dissonance

today was just like any other day.

right? that statement was too true to be true.
it feels as if i'm grasping for reasons that are not there,
running in circles when i should be happy just to see you.

because i need some motive to shout with joy,
afraid that i'll spend my days just pulling out my hair,
wondering whether or not i've made myself your latest toy.

cradle me until i've stopped picking at this skin,
'til my hair is long and my nails are smooth and i know you care.
this ice i'm skating on feels so nice right now, but it's so, so thin.

sestina of doom?

i open my eyes and search for love,
knowing contentedly that i am alone,
for it would seem that at my best i
can never open my eyes to take yours in,
and it is so peaceful and dark
that i know you will never really see me like this.

the moon likes nights like this,
when foolish bards attempt to love.
and the words are only lost in the dark,
so happy to be caught alone,
that no one but the stars may listen in,
and no on is speaking but i.

no one must suffer now that i
have admitted my part in this,
now that i am thoroughly outside-in.
now that i have admitted to admitting love,
i am finally content to lie alone,
smiling sleeplessly in the dark.

but as in everything, the darkness colors dreams dark.
in every possible way i
have committed myself once more to being alone,
inadvertently and sadly you are this:
nameless, faceless, eyeless, mouth-less, my love.
do you hear me? i find your eyes and look in.

i cannot look in without falling in.
blissfully discouraged, i myself am dark,
misunderstood, lost in the complications of love.
led to wander too far from myself i
finally resign myself to thinking this,
that i may learn to change in one day when i am with you and you alone:

alone
in
this
dark,
i
love.

for now i am truly alone, left to leave myself to the dark.
emotions may dive in, but i will always remain - well, "i."
i leave you, my love, with this: be true, my love, to love.

instead of sleep

my curtain are drawn,
even though the skies
call out:

"come gaze,
dear boy,
upon the ageless night,
so dark
and oh so bright,
come sit with us
and sigh."

and again i wonder
why i am not somewhere
three thousand years ago,
or simply so many miles away,
where the stars truly are
as bright
as these dreams.

lashes

backlashes
and all because your eyelashes
parted to reveal
a soul.
and i saw beautiful flashes
of remorse,
cries,
and this feeling clashes
with everything
i know.
you reek of pity,
splashes of year-old champagne,
it slashes at your perfect figure,
until i understand the rain.

dedicated to:

what's funny
is that none of them
would appreciate it
if they knew that it was written
about them.

snails are beautiful creatures even if they are ugly.

life was in a minor key when you came;
and i realize that all those flats
grated against your perfectly melodious tune.
the harmonies couldn't make up for the sadness,
could they?

but still i savor every note,
even though sometimes
it feels as though i'm living in sixteenths.
and the discord descends inescapably,
and i am watching myself living a depressing blur.

but i guess
it just makes
a key change
that much more
beautiful.

inside of me.

i don't know who i am.
i'll be honest: my ideals have turned into shadows,
and i've lately been content to accuse others of losing theirs.
but what are mine?
who am i?
the characters that make themselves visible after years of introspect
have hidden among my greeds and faults.
and i'm left by myself again,
because reconciliation is barely enough to procure
the friends inside of me.

infinetesimile

for once i am comfortable in the dark as in the light.
i'm lying the wrong way,
my head pointing downhill.
but it's okay.
because even though the blood is rushing to my head,
i am happy.

how i imagine your last day of school.

for every moment i am sad,
show me a smile.
and every time i cry,
give me your joy.

we'll lie on a hill and stare at the stars,
each of us not saying
what we think.
in a circle... as many of us as i care to imagine.

and i think,
'let it last forever,'
even though i know it won't,
and eventually we'll all go.

but right now,
every inch of grass seems softer
than anything i've ever touched,
and the stars will never be this bright again,
and your eyes reflect them perfectly,
dark; nobody would know whether they were hazel
or blue; and the ant that crawls across me
is for once, welcome. because i can see it loving.
and i am glad.

to dead heroes

i'm at a loss.
aren't you too pretty to be found the way you were?
don't you know about all the people who ever looked up to you?
or maybe life just gets too mundane for some men;
maybe there was just an empty spot for another dead hero.

life can sing its simple melody, i suppose.
days will pass and the sun will fade again.
and we're dropping like flies down here...
why shouldn't it be you today?

but still...
inexplicable remorse washes in,
and i remember; just days ago i spoke of you.
i don't remember what i said. it doesn't matter.
these days,
you're a blank face or a dead hero.

maybe that's why you did it.

a beautiful regurgitation

tumble fly somersault jump
down up around
swinging stooping sighing
smiles fears apathies passions
love hate
determination vilification recreation
tears joys
and everything else.

it's all there -
just choose which ones you want.

sonnet

for you i'd tear the sadness from my soul,
we writhe abed and never lose our way.
though loving ways have turned a heart to coal,
i still can hear a friendly whisper say:

our lies are just a way to never hear
that crying burns and never really heals,
and sighs are simply echoes from a tear,
and you are really all of my ideals.

