Storytelling

From the free flowing frame of interlocking limbs
to the treacherous trails of barricaded harmonies,
it's one way to the darkness
and it's the same SUNSHINE all the ever loving time.
With your head clenched in a vice of relaxing yet
modestly provocative high-flying acts you might call out,

"Who goes there?"

And hear no feedback.

Well, then.

You goes there, you might think. And you think you goes there alone.

Go ahead, lie to yourself. Onward, ho. It's only rational.

To believe otherwise? Would that be uncredible incredibility?

Instability? Or instant ability?

Well are you going to take me to your leader or aren't you?

At least tell me his stories.

Storytell to me until I fall asleep.

Then I'll return the favor and storytell to you

until you

float awake.

Inextricably Intertwined

I'm wallowing in murderous hypocrisy

for the time being but come morning,

I'm sure I'll be pretending that dying is not a riot

and ask that you take whatever

you have to take to captivate me:

Diamond ring in a China shop,

bird's eye view from a table top.

Have you always been so strong?

Tell me what you know

about how nightmares choose

which doors to let themselves in through

because I always seem to need you

when you've become quiet and I think

it's time for me to get used to

the way you look in the dark.

Even though I felt the Psalms

dripping from my palms

before I knew where they came from,

I've never been more scared of your love.

Yet I'd walk 49 united states for one day of it.

I want to hurry home and let the ghosts sleep

but if I don't have what it takes to wake them up again

and shoo them from my dwelling place, I'll ask you

if you wouldn't mind doing it.

I'm sorry that my words don't do you justice

and I'm sorry that I continue to throw myself

over the thresh holds of other peoples' melodies.

You're a story with no beginning

and an incandescently pleasurable non ending.

Your eyes see minds that have changed.

Your eyes see minds that have stayed the same!

From the bottom of the deepest chambers of my rocky heart,

thank you for not being a gray area.

But even more, thank you

for having allowed me to believe

that you are.

I wish I were good at you.

I wish I could stop forgetting how you so gracefully

cast away fear and plant seeds and cycle us through ourselves,

and each other,

and you.

I'd rather be surrounded by your biggest mistakes

than my greatest accomplishments.

When I thought about thinking about you,

I talked to myself

but it just wasn't the same.

Always please:

find me, chase me, bring me home.

I feel you everywhere.

There is so much something in my heart.

Mountains of it. But I can't tell

the joy from the sorrow.

So I will choose joy.

I will choose you.

I'm yours.

For all my Yous

I can feel again, she said. After all this time. 

So she wrote.

Sanctity strikes like a side swiping, sky splitting swish and pangs of pain ache in wistful waves. No direction and miles to go. Baby blues, blink twice if it's what you want to do. Baby greens, take a number for the memories that come at me like a fastball on the daily welcomed but not able to be silenced. Clips from then and clips from now and clips from everywhere and nowhere and with them and with him and without and with me and with her and with people I haven't met yet. And voices inside me bicker and argue and agree and laugh and I don’t know them but they sound familiar, like Lithuanian conversations I can't take part in but can identify taking place. And this reminds me of him and his rooms and his walk and his being holy and his kisses I would shy away from and his leaving and his coming back and his alwaysness and his being gone now but maybe only for now and I hope only for now and I know. Bringing us all together. I know that time is an illusion we are confined to within ourselves and I know. I know that hope is a gift from someone who knows better. And I know that I don’t know that I know that I don’t know. And I feel like I know and I know that I feel like I feel like I know and I want to go back and I never want to go back and there’s nothing to do and there is everything I can do to keep from crying and laughing at the same time so I shall do it all the time and for who? And for what? For no one and for everything. I heard that man's reach should exceed his grasp or what's a heaven for? The space around me now is me and I will cherish it for everything it is and I will keep calm and carry on and remember you all and remember playing with fire and the gasoline and the heat. I will remember the heat and how I cannot pinpoint the day it went away. And I will play you back through the reels that I don’t control in a manner I don’t mind. Whoever said it should be simple? Warum sollte das Leben einfach sein wann Komplexität so schön ist? Remember the plane taking off? Remember the table for one? I love the way it sounds now. REMEMBER WHEN YOU LEFT WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE? I still cry. Remember "forever" and how I didn't want it and how you tried to give it to her instead? Remember that one time I made you laugh? Remember. Never forget how she is with you in everything you touch and make and break. And do you remember the pay phone call carrying you to me across thousands of miles? Writing "I love you" on my hand when you returned? Remember the unfortunate moment I told you I would risk everything? Do you remember me watching you literally walk away? I stood under cold water with my clothes on to try and wash off the sad. Remember when I discovered your secret? Remember when you lived between my ears for years? I didn’t think you would care if I kept you there. Your memory warmed me until I didn't need you anymore. Thank you for laughing with me whenever I want to and whenever we have to. I will always love. You can keep what’s mine. It’s yours. You are the epitome of magnanimousness. You’d already won me over and I will never forget what you brought into my life because you are me and I am you and we are we and we are them, too. I’m so glad that you exist. I’m so head over feet about it that I could just drop dea

