Ukraine

In this sea of black and grey,

I stand out like golden frizz.

Only if you catch me smile,

Do I shine my champagne-fizz.

These charcoal, smokey, granit waves,

Are rocking me to slumber now.

This little speck of flaxen frizz,

Finds comfort in the dingey bow.

Your fragile heart and one-track-mind,

Would get crumbled, broken, see?

By my new friend, this Thunderic Ocean,

Who I now love, at ashen sea.

In this sea of black and grey,

I stand out like golden frizz.

Only if you catch me smile,

Do I shine my champagne-fizz.

A stoic gang of hard-edged statues,

Make up my new lovely crew.

I grip on close to obstinate rock,

That has an ancient, worn tattoo.

Survival, the one word on your mind,

In capital letters and grey,

I see your fair-candy center,

You still are who you are today.

In this sea of black and grey,

I stand out like golden frizz.

Only if you catch me smile,

Do I shine my champagne-fizz.

Acorns

Sailing alone through this dark abyss; you're the one thing on my mind.

These stinging stars once burned so clearly but now our tears will make us blind.

Shooting stars are angels from heaven, falling like acorns on blood stained snow.

You felt so real and smelled like forever, I can't believe I'm letting you go.

If loose lips sink ships, then tortured tongues bury cities. 

I swear I'll find your hand through this ruble and I'll never let you go.

Psalms

I've got that tired.
That one that stays in your stomach,
it's liquid metal in your lungs.

I've got that tired.
The kind that you can't shake off
with a 2-dollar-coffee and a pen in your hand.

I've got that tired.
And dammit all
if I'm out of cigarettes.

I've got that tired.
That grind your teeth to powder
and plan it out for Monday.

I've got that tired.
With yesterday's makeup set deep
and no hope for a shoe-shine.

I've got that kill-me-dead, laugh until your bones quake, rub rocks in your eyes, and call upon your Gods for mercy - tired.

And I am strait-set for another long haul.

Thunder Beauty

Children's belly's swollen with rage that their ignorant mouths cannot be held accountable for.
The older trees, the ones with unknown power just sway wherever the winds tell them.
Generations of traditions tangled with red tape from tangos of too many years.

- Where are the Fires? -

Men in black suits at black-tie-affairs sneak affairs with women who have black eyelids.
While wolves in sheep clothing slash necks and everybody is too busy looking at their own reflections.
Drink a little more, sleep a little less. "Everyone's doing it!" That is the lie.

- Where are the Fires? -

We have too much time, but the sands are deceiving. Everyone smile for the cameras.
It sickens me down, but nobody listens. They are too busy looking @ internet FrrIenDzZz.
Just rip my heart out with your too-white-teeth and replace it with something shiny, please.

- Where are the Fires? -

The Thunder Children, we are too few.
With a flame in our hearts and anger in our fists.
We can change this. We really can.

You just have to ask yourself,

- Where are the Fires? -

This is where I would usually end the post, but I am going to add on by quoting lyrics written by Simon & Garfunkel.

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence

Perception

You smiled like I didn't know 

Little did you know I knew it

Draw it up. Curl it back. Pearly whites are gazing 

Blinding but I see right through

Perceptions hazy but the metaphors are blazing

The more you learn the less you know

Stay stupid. Stay green. Leaves change, then die you see? 

So much for standing out. You think that's what it's all about

This circle of life only encircles so much,

 So why wait when you can open that door yourself

Break it down. Shout it out. This is what we're all about

Leave 'em like you left 'em. Dice 'em into sections

Drill that tooth. Steal their truth. Thieve those diamonds. Pull 'em loose

Wrap them up like Mother Goose

Hide it then divide it but don't split that seed inside it

See it but don't buy it 

Only see if you can try it

The Black Giraffe.

Do you notice me when I walk your way?

I walked right by you the other day. 

There you were, like you always are,

Splatted dark against the floor. 

How long have you been there? 

How long will you stay? 

I wonder these things as I pass your way. 

Surely you know you'll be here a while, 

Surly you'll be here longer than I. 

My days are final. 

I know they have number, 

but those numbers give me life. 

What's your life like laying there? 

Are your days final? 

Do they have number? 

Like a friend you greet me everyday, 

but how many others see you this way? 

I doubt they notice or even care,

that a black giraffe is laying right there. 

