their skydive astray.
I used to paint with the dirt and create a garden in a field of ash
With sticks which created the most elegant slash.
But today I put myself in a box.

It was a coffin whose cracks let in too much light to see the stars.
I taped it shut.
I wasn't awaiting a wake up call or coffee from my assistant.
I was singing with the silence till it told me to stop.
Until it told me I couldn't let my blood circulate by itself.

So I walked with it to the construction site of a project that builders abandoned.
I saw the broken windows and the overflowing mailbox that begged to be opened.
I didn't want to look a the old graffiti on the billboard that got wasted on eyes that only looked down.
But it was today that I led my blood to the crossroads where direction fell off the map.
Lungs tried to help me but they just wanted to skip around with my breath.
I came up with a solution but the contractors didn't agree.
I blame distraction for all the things I didn't let myself see.

What can speed like a dart
to the bulls eye but
never win the point
or stop so short
but still be over the line
when it comes out at night but
is still seen in the brightest
of lights headed for the potential
end of the earth but the show is
about to be preformed and
to the buck with a bassinet
at the tip of its antlers
I know for sure you will
set it down
softly

I saw a Black rose walk out of the dirt

After being tended to with all a mans love

Which got destroyed once he noticed it was

Sunny and the rose was not red at all

But he must not have seen all the tears

That dropped on the flowers bed on those

Nights he felt love least and all this

Time he thought his heart was able to be

Felt again but since the moment he saw the

Petals hold his tears, it has sunken into the mud

Where everything comes out Black.

It deafens me to hear
The song of birds
Ring out only to be
Stolen by ears that
Will never be able to replay
That Anthem

Let me write a song
To tell you how I feel
Because I'm too afraid to show you
For you might not think its real
That I could ever think this way
Or let these monsters in
Buts its only a fair game,
I don't usually turn down sin.

I'd make it sound so sweet
Like how the sun and birds can meet
But that sound doesn't really show
All there actually is to know
Because the sound Im looking for, you can't hear at all
It not even music, it's just my head trying to stall
Maybe I don't actually want to show you
Cause it kind of scares me too,
That the way I feel right now
Has nothing to do with you

Ignite what you wish, just promise me
to adore the flames since it's the last
thing you two have combined
and for otherwise is energy wasted
and we know you love wasting time
regardless if it's yours to take
but for the duration of the fire
enjoy every spark and cheers
with the shotgun next to the jacket
along side the rest of her unfound things
I just owe it to say to the ash that remains
it's a shame you forgot you can't burn down your pain

Sometimes coffee takes a day
And work takes an hour
While showering a second
And a year for a flower

Too long to walk
To the corner and back
And a lifetime to realize
That you're what I lack

Though pockets are empty
They sure will fill soon
Since the rule about time is
Twelve's always at noon

People don’t think it’s weird to
Sit in the sun even if they
Burn, but when the
Water starts to fall and
The rest go inside, Ill
Stay then to get 
Burnt, because I’m not 
Afraid of a flood

Sometimes when I stop to think about who I am
I immediately call it quits
Because I'm not one to make assumptions
When I'm not completely sure

I would never let a wave knock me to sand
As long as my feet still worked on land
And I would never run far from the fear of a burn
Since a hand made trophy is something you earn.
I've watched when hurricanes ruined my pride
And I let my judgement un-detect lies.
As the people who told me their time was up
Still, I never quite hoped high enough
So who was I to tell you to keep
Your freezing hands away from my heat.
Ever since the few times I stood my ground
As a picketing human screaming too loud,
I've learned that you shouldn't hear too soon
That you can always go blind by the light of the Moon

There was no way for me to know

whether those tracks had been

in the same spot for a year

or if they moved around with every waves pull

because the sand didn’t fit my feet too well

almost as if it was borrowed  from someone

before it was broken in

wrapped up like a new gift with no name tag

or destination

just like how a blind gaze often leads me

to the water on footprints I can’t trust

knowing full well how much I could drown but

even gasping breath wouldn’t put an end

to the miles I would walk just to get to see

There was no force strong enough
to rip down that space. No hurricane
fast enough to uncover the sanctuary
I often turned into my home on days
the rain wouldn't stop for hours.

It snowed 4 feet one year. That was the
most snow I'd ever seen at once. Through muck
and slush i trudged to the place my thoughts wandered to
when they weren't allowed inside. Almost like the light would
crave an entrance, to make my memories clearer.
It was even warmer in the snow.

Today I saw a leaf that looked so familiar.
Part of me wanted to cry but I remembered
that was the trees job. To weep with whomever
sat under it long enough to notice the faces
on the bark. I told dad not to cut it down
but I guess he'd never been to that
oasis

A winding path spirals into crumbling trees through the woods 
where every leaf covers a trap and every water drop fades
into the piercing air we gasp for to try to rid our lungs
of the black ink we always effortfully take in
as if we're drawing a picture we think will be seen
after a day of looking into a fire that never got warm 

With a machine for a heart, I quickly learned the privilege of an off switch.

A man who doesn't eat
grows apple trees to witness
an entire life span he knows
can't be seen in a mirror.
You are born and you are told
to write a story.
Plot, ******, problem, resolution,
enlightenment? Iv'e yet to learn.
So I write about nothing,
about apples and life
but so many other words
could be said about the way we breathe
and how we act faced with fear
or where we turn in the dark
yet a lot of me is sitting here
just listening and feeling, quietly.
I'd like the ocean closer to
watch the waves journey
and maybe actually notice
what the cracks are drawing when
infant birds are hatching since I never
lived in such a small space.
I'm trying to see everything at once
and though I thought I was failing,
before me is a life form producing
juicy epiphany despite confinement and
frost covered grounds and though the man
will never **** offspring for pleasure,
He saw it's entire life before him.