(glance)

It's never too early

It's never too late-

I hope by and by,

my path demonstrates.

It's never a fault,

and it's never conceited-

It's not some grand illusion,

but don't feel defeated!

It's not a hard task,

but " simple's" not the word;

It's an investment you make-

a symptom that's cured.

It's as light as a penny,

but as heavy as wealth-

to bask in forgiveness,

and be okay with yourself.

night, you dreamkins.

temptation

It's nostalgia. Either towards a life that was or wished.

Pain. Towards a point of remembering.

Towards a point of reliving.

Or perhaps a dream.

It's control. Attempted. tempt.

It's a relief. Obviously. Even if you die to it.

Honorable death in war. That's normally when danger is ignored.

It's familiar.

We are letters with broken seals - a page missing.

I can't tell you the words you want to hear.

They're just as broke broke as you could hope.

You're a spiders' web of wrong turns.

You're a broken skillet and finger burns.

You have a silly habit of being alive -

but we really don't know if you truly survive:

your screams and screams, at nothing at all.

You scream and scream at a blank blank wall.

If we are truly predisposed to death, you are the catalyst.

We all have it coming,

But you got it running.

Hit the ground running on 39 broken legs.

40's just gonna give you more bandages to change.

Do you get it now? Even your breath has got to breathe.

Even your changes have got to evolve.

You eyes must see everything new.

Encyclopedia Brown that shit.

Give me a hug and mean it. I do.

No one gets on this list and leaves without a fight.

I want to give you something to yell about. to write home about. to write "H.O.M.E." about.

to write it down. to fill those blank, blank walls. So go.

go.

It's all there for you. inside you.

I never lied about this.

But I basically lied about everything else possible.

I did:

My art.

My age.

My name.

My love.

My innocence.

My fear.

My limits.

My sanity.

endlesss-----

But I never lied about this:

It's all there for you. Inside you.

That's where all the lies are kept, as well.

There are great things. Beautiful things.

Aspects, habits, capabilities, lessons, talents, passions.

yes. it's all there. surprise.

But yes, you could forget. Choose to forget. Distract. Discount. Disappear.

©©©©©©

I am the buzz of a television after you have gone to bed.

I will shake, and shake, and shake, and shake.

I can spill the stories of thousands of years at your feet.

But you will not wake. not wake. not be woked. wook. wouk. ed.

The T.V. that is me will spit out sparkle names,

chant the parts of your body, eat a little meaning.

It bleeds light in such a sorrowful way. Gifts,

never ever seen again. The light fades past my ears.

right and left.

The light picks up the particle in air of my bedroom.

The curtains of light sweep over my eyes, exposing a new layer,

like a viscous fabric shield of a lake, or bathtub.

Or glass of water at the house of a playmate.

The lever of fingers.

Hold well, the walls of your heart.

They will try to crumble at the sight of the great beyond.

you have what it takes.

good night.

Don't worry about things-They've already worried enough about you.

I don't want anyone to see me.

But I kind of want them to see me.

I don't want anyone to hear me.

But I sort of want everyone to hear me.

I'm singing in the rain again: I have ceased to fear.

If you understand much about marine biology, or any biology, or grocery shopping-

When they get rid of something that we all relied on - Something else will come along that fills the void until the expected better option replaces it. Except it rarely does.

I have a buddha laugh bubbling up inside right now. It's proving to be a bit ridiculous. I am a believer in positivity. It's productive, it's supportive, and it's novel. apparently. I just want to tell them all. I just want to let them know. Let them in on the secret. We will open the old rusty latch and brush away the ivy to find the handle to an ancient, musty wooden door. The wall will inhale/exhale with the unexpected breach. Like a surprise glance from the exit of an airplane terminal.library.CVS parking lot. But there you will be, closing the door behind you, with the relapse and the darkness and plenty of cigarettes several inches behind a whistling forever. a stifling never of locks and bit-off nails.

for now.

oh behave...

there's a hint of danger in everything he touches.

Under the rain, under a tree

this place for us to become 'we.'

I'll give you a secret,

you'll give me a look.

I'll publish your nuance

in a leatherbound book.

Translations will spread,

in all manners and forms-

Adaptations will spring,

a piece each culture performs.

From odes in the highlands,

to cries from the sea.

Silent poems grow from the empty,

so they will always find me.

**

I will grind the teeth right down. All the way down.

So I gum my toothbrush in fretful fretful fear.

I will press my eyes 'til my tears I can finally control.

But that still won't make you appear.

There are too many questions. selfishness. opinions. blah.

I will give and sacrifice and spend time alone with you.

But that still won't make you stay.

I could set up camp in your living room, making tea and serving up tid bits of old news.

But that still won't keep your attention.

Gladly. Gladly.

a leak

fsss...

just a little hole,

a slight imperfection...

letting out the pressure, the power, the purpose.

get off my yard.

get off my yard.

off.

I'm not angry. Anger is unproductive.

I'm confused. I don't get it. I don't get the look, the lies, the phrases.

REEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAL.

like a body. broken by traffic. bullets. be as real as the cadaver of my grandfather. immediate. say something that you feel. my grandfather couldn't feel, so I felt him. static. stuffed. candle cold. be something significant. not simply something easy. please, don't be comfortable.

i don't care to have it.

because you don't know, obviously, what makes me comfortable. intention, intention, intention.

fsssss...

a leak, a break-

a sleek mistake.

get over it.

hoo

I feel like I just had a heart attack. melodramaaaa

your flight fell twenty feet inflight and your eastern soul got ripped out, still,

noise noise noise noise noisen,

poison.

If something is important to you. PLEASE.

make it so.

make it so. I know, I know I say that now. I KNOW. I get it. I'm learning. I'm aching. I'm aging. I feel the tug. When I don't sleep well, and I wake fitful, wretched.

I'm spitballing now. I'm adorned with paper-lantern-post-its. crinkly fur. pastel petals, pin-pricked to my first shirt. my first shirt. each note a screeching misspelled secret that I don't believe. Yet, I keep writing them. Each mirrored surface in double. once for my ego, once for my echo. both to spurn me.

cold pockets. I keep them empty.

What is it that I do? I push the boundaries. Mine. Of course I'm alone. Not a question. Geometry. When you shift the fabric towards the shape of a cone. A shuddering speed, one direction, til there is really only one space to sit in, and then you thrust your sword in that last crevice of attention. early blindness. always blindness. blurredness. assuredness.

cold pockets. If they were full, the silhouette would be ruined.

I think that I am really the soul of some monk of me traveling well into another town/country/custom. get it?

He was sailing away from the coast with the strict task of belief. To listen, to sit, to liquify- and I still stuck at the door of our departure, realizing what my home looked like from a few steps away in the yard. Rotating like an owl-head, piercing the nostalgia again and again, with my body and my plans LEAGUES ahead.

Maybe I should go. Amongst the animals.

Side note, someone put me on a rack and Strrre-----tch me. I feel like my boots look.

HEART, RESTART, HEART, RESTART.