Right where? Right where?

Here, right here. 

You lay right there and you never move. 

Why don't you move? Why are you here? 

Run away.

Forelsket

I don't think I'll ever adjust

Nothing is how it was before

I look into the mirror and you stare back

But everything is different now

There are these moments...

You stare at me like you always do

Except your face is not the one I know

It's been replaced by a foreign mask 

I'm always so shocked to see it there

Every time I see it, my stomach churns...

In these moments I feel myself falling

And it's not the good kind of falling either

Rather, the painful type that break bones

The crushing type that bursts organs

The heart (of course) being the first one to go... 

I'm not sure why I look at you 

And I'm sure I look like a fool when I do

Your eyes pierce right through me like I'm a ghost 

I don't understand how I'm here but I'm nothing

Like a scribbled pencil mark-- erased then replaced

These are the moments that swallow me whole

I just don't know who's the Villain this time

Hearts built for love now poisoned by hate 

Which one of us is the monster? 

I can't decide, so I cry for us both

"Darkness can only be scattered by light, hatred can only be conquered by love." 

-John Paul II

Magazine Bible

Beautiful cacophonous looks to climb
Killing time with Ancestral bows
Bowls bumbling and turnpike river-stabbing
New diets mean new pillowed bathroom stalls.
They're calling me, caressing me with their in-depth-view of beauty
Beauty... Beauty! Beauty?
No time in relevance of wisdom in your wrinkles.
No one to turn to your divine beauty.
Define beauty-
Flower shop hydrangea or a weed on a dusty road to a small town in western Red Rock
Nobody really cares if you aren't a technicolor dreamer.
Technicolor gleamer.
A save-face cleaner.
Make my dreams creamier.

Sea World

I remember

Still fresh in my mind

The memory more vivid than most

I watched 

Pain dripped from your eyes

The shame still haunts like a ghost.

I remember

You fell from the crowd

Down onto pavement out of the way

I watched 

You stood in your tears

Surrounded by people with nothing to say.

I watched

You looked up and saw me

I watched as they took you away

You watched

I looked back and saw you

You watched as I walked away

Proposal

I am your future love and promise 

I am shining behind the window clear

Pass and pause and prove and please 

Nobody takes me seriously dear

I'm getting dusty; I'm getting cleaned 

You're getting nervous I see

Picking me out and buying cut roses

This was meant to be

I am your new glowing satisfaction 

Just try to talk without a smile

Parade and perform and perfect the passion 

I was worth the dreadful mile

I'm hanging from lips; I'm dangling from lashes 

I feel new on your finger, once bare

Kiss this once and cut all other ties 

I know that we make quite the pair

I am your hollow empty promise

New fights bring a new sense of pain

Plead and persuade and pacify and press

Little ears have nothing to gain

We can't stand the stresses but don't want to be lonely 

We have nothing left to lose

Pick me back up and put me in the right position 

Let us call a lovers truce

I am your familiar loyal companion 

Holding hands never felt so good

Plan and praise and prize and polish

Years together we have stood

Rough patches in life have made us all stronger

Time has made us all the more wise

Now we are all beneath sandstone and rubble 

Too deep to hear anyone's cries

Body:\Heart\Cure

Ah yes, you must be the 1:00 appointment. We're running right on schedule. Please take a seat, and the Doctor will be with you in a moment. In the meantime, we'll need to take care of some paperwork. Please read through the forms completely, then go ahead and sign here... here... and here, on these lines.

----------{3 Minutes Later}---------- 

The Doctor is ready to see you now! It would be rude to keep him waiting. I know I told to read through the forms completely but you really don't need to. That's just formality. All we need is your signature... that's it. Right on the line there. Good! We're all set. There's really nothing to worry about. Follow me, and I'll take you to your room.  

----------{3 Minutes Late}----------

Yes, it's true that this is a risky procedure but it can be done! Have you no faith in your surgeon? I've done this before. More times than you can count. You have nothing to worry about. I'll be done before you know it, and then you'll never have to feel this way again. Isn't that exciting? I don't think you realize it yet, but what we are about to do will change your life. You'll never look at things the same way again. 

Alright, that's enough chit-chat. Let's get started, shall we? Squeeze my fist tightly, and count to three. Remember to keep breathing... okay, here we go! 