so now i sit and stare upon the stars,
to dream of who i wish i might become,
a night so dark it makes me see the scars
that never scream their cries 'till i succumb.

and if, dear friend, the monster turns out real,
i'll look to you to find a light to heal.

which begs the question

i cannot ask it.
not now, for fear of the lifeless eternity i suffer.
not yet. i would will the fear of god into me,
to feel such things as you have.
this immortal lesson we have taught,
it has rendered our smiles far less vivid than i remember.

for there was a day-
there must have been, else my damnation has led me astray -
and i remember the lilies upon the path,
and the field in which you played.
but i spent those days hunting my fortune,
and only now i realize that the game we eat is our own, lost love.

love.
the tales have given me horns,
a tale,
boils,
a limp...
all that the pupils may think. for that is the curse.
and yet i will ask the question for you, one day.

about cain

to a field,
come to a field that i may rid myself of this sorrow.
to the forest stream and let me bathe there,
for days, until i have washed your blood from my eyes.
-
they say it was the first of its kind,
and that forever i shall wander in misery.
but misery loves company, or so they say,
and love is a powerful thing.
-
it is the other side of the story i never hear,
what makes the hate and kindles the fear,
and breaks the bonds
i'd kill to make.
-
so come to the field and feel my hate,
that i may later find a place for fate
and lie you down beneath the earth,
the first i've loved since our birth.

here is a secret:

i write poetry
about what i've never
really
done.

and i speak about things
that i've never
even
seen.

i'm just a boy in the end,
afraid of the things i'll never
ever
do.

and so i yelled back,

is there more to those words you said?
it's just that i am so young,
and you are so sure,
that i can't help but think
maybe your words cut deeper than i thought.

and maybe i am not the man i thought i was
and maybe the lake will disappear
so i can walk home dry
and realize what is to really be high.

cannabis

and what things might i do while i lose control?
what provocative,
unheard of,
debilitating habits can i find?

the odors of demise are in the air,
and here i find
a simple solution
to all the problems i have ever faced.

if i could escape for just one day,
and live it all in the only way -
my way -
would i end up

well,
this way?

growing pain

part of growing up is realizing when things are going wrong.
to know is just one step away from to do,
and i think nobody knows what to do with you.
can i just ignore the part of you that makes me fly?
or do i leave my preconceptions at the door,
and lose myself in the waves of perversion that murdered my friend?

i'll grow into the man i want to be one day not so far away.
and the forces that keep me going,
they will find a way to keep me going ever on and on.
will i ever meet the man i see myself wanting to become?
but it's all so muddled in mute,
so do i let the silence show me how to live in the solitude i'll always fear?

knowing when to stop is knowing when to hit the gas.
the man leaves the boy far behind,
and the car speed farther and farther away from hate.
can you smell the odor of burnt sage and experiments?
the ideals you left years ago,
coming back to show you that everything is always there?

part of being who you want to be
is being who you always were.

love

the smallest things remind him
of the greatest moments he'll ever have,
waiting in deep green fields of dreams,
blanketed in stars he may never see.

this is new

sometimes we yearn for regression.

"hopelessly; i'll love you endlessly"

and it's true, because you are the beginning of an era. all i can do is watch the light, burn the ethereal images of your beautiful morals into my vision and never lose sight. watch me watching you, river eyes, and know that you have changed one thing forever.

or have you simply changed everything for once?

this is old

i listen to the epiphany of wind in the trees swirling up to meet my music - there's nothing i can say that you can't refute, that years of sharing hearts and brains and pains won't have hardened you against. and all i need do is listen to the harmonizing sounds... it's been sung a thousand times, and a thousand times better, too. but endless repetition has only driven the point across - you noble belles know nothing of hell.

how's that for a quote? It's upon your worst emotions I dote - isn't it? feeding the flame with flax and grain until suddenly my troubles are much more than kindle. let's pinch each other once a day just make sure we know this life is actually play.

"did i strike the right set of chords? you're annoyed."

don't think i'll ever know what it means, but it sure sounds right.

novel thoughts

across the desert,
the stars are our bridge,
falling through fields of heather
and oceans of setting sun-rays.
for our broken bodies
will mend our broken ways,
and the journey of a ragged man
shows the village fool that
even for him,
there is more.

streetlight

i stand at the nexus,
the center of a star made of wires and trees -
and dreams -
but would the dreamer liked to have seen
that his invention lights up
every corner of lechery
ever hidden from the world?

caucus

and the world waits.
ten million breathless viewers -
this constitution has dissolved
into a horse-race,
a fight to the death.

every second
gives us one more insight
into the future.
is it the future i would
have?

writer

tap
tap
endlessly falling fingers
do their job -
but precision is finite
and tangents turn and wind
and the fingers take the mind out of
control.

tap
tap
every word erased brings the path
into view...
once more on track the words
write themselves until they come
to another fork in the road.