Adventure!

Tell me again how we were running
So fast that our footprints became stars
How our hands were latched
Together holding on the way
Wings do to their body.

Tell me again, how it was
And the way our voices intertwined
And filled up the night
like water does in a bucket
Till we were overflowing.

Then show me how it stopped,
the way time can sometimes
And everything changed forever.

Tell me you’d do it again.
Tell me you’d fix it if you could.
Tell me this isn’t worth dying for.

In the dark of night the lime light always looks so delicious. Plagued by those deep desires everything becomes that much more clearer. The lines blur over. Fact grows less confident, fiction grows more bold.

In the bright glow of the sun the path you must wander becomes so clear. Like the ridge line on a mountain top, only less easy, less fun and the views are far more hazy - but still every bit as exposed. Just keep one foot in front of the other.

Things like this are oh so trivial.

Just the second hand smoke. The after effect. The awful alternative.
the fun part is knowing your there. the not-fun part is knowing that you don't care.
Shock-therapy: "cut the head off the dog" (Bolivian Economics style.)

at trust at love and hope.
in the still of the night the quiet is always the last thing you want to hear.

you can fake it for the air waves.

I'm sorry.

I can't be everything i want to be and i never own up to everything i want to be. second chances are the first start to everything. Stop fucking with me.

I can't deal with plagiarism. I can't deal with anything that I can even misconstrue as being anything else than what it actually is.

In the midst of a storm, you always find yourself thinking just as you've reached the calm. The tide is rising. The damage is about to come.

Left.
Right.
Wrong.
Back.
Forwards.

Fuck directions

hopelessly hopeful.

you can never say what you need to. Speech is silver, but silence is gold.

Love love love
hate love love hate.

Upside down and inside out... from comparing myself / to everyone else around me...

"Please put the doctor on the phone cause i'm not making any sense"

my back has been breaking from this heavy heart.

Come back with the answers.
Stop running.
Just stop running.

Gray sweatshirts are the furthest place from home. Embrace the anger.
Love the hate. And just move to the beat. Just move on. Fairytales are way to overrated, you are way to smart for that shit.

you get so confused by simple things. stand tall, fly straight, QUACK.

stop falling short. you are so much better than what you are settling for. Set the bar high. Fuck the fact that everyone falls short. Fuck. It doesn't matter


***

life is short so love the one you got...

it is the little things


the smile during the day

that certain note from that special song

it gives you hope

it gives you life

enjoy it

swim in it


because it is your time, time to shine, time to smile, time to be you


nothing else matters but that moment in time, that pull in space

love it, hold it


live it...

***

easier said then done.

If you can't love the one you love , love the one your with. Except

Every fucking time it's always that one look that "if i could look" that "god I want to look" that FUCK THIS IT ISN'T FAIR LOOK. God. Someone should just be like FUCK YOU, you suck. I rock. fuck you fuck you fuck you... HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO FUCKING TELL HIM?! At least 9 tonight. He hasn't got a clue.

I know. I know who I should love. Who i want to love. But it isn't logical. So confused.

***

fate fell short this time / your smile fades in the summer.

so goddamn ironic.

you think you can let an idea go until you remember how brightly the fire burns inside you.

The way life unravels forcing you to choose is so unfair: The ethical course of action versus that of your heart. How can you compete - when one goes against the very nature of your humanity where the other goes against the nature of your soul. Dishonesty.

Always choose human. Always choose the moral path.

Is honesty always right? Dishonesty, too, can be a virtue. It is not always proper to "spill ones guts." The writing on the wall is sometimes in hieroglyphics and maybe, it'd be wrong to decipher it.

I can't get you out of my head. My eyes close and I sleep to dream and dream to sleep and wake to find that all my actions revolve around that one glimmer of hope that doesn't exist. Painful.

Remember that time when you were eight years old and you went out in a fighter plane? You fought the migs not because you didn't care for the enemy pilots but simply because you didn't know what other choices where out there....

But somewhere in all the years you grew up and learned. It's not as simple as A or B. Left or Right. Every path has ten million forks and it's up to you to find the right one.

The ins and outs of being yourself are never more tricky than when it involves someone else...

If I could rewrite the past, I'd write it so that in the present you wouldn't be flesh and blood and bone. You would still just be a figment of my imagination.