PEELING MASK......................100%

PUNCTURING SOUL...................100%

BREAKING HEART....................100%

FLUSHING FEELINGS.................100%

DRYING TEARS......................100%

ERASING MEMORY....................100%

PURGING EMOTION...................100%

PERMANENTLY DELETE PAIN?
[YES][NO]

----------{3 Minutes Later}---------- 

You open your eyes and sit up. Noticeably, you don't feel any different. Then, after a few seconds, you know things are different. You can't feel it, but you can sense it. Nothing is the same. Nothing is as it was. And how peculiar it is for you to wake up in your own bed. This is not where it started, was it? You attempt to collect your thoughts to reflect on the situation. What a pathetic thing to do. The mirror of your mind is glazed over with an impenetrable fog. There's nothing you can do. Then again, why should you care? Things are fine the way they are. Everything is fine. You can't feel it, but you can sense it. As a matter of fact, you can't feel anything at all. You seem to float across the floor. Like a ghost. A ghost of a good thing gone forever. But this is what you wanted. Isn't it? You wanted the cure.

la tentation

Who the hell am I? Take a look. Take a look. In the mirror.
I'm your old dreams. I am your illusions of grandeur.
Death kissed me and told everyone, but I'm still standing.
You try to hide me behind promotions and money. I'm still here.

What you could have been, what you should have been,
what you still could be...
It's all tattooed here across my sun-kissed skin.

Fancy lettering and swirls and dashes. These scars scare you to death.
Take me out easy. Take me out softly.
Don't let the town see my sash so red.

I have been shining through the cracks in your heart, pushing myself into your view.
Your last chance to have complete freedom is caught in the curls of my hair.

Trust me darling, a sin knows what it's talking about.

You were born together, and together you shall be forever more.

Born conjoined. Born companions. Born too early on an unlucky day.
Everything is double the ruckus and chaos. Everything is double the happy and joy.
Joined at the heartstrings, their hearts beat as one.
When one didn't know it, the other could tell it. And when one wasn't happy the other could feel it.
Together they were one, but separate the same.
Growing and fighting, growing and laughing. The same blood meant the same occasional bruise.
Small talk, quick remarks, rose gardens and shopping malls. Everything had to be same same.
Miraculous miracle surgery professional. Two quick snips changed the rules of the game.

Cut apart. Ripped companions. No physical pain was born that day.
Still a secret private connection. Nobody knows except you and me.
You are neat and clean and tidy. I am messy and messy and dirt.
You remember everyone's numbers. I remember the Science and English.
Share me your candy and I'll share you this toy. But don't share with anyone our secret alliance. They tried to take it away that day.
Together we are one, but separate the same.

Get a life. Get understanding. I'm glad that you see why I must go away.
My shadow isn't with me but this was the plan. I must see the world and let go of your hand.
I'm leaving and heaving and growing and paying and reading and wrapping and taxes.
Small talk, quick remarks, rose gardens and shopping malls. I'm facing them on my own.
I hear good occasional tidbits from you that satisfy my soul until I can see you again and I know that I can still feel that secret connection. It's fuzzy, but it's still here.

Run together. Hug too long. The lovely connection was back at full speed.
Everything is double the ruckus and chaos. Everything is double the happy and joy.
Sparks do fly when the look at each other and whispers will happen on pillows til dawn.
Together they are one, but separate the same.
One knows the world and the people inside it. One knows the home and the boredom outside.
They call each other sister and laugh cry and giggle. They call each other friend and have movie-reel thoughts.

Blow to the ribs. Slap to the face. You lied to me through identical teeth.
How could I have not have felt it. How could you have not have told.
Others saw and warned and pleaded but I stood for you and the truths I would hold.
I am really offended. I'm hurt and disgusted. The same blood means the same occasional bruise.
This new incision, this stab in the back has severed a secret that we never told.
Unless that is, you lied about that too dear sister.

Three Blocks Down

I met the love of my life today. I was walking, jaunting, skipping down the lane when this lovely polar bear asked me for directions. I froze for a moment, terrified of the quick flood of emotion he brought out of me. I had to pull myself together to assist the man. I was fluttering like I didn't know quite what I was doing. I wore a silly yellow dress that I realized was too big for my frame. I put my nervous hand into his and wish I would have stopped him as he walked away.

