to the abandoned

with broken hearts

and shattered dreams

and trampled smiles

and worried gleams

in eyes like diamonds

in eyes like honey

in eyes like forests

in eyes like sunny

days and moon nights

just as we've always been

until someone can see

the things we've seen

and want to share

but are too afraid

who've been forgotten

who've been betrayed.

ask her for a hero.

last resolution

Send me a train. 

And let it smash through me slowly, dispersing my fragments amid the free air like particles of beautiful, broken dust. 

I'll wait. Here. On the tracks. 

Strike fear in me until I reach my final moment.

Then release the particles that have been so long undiscovered into the wide open melodies.

Maybe I've got the wrong address, but you're the only one who driftingly understands.

i cannot have a new post

there are bitter things that only i know
not even you
my confidants
strangely disappearing,
easier than writing
lonelier than crying
more damaging than lying
further away than flying
an alternative to dying
yet we have not lived.
what have we, then,
have we not life?
this is my bitterness,
in a way i wish no one could inquire
nor a commentary
nor a passing condolence.
like birds in spring
one to the other
all together
again, again, again,
flying to a bliss,
a mirth,
a utopia.
leaving me once friends are made.
don't they know i'm still in need?!
yet they know
more so than myself
that no wings can lift this emptiness...
to be filled would be to fly.

pretended empty.

And here lies the canvas.

Blank and daunting.

Begging my words to be real.

But how can they?

To please both the love

And the lover.

To bring to smile both the heart

And the beloved.

And the silence is a catalyst

Producing more of it’s kind

Over in her mind

For someone else

And someone new.

Blades of organic

Shoot up sporadically 

But not enough 

To rapture a soul.

Now that words exist,

The page stands blank as ever

Tempting to recall memories

Of a life in dreams.

Why for you, always you?

Instead of the committed? 

To love in endless cycles,

Or live like unwashed intervals?

Maybe the wiser

Would leave blank the canvas. 

euphemisms

 Scale my memories from piece to piece, loving all the way--all the way down.

Tangled in these truths that are fantasy--a deception sleeping with integrity.

Abandonment. Our only hope. Our fears burned away at the stake of oblivion. We shall sacrifice.

 Nepenthe recollections streak down our faces, into our souls - begging to drug these sinless outcasts into love. 

Tamed is our perspective of the world in window view - stuck in cages of normality. We may be the only escape for ourselves.

Onward stretched desires of your eyes and mouth and hands. Creeping to corners of my un-graphed mind; a smile of immortal extents.

Naked, our hearts fall to their knees, facing frigid brutality, martyrs for forbidden love. 

the room

Like a light left on by a traitor in the stars.

Here is the secret.

Here is the secret.

My pieced soul is yours, eternally obliterated.

These are my secrets.

These are my secrets.

Your eyes hold the semblance of two clashing men.

Tell me your secrets.

Tell me your secrets.

Safe from judgment in the shadows of your depth.

This is our secret.

This is our secret.

Diversity like a garden swing romance.

More than a secret.

More than a secret.

Yourself can fall back like the moon on the tide.

You are a secret.

You are a secret.

Fantastical realities, Utopia for half-heart lovers.

Won't you be my secret?

Won't you be my secret?

Like music and lyrics and soft-footed dancers.

Give away secrets.

Give away secrets.

Clandestine are smiles and vivid is pain.

Steal every secret.

Steal every secret.

exception

I never asked to be in love. 

It seemed to average, too caging. 

“If I fall in love with only one person,” 

I thought, 

“I may miss out on falling in love with everyone else around me.” 

The thing is, the sea is FULL of fish, and I wanted them all. 

Until recently, that is. 

I can’t sing pretty love songs, 

I can’t be beautiful, 

I can’t speak lovely words, 

and I can’t be graceful and charming. 

I can be wild, 

I can dance until I die, 

I can write eloquently, 

and I can laugh loudly. 

I’ve never been enough of a girl to be taken seriously; 

they all just pass by me flirtatiously, 

occasionally taking what’s not theirs, 

but in the end, 

I’m still the untamable gypsy soul that can’t commit. 

Until recently, that is. 

I’ve never meant enough to myself to consider love—

love is for girls that want and deserve knights in shining armor. 

I’ve always been willing to settle for a hobo with a nice smile, 

or a drunk with too much compassion for his own good, 

or a pothead without the slightest care in the world. 

Who was I to take a good girl’s good boy? 

Instead I was easy, 

playful, 

totally reckless. 

Until recently, that is. 

Because recently, I fell in love. 

After long months of pointless denial 

including sleepless nights 

and days too tired to eat, 

I gave in. 

I fell, 

expecting to hit hard and be hurt, 

be abandoned. 

That didn’t happen, though. 

Maybe love found me, 

finally taking me over after victimizing me for years. 

Or maybe I found love 

amid the clutter 

of disguised broken-ness 

and best friends.

 It doesn’t hurt to fall when you’ve got someone to fall with. 

It feels like the heartbeats of a bird in summer. 

A bright red bird that chirps about, 

it’s heart beating faster than the lazy sky, 

and more peacefully than the world. 

That’s what love feels like, 

even though I never asked to be in love. 

the voice

do words exist before they.. exist? 

(yes.)

why do we sacrifice the soul depth of words?

(to be understood.)

what is the use of a blog?
(to be heard.)

will we ever see the end to which our means intend to accomplish?

(maybe...)

W R I T E .

the first

relax, 

he says.

chill.

stop.

just stop.

stop being in control.

stop caring.

stop being perfect.

stop everything-

all but peace.

hear harmonies

from skies

from earth

from us.

listen.

breathe,

he says.

foreign concept.

softly 

are my footfalls.

softly

are his strums.

sing softly

sing melody.

he does.

and i listen.

just listen.

i can see

chords in the air

twirling around

like black ribbon.

warm atmosphere

like 

peppermint tea

steeping

in our lungs.

melody.

listen.

relax. 

s t r i k e t h r o u g h

Reality is really heavy.

But really beautiful.

Except for sometimes...

Even beauty needs to be escaped.

And henceforth.

i m a g i n a t i o n .

A new reality.

And from this will blossom the majority,

Although not the entirety,

Of my words.