You would still just be petty stone uncarved. An idea of an idea of an idea.

To love is a painful ordeal indeed.

1.
Last night you
wandered in my dream
tail wagging

A little skip in your step
your brown eyes
big, wide and begging

A hello long overdo

2.
The ruffles in my sleeping bag
Cling where you should lie
and feel nothing like fur.

3.
Once wandering,
we found a dead deer
And you

In solemnity
Barked
once
And lay nose nudging
her feet

Saying, I'm sorry
I'm so sorry, We
Didn't make it in time
Like you were best friends

4.
The conversation
We had when you were dying

You waiting for me
Then looking fervently
Into my eyes, asking

And me saying, yes, yes,
It's fine, I'll be fine.

5.
Me, on the beach alone
Searching for somewhere
to put my head
To mourn.

From the inside out everything is all wrong. You look like a dorwning man standing in that puddle, she says.

She says.
He says.
They say.
He says.
She says.

Are you hearing this???

copy that...

cycle it over.
Relax.
Repeat.


The passage of time is a fickle thing. One moment your up to your head in fireweed the next thing you know it your up to you knees in books. In and out and in between pages, places, faces.

So many different races going on right now. I'm not sure which ones I'm racing. I'm not sure which one's I've lost or won or am just standing on the side-lines cheering.

"Boy, why are you crying?"

Lost your shadow again. Well I won't sow that sucker back on. Drift on guiltless. Get swept away among the stars. Scream your freedom. Sing your shame. Stutter all the in betweens and you-know-whats and all those secrets lying precariously inbetween your lips.

Sometimes your fingers hit the keys and spill secrets that aren't even yours. Sometimes you start typing and the rhy-rhy-rhythm catches you so off guard you start writing something and you have no idea what it means. The sound of your subconscious is a powerful thing.

Let that lion roar, baby.

And sometimes you get so lost at Staring at the stars you miss all the rockets sailing just past your head.
Don't wish on shooting stars. Wish on stars that have the courage to shine where they are.

Nature whispers secrets in the wind and if you're quiet you can hear them. The pitter-patter of fox feet on the lawn always reminds me of spring time, even in the fall.

Somedays you wake up with hairpins and bow ties. Sometimes you wake up with lives (lies) sprawling out at your fingertips and you don't know what to do so you WRITE. Right.

You write the wrongs or the wrongs write you and you right the wrongs and you fight the write but you can't fight the right because write always wins and you right yourself up just to see your head spin and you write the right that you want to be right but it always ends up coming out wrong and

there we go.

Another deja vu.

Did you know, I can see angels kissing the devil inside of you.

The truest miracle of All.

And you can't get the record out of your head that keeps spinning and saying ALL WARS START IN OUR HEARTS AND THAT'S WHERE THEY SHOULD BE FOUGHT and you can't stop dreaming of this and that and the other where you right the wrongs where there is PEACE ON EARTH and GOODWILL TOWARDS MEN and all that stuff everyone remembers at christmas but forgets the other eleven and a half months of the year.

Did you know in World War One on Christmas at a battle field two enemies who were shooting each other the day before played a game of soccer together? The next day, they blew each other to smitherines.

I don't understand.

The ins and outs of ins and outs of ins and outs of in and outs of in in in and out out out

Please. Please. Please.

you write what you think before your mihnd can digest it and end up throwing up everything that doesn't make sense at the moment.

Did you know, I can see the devil kissing angels inside of you

And look

look

look

on this day a savior is born

and on this day a kingdom is born
and on this day a star is born
and on this day a doctor
and a lawyer
and a mother
and a boy destined to murder

they're all born.

Everyone born.
Living
breathing

Oxygen
the ins and outs of breath in your lungs an automatic response from your brain --- the will to live --- oxygen becoming carbon dioxiode becoming food for plants becoming food for you again and again and again

Up.
Down.
Up.

Lungs upon lungs of movement. A breath of wind (God's whisper).

And all of a sudden you lean closer and say, look at this, look at this, a perfect snowflake.

And I once thought that if you had perfection in your hand it would stay there
But all it does is
melt
away

the moment you grab hold of it.

I once saw a perfect flower
but I passed it by
and left it

for someone else
to pick

and play
games.