That's all she wrote. It was time to go. 

Thank you, Yous, for making me Me. 

The Well

How did I get down here, you ask?

Well, after throwing in all my wishes,

I figured I better follow in after them,

for I had nothing left to give.

And now I'm stuck! I yell for help

but nobody hears me.



Odd it is then, that I should notice

how truly blue the sky appears

looking up from here.

To pass the time, I enjoy finding shapes

in the clouds.



But the fact of the matter is:

I'm still stuck at the bottom of the Well.



Sometimes,

the very thing you are wishing for

is not wishing for you.

So just breathe! --

Because blue does the sky stay.

Untitled

So when the winds sweep you up from your wounds
and you need a place to lay your head--
try underneath the images you built yourself up from
in your twilight years.

Trials of the Road

You jump in your car but you're already late
Then a train, heavy traffic, school crossings - You wait
For pedestrians, equestrians, and cyclists galore,
And you narrowly avoid a fender bender or four

Speeding ticket, thick fog, and the radio's broken,
"Are we there yet?", wrong exit, and your transmission's smokin',
Construction, dead-end, swerve! Fallen tree!
Then BUMP! goes the cat that you just didn't see

On top of all that, someone just cut you off!
You speed up to pass them, flip the bird, and then scoff
You look down at the gauge and realize you need gas
When did driving become such a pain in the butt?


But just when you thought it would never be
You've finally made it!............... to the DMV

You're welcome.

If I filled a bucket with each tear I've shed for you,

I'd have a bucket

with a very shallow pool inside.

Thanks for "every"(no)thing.

Winter

Lullaby Bandit,

weep me a song

long after notions 

and flitters are gone

 

Til the breaking of day

and the onset of eve

I could stare at the space

in between you and me

 

In true burnout fashion

you lingered in wait

til the passing of limits

and fusion to bait

leavings and being lefts

It seems to me that this series of sunrises and sunsets goes hand in hand with a collection of leavings and being lefts, the succession of which, has little to do with whether or not we do what we think is best, but everything to do with whether or not the sunrises and sunsets continue to occur just like they always have for many, many years so I will continue to act accordingly whether it be self-medication by attempting to chew what I have bitten off or burying the being lefts into the corners of my mind, but not the darkest corners of my mind like you might imagine would be a good place to hide things, but rather, the corners of it too blindingly lit to venture into with any kind of protective eyewear I own, the excessive light having come from, you guessed it, the sun and the third option then is becoming a leavings before becoming a being lefts and it is this last option that does not burn so brightly as the sun but is more of a milky haze like the moon who, despite his best efforts, will never actually meet the sun but follows him around in circles like a small dog, or a puppy, if you will, day by day and night by night which is so very much like the kind of moon I should like to be.

Not you, either.

To sift between the sparkle in his eye and the
position it puts my insides in is an unimaginably
daunting task that I care not to tend to now.

Rather, can I think about the sparkle getting
louder when certain things happen at certain times
in just such a way that it has a circular affect?
Not that I'm asking for permission.
So I will think about it, thank you very much.