He was the epitome of a gentleman. He smelled like he knew exactly what he wanted in life and his piercing eyes just drew you into a frame. He was wearing a red and green plaid vest with a real working pocket watch. He had a manly sort of aura about him. He used sensible words with just the right amount of wit. He got right to the point without being gruff and shook my hand as a thank you.

I don't suppose that I'll ever see him again, but then again you hardly ever do.

Thunder Children

The show has gone on for long enough

I'm not quite sure there's more to see

So finish what you've started now

Cut! The End! No credits please.

This show has gone on for long enough

Fire scorches without flame

Thunder children roar in silence

Foaming waters call Thy name

Their show has gone on for long enough

Shadows poison lightning rays

Caustic music flakes commotion

Inhaling death alive with haze

Our show has gone on for long enough

Stinging, Queen Bee's kiss betrays

Bitter rain cleans bloody feet

A saddled horse brings no delays

The show has gone on for long enough

I'm not quite sure there's more to see

So finish what you've started now

Cut! The End! No credits please.

Dream a Little Dream

I once had a dream that I was Killing a dog.
The dream started out that I was with my friends at a party. Coincidentally I was at a party earlier that night. Then in my dream, not real life, this dog comes into the party. In real life I never saw a dog that day.

The adorable dog prances over to us with this goofy look on his face, his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging. It was weird because he was almost glowing. It was weird because the dog was almost glowing. And then somebody, I can't remember who the face is fuzzy in my memory. Somebody came and dropped a knife on the floor. The stupid dog was bumbling around and stepped on the knife. It's paw was now bloody and everybody was saying "The poor dear." All I could think, all I could hear, all I could experience was the sound that this hurt dog was making.

In real life the party was fine, nobody got hurt. It was just a normal party. In real life I never saw a dog that day.

The dog was moaning. But it was the Most Beautiful sound that I had ever heard in my life. I couldn't believe how Beautiful it was. I was stunned, I couldn't even say anything. Nobody else seemed to notice though. I was the only one that could hear it.
Well you know how dreams are. Skippy. So next thing you know, the dog is patched up and perfectly fine. No more moaning. No more Beautiful sound. It was like something had been ripped from me. I just couldn't help myself. I needed more.
So I grabbed that knife and went into the back yard with the dog. I can't believe I did this. At first I just opened the sutures on the paw of this dog. Oh that Beautiful moaning. That eloquent sound that sent my heart racing. Then I pushed the knife in a little bit more. Could the sound be more Beautiful? It was like a warm honey covering my soul. It painted Beautiful pictures in my thoughts and just made me feel good. Then I slit the poor dear on the chest. The Beautiful sound was brightening the scene, it was sending me up. I was lost in a sea of translucent opiates all because of this Beautiful sound. With each hack I went a step higher. Over everyone, everything. I was in ecstasy, I was dancing on clouds. Is it possible for a sound to become you? All I had to do was keep hacking. It was so easy. This sublime, provocative, dazzling, marvelous, exciting, lovely, Beautiful sound was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

And then it stopped. I looked down at the terrible, dark, broken scene. I had Killed this poor dear. He was no longer glowing. I Killed the dog. It's blood was all over me and I Killed it. Everybody saw, everybody cried. I was shunned. I was such a bad person. I felt so guilty. I had Killed that adorable dog. I had Killed that stupid, bumbling, adorable dog.

I woke up crying. In real life I never saw a dog that day.

Anxiety Attack

Sitting down with all of these

SOUNDS. SOUNDS. SOUNDS.

I hear them echo and reverberate, causing chaos in my brain.

Most people don't know that chaos is a liquid poison.

But I do.

I can feel it drip from my Grey matter down my gears and pulleys.

I can watch it tense and pull on my muscles and now it's gotten to the heart of the matter.

Exploding this situation out of control, out of time, and out of proportion.

My lungs are each having a seizure while my arms feel much too restless and my hair feels too loose on my head.

Terror. Terror. Terror.

I need to sit down. I can't breath right. I need water. I need a blow to the ribs. I need air. I can't focus. My throat feels tight. Who is touching me? STOP! I need to unclench my fists. I don't know what's going on.

Somebody turn the lights down. I still can't breathe. Should I die?

Allofthesethingscomecascadingdownonthepavement.

Need. To. Breathe.

