Let it be know I let sand fall through each crevice
And when you watch it all fall
You don't count the grains until about 10 left
I count it like seconds
As the texture slowly leaves my nerves like a girl you hate (love)
Those with cancer, suicidal ideation and a beautiful wife
Become aware of their fleeting beaches too late
So they make snow angels in it
Slowly sinking beneath instead of standing up
And the sand awaits the next eager, quasi-benevolent boy
It is a line to the beach, I check my ticket number
"21"

Springtime comes and we are still cold
Where you wave flowers in lieu of my hands
Chrysanthemums are my favorite
In them lie hidden a poison veiled by colors and patterns
But you didn't know
They were dead before my fingers connected
She loves me, she loves me too much i say as pick the dead petals
Before they were all gone and my breath to the wind
The angel on my shoulder is ignoring me and the devil is on vacation
and its just me
all alone with my vices and stonewall demeanor
tall as the shadow of the tree i hide under
and you are so high up
breathing in mountain air and living
As above so below it hurts
miles above me and yet you dont look down on me
Instead you extend a hand down
And i kept getting lower and lower
Until your arm reached its limit
And i peel my skin off trying to find the reason
the chronic ennui and morose feeling juxtaposed with your canyon length smile
To realize I am no more a man the more layers are gone
just getting closer inside to the boy who never healed
You never saw all the times i wanted to cry
to wail and scream and tell you what was killing me
the poison in me for so long
i tried to keep it contained
only for it to spread like wildfire
Why did it take you dying for me to love you?

Does my name strike you in the chest
like arctic wind on bare skin
or a heatwave from an oven door


Or have the memories and associations turned to blank
An image to picture
A scent to happenstance
The words to just sounds


Did my face fade to another then to silhouettes then to shapes
only to appear in a restaurant booth or each puddle along Route 8

Carry with you that piece of me however small it may be
even if my name is just another outline amidst infinity

Autumn, fell into you
fell in love and your arms
and let the dam break open
and the tears flowed like sweat
like sweat when we were so close
treated everyday like our last because it very well could have been
and then it was
we didn't notice the trees dying
so human
the conifers watching
watching us frolick in the remains of their deciduous brothers

love, torture filled yet beauteous

reminiscent of flora emerging from ash after a forest fire

like a waning gibbous projecting yin and yang we too were light and dark

I have still not seen the stars but your words of them carry me there

A brand new Lego set is splayed on the floor.
Fluttering pages threaten calloused fingers as the reader flips through pages.
The loose pieces clink together as delicate hands sift through them.
The bright colors flash and blend together in the pile.
Piece by piece the two finish their structure.
Though some pieces are missing, and some are out of place, the structure is beautiful, and they are content.
As it's lifted to its final place, one of the hands slip, and the structure falls to the floor.
It crumbles apart.
For a moment, the builders hold each other, then one speaks to the other.
"That's okay. They're meant to be put together again."

a man who lives in semantics

who ignores colors and exists monochromatically

wept when he could not solve his problems

he spent so long with the flower under the microscope

that he never got a chance to smell it