But I want so much of what I do not, cannot have.
And I want so much of what I can and do have.
That I don't know what to do with the happy
in my heart. I shall try to give it to you. And you.

Even though you don't deserve it. But then!:
I didn't deserve it
in the first place!

No,
no one deserves anything.

Of that, I am certain.

And I am certainly some one.

Intended Reprise

You wrote a poem about the sun,

let me glance at it for one second,

and covered my eyes,

to protect yourself.

Miles & miles to get to you.
Why is it always like a song?
But I don't want to listen, just play.
I am who I never wanted to be.

All systems engaged,
I want out of this crazy-craft.
Drop me off where I didn't know any better
and leave me there.

Then cover your eyes and protect me.

What doesn't kill me makes my heart harder.

My dad had a cat named Secret.

I have secrets with other people

that


 even I 

don't know about.



That is a good secret.

here & there.

geographically speaking,
there is more ground to be covered
than i have seen.
oh how i'd love to traverse every bit of it.
the way two roads i've traveled often
will meet at a place that i was
completely unaware of
makes my skin quiver
(in a good way.)
& i dont know why
but i can't shake the addiction
to the gloriousness
of remembering the way
a familiar place felt
the first time.
sometimes to recreate it,
i'll get on the floor and look
at where i am from upside down.
perspective breeds understanding.

home? no, no.
i do not think home is a real thing.
a nice idea though-- like soulmates.
no homes, just places;
familiar spaces.
here & there.
people you know that live there
& things you keep there.
& i love
the way the light tastes different
on different days &
sounds different from different angles
but a place is always the same
place
no matter what the light does.

metaphorically speaking,
there is more ground to be covered
than i have seen, too.
but as for what i have seen? well,
i'd like to thank my good friend, geography,
for always being there for me
when i need miles to put between.
it's best to keep your favourite places
spread far & wide, i think.

fly away, little bird.

fly fast & far away

to the other place.

Tricked.

Can't start over because

that's not how it works.

Be tricked until you die

and what's the difference?

One sock came off in my sleep.
Wild and weird and fantastically deep.

Ich möchte aufwachen und erkennen dieses war alles ein schrecklicher Traum.

Render Me This

We can't say we weren't warned

that thrilling music triggers reward centers

or that the anatomy of gadgets welcomes

the inherent self-destruction

of atheistic cartoons.

Oh, the disaster of a good neighbor

understanding human behavior.

His advice to you:

Try on a phantom's grief

for some quick hits

or prepare for more mythology

telling of a wormlike snake

from a land that no longer exists.

So shoots a later smoking gun

remodeled into "I love you.

You're perfect."

Perfect like

golden rules,

regional dialects, and

over exposed networks

of mutually beneficial

things.

So what's there left to do?

Teach a kid to argue.

Engage your personal success factors.

Give yourself a break.

What do you say?

The battle for your mind occurs

when you're in pursuit of the sublime

or something of that nature.

Compositionally, it isn't as sound

as it should be.

Structurally, it lays tangent to

many tangents.

And I am now exactly one time closer to Heaven

in comparsion with how things yoused to be.

And quick evolution may lead to quiet crickets

rendering my language half full.

But poetry will make you into you so

let's not make this something it's not.

The healthiest decisions of your life

can be stumbled upon!

They can be taxing, but can also be viewed orbitally

like a radically chic, scientifically abused

merry-go-round of wickedness.

Even flash floods can be

chillingly inspirational

like lonely, new jellyfish mosaics

in a mathematically rundown

bootstrap paradox.

File under: unfinished.

Let's wait under the bus.

Bullshit,

bullshit,

bullshit,

bullshit.

The end.

blink

blink

suave

blink blink

controlled

blink

unaffected

blink

unintrigued

blink blink

intrigued

blink blink

falling



fallen






fell
apart.




blink

Even in the midst of the automated
rehydrated
underrated
fires of my mind
I can't sleep under
these conditions
and why should I
filled up with greed and pining
nevermind the winning and the
shining
let alone
the sinning and the dining

writing captions with CAPSLOCK on

Welcome to the Facebook Status, not to be confused with PostSecret.

Well it all goes towards what it is
we're trying to say.