I still feel my heart but at least by now my limbs are calming down.

Your comforting words are helping clear the clutter in my brain compartments.

I feel like I'm floating back down into my body, the body that I am familiar with.

I now fully feel the cuts and bruises. The usual sting.

But it's exactly where I need to be.

Through The Cracks

When did these cracks in my sidewalk begin? 

I do not know, but surely I should 

Never across these lines have I walked 

Never once have I noticed these marks

They must be new

I hate them already

Crooked cracks, why are you here? Why now? 

My path was smooth before you came along 

You have no business cutting through my trail 

And now what? What's this!?

Are you laughing at me? 

Or just yawning? 

Concrete mouths gaping wide in my sidewalk 

Are you threatening to swallow me whole?

Well, I decline the request

I refuse to fall through your lips 

You can't have me 

No, not yet 

So if you don't mind, I'll be going now

I have things to do so get out of my way 

Shut your mouth, your attempts are futile

I have to keep walking down this road  

And don't even think about nipping at my heels 

I won't fall through the cracks. 

Friendly Fire

Dear Ambidextrous Man, 

I hear you write words with both of your hands 

How does it feel? How does it feel to fight with your hands?

One scrawls your joy, while the other your pain

Together they paint a dull world of gray 

Luxurious, lovely, lustful letters 

Flirting together on fragile lines

Thick contradictions dancing around

Weaving in... and weaving out...

Potent words piercing the pages

Eloquent chains that tactfully twist

Clashing together in colloquial cacophony 

A civil war complete with friendly fire

Black... White... Black... White.... Gray

Dear Ambidextrous Man,

How does it feel to fight with your hands?

Awfully good...

Awfully good...

Awfully good?

Everything I'm Cracked Up to Be

“I can’t help but wonder if there’s some moon inside me, spinning and shifting without my consent, making here over there and over there here,and I’m afraid I’ll end up rolling out, beyond the lifeguard stand, up and over the dunes and into the parking lot, sprawling into the roads, unearthing houses and lampposts, drowning children I've knocked from their bikes. I stare at the farthest reaches of the tallest trees, jutting up like the tips of an explosion, and I imagine touching them but it feels all wrong, like fingering the corners of my heart–somewhere that shouldn't be touchable, a place that shouldn’t be reached. And wherever that is, I know that’s where I am.”

~Everything I’m Cracked Up To Be (lifted from Goodmorning&Goodnight.com)

The Roadrunners Dance

I see the words stumble, slide out of your mouth. Watch them jaunt down the kilter of your body. Dream like I see their distinct little faces look up at me. I blink. Your words have developed into something bigger. Were they so burly the time before? Something clicks in my brain and your words start digging into my chest, searching for my heart. My deep inhalation is painful as I desperately try to fight them off. But they won't stop. And you're not calling them back.

I try to take a step but you flutter to where I am and take hold of my arm. 

"How could you do something like this?" I scream with my eyes. 

And your words are still carving away at the cavity that was my chest. 

Their weapons burn with each hack.

Breath in. Breath out. This will bring you potency.

What are your words doing now? Have they stopped? 

No. But something disparate is happening. 

They have taken on their former, softer cast. 

The blows aren't hurting anymore but I can still hear them.

Thump. Thump.

I watch your words glide over the folds on my countenance and blot out my tears. 

They are neatly ironing out the scowl from my brow. 

I feel their dainty feet and hands push me up into a better posture.

Thump. Thump.

Is this the same room we were in to begin with? 

Who is that stranger, that girl at the window? 

I don't recognize her.

Thump. Thump.

Still wary, I look down at my chest to find sutures and stitches. Or is it a sweater?

Where have your words gone now?

Thump. Thump.

What is that thumping if not your words?

Thump. Thump.

Realization. I can finally feel my heart beating. 

Who knew that it would be you to bring my heart back to life?

Thank you.

Bear In There by Shel Silverstein

There's a Polar Bear

In our Frigidaire--

He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.

With his seat in the meat

And his face in the fish

And his big hairy paws

In the buttery dish,

He's nibbling the noodles,

He's munching the rice,

He's slurping the soda,

He's licking the ice.

And he lets out a roar

If you open the door.

And it gives me a scare

To know he's in there--

That Polary Bear

In our Fridgitydaire.

