I think the longer we wait
the more of our skin we will shed away
two pools of souls swirling
solidifying what once were
(could have remained)
childish intentions

In that time:
two lips coming too close
the breathe of strangers colliding
invisible microfibers of energy
tickling the soft skin of the other
too strong in character to touch
until what is right is done

and time goes on
can’t help that
but days last a lot longer than they should
than they used to
making the mind wonder
if compromise really is higher than perfect

As we wait
the longer we wait
steps get closer
then the truthful voices will delicately come together
softly, in dimentions past time and existence
and quite the adventure might begin

af

(written on computer)

decide who you want to be
place faith in that
tighten everything up
and walk straight into that damn storm, headfirst!

the angles need no more playing
stop
decide
can’t you feel that wind outside?
don’t you know what time of the year it is?

everything seems like chaos
yet only in great chaos
perfect art is born;
embrace it
get swept up, dorothy…

it is all so powerful, fantastic;
the end of times is a figure of speech
applied to any part of your life
when you choose to walk a completely new path

that is the life decision of this lonely wanderer,
wanting and walking
such a fine line between realities;
your path of great novels and fairy-tales
is not your decision to be made by me

hold your baby tight
keep your eyes sharp
and smile at how inevitable your survival is…

as long as you keep going

af

(written on computer)

switch brown lighter on
blue flames burning red on green
then floating white mist

violence in the heart
do not ignore primal urge
grow strong, calm, and tame

a fan of paper
words doing nothing and still
are more real than life

rhetoric is real
a war can never be won
when will you believe?

the perfect flower
aged, wrinkled, strong with no doubt
about her beauty

they all have a scent
the aged wood floors of backstage;
all a past they hold

It is not just the gray sadness
It is an inability of the human mind
to unlearn its knowledge
to erase the images burned

It never recovers from the shock
of people’s indulgence of destruction
the lack of responsibility
the deficiency of remorse

The brain is capable of making the body hurt

Now I understand why
people refuse to know the truth

af

Come on in
It’s what the sign says, right?
Give us your hungry, your tired, your poor?
We want to take care of you
It is our God-given duty to do so…
We’re good people here

Come on in
As much as you need, whenever you need
Family is family, human is human
We have all wanted, and we are capable
of giving
and now want to
We’re good people here

Come on in
Those who are always in need still deserve
The words we have are kind
paying life forward
trading abundance for servitude
We all have thoughts, all have emotions
all are consumed with sadness more than
our hopes and expectations could imagine
But we’re good people here

Come on in
My soul is here to share
fifty-fifty, selfless, genuine
Facing against tides of rancor
Intrigued to leave it all, shed shirt and walk away
stepping into the unknown black hole of starting over
The desire we all dream of in our secret caves
Doing so because we know
We’re good people here

Come on in
The rhetoric is slowing down
Ignition, once started, must combust
Dying out in time as its fuels run dry
Then we will accept you
Stand by our promise, honor our integrity
Live up to the character expected
of us…

We’re good people here

af

bottled up energy I have forgotten how to burn
staring long at this screen trying to relearn
that nights are for the drifters
and if I am set to be one
as the omens hint at
then it is time to gear up, escape
quicken my feet up to run
and chase the sun

i stare and stare
same old nonsense
that has caused my family’s absence
from my life for seven strange years
organs aching
story never changes

dehydrated, thirsty for writing any page
of that deeper emotion i feel inside
the kind that would like to acknowledge
i am scared of what i know about the truth i am hidden from

stare into my eyes
grab hold of me
to push me to the edge takes far longer to travel
i am not where you can comprehend
i just need you for the battle

this energy never runs out
and too dangerous to stay inside
hardens, thickens, slows my route
hoping something will come along
to make me trust in what I am sure is gone
and to run run run run
until
i tire out
or find a home…

if ever

af

Is it because I look crazy?

Because I put on the first shirt I saw?
Or didn’t tend to my hair
before I left the apartment?

What about the fact that I come here
alone?
That I write, stay quiet and always look around?
Observe?
And always alone?

Perhaps I look like one type of stereotype
but really am a much different one?

What of me exposing my thoughts
quite obviously
quite carefree and naive
to anyone who cares to connect eyes?

Is it because you presume too much of man
and since I am different
I must be worse?
Could you not imagine
I might be better?

Does whatever I am doing and whoever I am
really make me that invisible or unimportant
to you?

All I want is just another cup of coffee.

af

(written with pen on paper, waiting for a refill)