Prologue

Lately, you to me, isn't as it used to be
It's as if I'm reading our story,
but it's too familiar
and I already know the ending.

However, do not wish for a happier tale
My issue isn't with the end
It's the boredom found within
and that omniscient sense that we fail.

After time, even your favorite books lose their luster.

story of a new life

each day
i distance myself from you
ahead
i'm lifting my face to the sky
muscles unbounded
arms out

how wonderful life appears
awash in the colors of dawn

i live free

questionnaire

how would it feel
to have me look in your eyes and see what was reflected there?

but what color are they?
mine are green.

similarities

picking
it's the movement
unleashed energy

in the hands, coursing through the hands
it's a quintet
but it breathes as one

frets
up down up down
every foot
up down up down

electricity

chemistry

what was there in the music
what was felt in the sound

listen for the echoes elsewhere
i can hear them in your eyes

A Stroll

The casual drift of the light
glancing upon the roofs of the trees
sheltering the dim undergrowth.

Pale gravel lining the striped roads
gracefully curving across the bend
gradually sloping over the water.

Lingering ripples on top of the surface
tapering beneath the scene
of authoratative and majestic foliage.

All centered by one distant sun
burning, burning downwards
blazing in glory to reveal the night.

A small thought

For under moonlit skies
It comes as no surprise
That on this borrowed time
You love me.

art

staring.
eyes open into the unknown
a small light haze
in the distance by nearby

we hear the echoes of our voices,
questioning
to reassure what we see

how much like life
reaching out
never really seeing what is there

at the end,
white flashes in the corners of our eyes
pulsing light

The hobby of Lying

It's okay.

Sits, bended.
In through the nose,
down down through the back of the throat.

It's okay.

Water dripping.
Sliding off,
rivulets down the hollow of his back.

It's okay.

Closed, vertical.
Blankets held tight,
tissues nearby.

It's okay.

Whatever you've heard, it can't be that bad.
We have solutions.
Marketing tactics to make your world okay.
It's okay, It's okay.

When do two letters become a word that means nothing?

Don't worry, this is meant to be blatant.
He's accepting of denial.
accept the tricks

I'll reassure you, with insincerity.

It's okay.

untitled

I can feel the pulse in my skull
thin beads
just passing through
grotesquely covering the blue sparks
blatant impulses buried beneath
sending thoughts to my toes
coolly detached from the emotion
that dictates where the feet walk
and the colors the eyes won't see
The world is my rainbow.
What color is blood?

He and She

Every day, he said to her
words upon words
Full of heartfelt gestures,
yet said with a smirk.

She always smiled
and took them as farce
But when she went home
she wasn't sure what he meant

He sat in his room, and wondered
if by repeating himself
Gradually he spoke the truth
head in his hands, thinking of the girl

In her home, she hoped
maybe, just maybe for once
He wouldn't be the one with smiles
and his eyes on one more, one other

Both unsure of the other.

any other sunday

when the nights were balmy
standing out on the porch
mild traffic
you played me songs, on the piano
over the telephone

i sobbed when i came back from that week
hearing our voices recorded together
how could i ever recapture that moment?

i lived outdoors.
you looked over, and grinned
and i stuttered inside, when you said you'd take me there.

why is this coming back now?

this is what they call pain,
and regret.
sitting on cold nights, thinking of others elsewhere
when once, i lay
stretched on the sand
listening to the waves and loving you

ordinary, alive

dusk
good music.
she felt the wheel

drumming, patiently
her foot thumped, echoes of the bass
across the seat

right of way
in the horizon
purples, and oranges, and pale yellow
hazed by stratus, nimbus...
distracted

squinting
you see her hair fall in her eyes
and breathe with her breath
track change
light change

faster, faster, wheels turn, beats, tempo

manual windows
a relic?
twisted down: breaking open
room for air
crisp, cold. unecessary air

open and free
the whoosh of heat, on the feet
windows down heat on the feet

she's alone
laughter, gasping
yells to the heavens

we're not sitting anymore
no, no my friend
we're moving
reds, and purples, and blues! let us see the stars.

the glint in her eye
abandonment

trigger finger on the wheel
her mind? on you

now, in love

now i'm home,
and thinking about the smell of pizza and wings
which before, made me think of him

now i think of you
and how i couldn't help but wishing
you'd move a bit closer

and i love the way, even though we both hate driving
you'll still drive me home

and i love the way, even though we both complain about them
you still love your sister, and take care of her

but i don't know how much i can give
all i know
is i don't want you to get hurt
because, i do love you

sick//politics

drinking tea
gnawing on cough drops,
foul scents.

watching the political news
general disgust, with pursed lips
your tongue glazed with medicine

blow your nose.
cough
cough
the anchorman analyzes

curled up in a blanket
our eyes close
blissfully unaware of the breaking news
of still uncounted votes

these votes don't have our voice
or they would smell of your sickness

raspy
and unaware.
the sound is lost, in the roar.

below standard

the thing is,
you don't even know.

we go out.

you know me, i know you
and yet here i am
writing words
sounding cliche
being exactly the way

i do not. want to be.
if only

pixelated

we make boxes, boxes
frames of color
snap it now, trap it forever
we take this moment
in it's 3-dimensional glory
and force it into a vague
2-dimensional story

once, twice
blinding bright
to memorize your face
i'm combining action
and macro
for a lightning fast personal view

unable

1. it's cold here

i thought you should know
unaccustomed to such cheer
contrasted with such bleakness

my toes can barely move

i won't finish knitting the mittens
perhaps the warm scarf
a forest green
tweed
full of softness and
just a young love

it's the loneliness of winter

he sat in his basement
dealt with his emotions
for 5 cents, i solved them

2. quite unbelieving
tears full of bitter, salty
unacceptedly

clear

wide open
skies
and stars
unadorned

open
free
silk night

level
for miles
clear
free

home

to lay down
and accept
stars

alarms

it's time,
for a roadtrip
a journey to far away
to meet people
who matter.

it's time,
to make a move
boldly, expressively
appreciated surprises
of touching lips.

it's time,
for a confession
a reluctant appraisal
to clearly assess
real hopes.

it's time
for you, only you
to come fiercely onto me
and finally let known
what needs to be.

a fresh return

it's tentative.
not really wary,
that wouldn't be quite accurate.
yet circling, somewhat unsure.
sometimes it's felt in a glance,
one where the eyes meet for longer than they should
or are caught watching, observing.
sometimes it's in a word
tone of voice
phrasing, order, function.
small clues.
the more obvious touch
bodies meeting
unecessary contact,
yet completely needed.
the attention given, and received
small reminders of an earlier security
just longing to be reclaimed