Forget the Dog

Some might say that I'm overly protective of my shadow. My response to these people is a polite, "SCREW YOU!" They obviously do not understand the unique connection we share. Some say that imitation is the highest form of flattery. If that's the case, then my dear shadow is extremely flattering. We've been through quite a lot. For instance, this morning my shadow was guiding my feet to history and someone down right stomped on top of him!! Poor thing. If he wasn't already flat, I imagine it would have hurt him quite a lot. But he's resilient like that. Never shows any sign of weakness (or emotion for that matter). He just kept sliding along the concrete, silently leading the way.


After history, I was excited to greet my shadow outside (don't be fooled by indoor incandescent shadows... they're just cheap imitations). Stepping out onto slender blades of grass I glanced down, but to my disrepair my shadow was gone! I looked up, then glared at the culprit. Nasty, wispy clouds of gray smothered the sky with smug satisfaction. Greedily flowing in all directions, I nearly expected to be spat on, and consider myself down right lucky that I wasn't. The way the clouds smoldered the sun gave me chills. I realized that these glutton thieves were relentless in their indulgence-- not a single shadow had been left behind. Dejected, I walked home with sulking shoulders and lonely feet.


If that story didn't shake you to the core, then you're actually a robot and not a human being. It's a widely accepted fact (so  you might as well embrace it now if you didn't know). The good news is that shadows have more lives then cats and my shadow was there to greet me the next morning on my way to work. Sure, some may say that shadows are pointless, but those people are way stupid. At a recent book signing (for my new book "The Shadow and I"), a critic approached me wanting to argue the importance of having a shadow. She smugly stated, "This book is a load of garbage! Shadows are useless byproducts of the sun and nothing more. Can my shadow hold my Italian Caffè latte when I'm petting a parrot in the park after dark? No. Can my shadow deep sea dive for buried treasure when I'm sick in bed? No. Can my shadow be my designated driver when I go clubbing with my ladies in West Philadelphia and we get in one little fight and our mom's get scared and tell us that we're moving to our Aunties and Uncle's houses in Blaire? No. Instead we have to whistle for some cabs and when they come near the license plates always say 'Fresh' and have dice in their mirrors. If anything we'd say that these cabs are rare, but no... just forget it, because who really cares?" And then, I just looked at her and said, "You're way stupid." 


I urge you to take better care of your shadows and show them a little TLC from time to time. If you'd like to learn how to nurture your shadow, pick up a copy of my book "5 Secrets to Love: A Baker's Guide to Gold-digging" for 7 easy payments of $52.31. You can purchase this book, file for bankruptcy, or learn guitar by clicking here: www.yourwaystupid.com. Thanks!

Love Making

Are you thirsty? Are you begging for a break?
Come take a sip of my water, I was always taught to share.
Some are leery with their nourishment, but I'm here for you.
Let's play doctor, I've got plenty to go around.
You can take as many sips as you want of my serum, but you cannot bathe in it.
Submerging the whole self is not permitted, but I suppose a limb would be fine.

One more? One more? Just a little bit more?


I gave you an inch, you took my soul.
My salvation is contaminated.
Nobody told me it would get poisoned.
It's killing me. And you move on to other prey.
I can't ever get it back. It was so pleasant having a full vessel of the opiate.
The pain comes too sharply now. But I see the solution.
I see you with your vessel that's brimming with medicine.

And I need a sip... Just a sip.

Dear

Why am I only just realizing this? Usually so quick to catch on to puzzles and rhymes and butterflies. This has eluded me for years. Naive, Unaware, Ignorant, and Stupid were filling up the negative space on my name cards. I thought I was so smart. I can talk about chloroplasts, democracy, different species of flowers, religion, phobias and how your eyes work. But I couldn't see this.

Melancholy hands burn tracks into your hide and lips glistening with venom steal your howls. We are only animals in the arena. I felt the spotlight on me and put on this show. This terrible, grotesque, fragile, beautiful, broken, indecent figure shines like a star for a few fuzzy minutes. But my minute is over and the demons have come for their due.

Serious mistakes are what ground me these days. These things I can't take back are calling me home. And I'm so sorry. I gave something to you that was not mine and replaced it with the mask of indifference. But Time has played his trick and the mask has faded into something resembling morose.

No more roses for this one hit wonder.
They won't bloom.