It's Not There

It’s the moment you’re forced to glove up. Inducing a sternum rub while staring into the eyes that appear no longer have the ability to stare back into yours. Compressions are followed by breathes, although the body does not want to hold onto them. It’s only when you realize that you’re the one lying there on the ground that you can once again become coherent.

Beyond Our Sight

here i sit alone all day. unable to breathe, all i do is stare. the white walls keep their distance as i have never been able to lean upon them. bits and pieces of voice filter in but i see no faces nor does it bring a smile about me. time has left with the ticking of its clock, its hands to carry something much more real. beyond my now claimed white walls, i see no more and never wanted to. when upon the sounds of tears i hear, an exit sign fades in and looms above a now visible crack in a wall. growing larger, it crumbles. standing up like i haven't in so long, i begin to make progress toward it. pausing and looking back, the room seems whiter now. i close my eyes for the last time and take my final step. the sensation of darkness surrounds me and numbs my body and brings about a silence to the pain.

The Only One

i aimed to leap upon my bed in hours of absent sun. i leaped but did not land, a splash arose and all around melted. falling through my once bed, i became entangled within the flurry or current. being teased by the minuscule portions of air that soar out of reach. involuntary breath holding follows me to the floor where a bed of sand awaits my weary head.

Moments That Follow

it's when the hands reach up in attempt to grasp onto just a piece.

something for them to hold onto.

only a piece, that happens to be almost out of attainment.

a touch of finger upon its cold metallic flesh. just out of reach, just of air.

Tempered Taste on the Tongue

road set out before us

stretched forth and wandering

darkened shadows melt

as illumination carries us by

lifeless leaves scattered

lying motionless

locked away within frost

blurring the lines that guide

melody intertwines among rhythm

gently lulling our minds

distorting time

thoughts become lost and faded

while waning crescent

smiles upon our journey

Advised Not To

“Why do you always have a baseball bat with you?”

“What happens when I need to hit that homerun to win the game, and I’m up to the plate and I don’t have a bat? What then?”

“What makes you think you’re on deck?”

“Hmm…fair point. I believe you have found a flaw in my logics. A cog seems to be missing. I’ll have to look for it. Are those M&Ms in your pocket, because if they are I would like to taste the rainbow.”

“That’s the slogan for Skittles, not M&Ms.”

“Ok well let me have some Skittles then, I only hope that they won’t melt in my hand just my mouth.”

“That’s the…*sigh* whatever, sure you ca…”

“This is my stop, I have to get off here otherwise I have to come all the way back up town to get to work, because that’s where it’s located. I advise you to do the same.”

“Jack… we’re going to the same place…and we want the next stop, not this one.”

“Sir you’re beginning to ruffle my feathers and I don’t appreciate that. Now if you excuse me I’m going to be late for work.”

“…yep alright. See you at home Jack.

“Goodbye Phyllis.”

“I’ll tell you one more time, just incase you haven’t heard me the million other times, it’s Greg.”

“I…I can’t hear you... I…must be going. No change, no change, sorry, it’s going to be alright. LOS CABOS!!”

“Jack that doesn’t…mean goodbye…”

Drop Your Head To Avoid Eye Contact

"fair point," said Greg the robber.

"although the pond yet lies stagnant," proclaimed Colby as he noticed that Greg began to stare at the sky while saying "i blame it on the moon with such a luminous glow, she confuses what to be day and what night."

"She cannot always hold the sway of the water, as she does hide herself to mirror the pendulum's swing," defending the one who cannot speak.

"they mustn't be allowed the pleasure of loosening their tongue from teeth," Greg protested in alarm to that of Colby's defense.

"all cannot be controlled my friend," Colby uttered throwing his words to the wind while moving toward Greg, "let us go home before we shame another that cannot raise a hand in anger."

Only When You Close Your Eyes

leaving you entangled within its wake it doesn't look back for that is not in its nature. saturated eyes hidden under red hue of swollen mess. lungs without a hold on the air they so long for, you gasp in search of more but find nothing in a state of panic. body trembles in a state of disbelief as a fear lingers above that it might once again show its grueling face. images in motion with voices to match make up the thoughts that force their way before your eyes. once place to rest your heavy head now has become a tomb to the tears that you've shed, dampening the fabric for more than just the state of evaporation. the lights have long gone and the room looks solely at you, amplifying the reason of needing contact with another.

They Paint Their Eyes Into Dreams

her pale skin and coarse hair

forces moments to pass by in pieces

stone melts before the caressing touch of rain

while leaves are conquered by the fluttering of gravity

striation upon silken skin maps her thinking at will

easy spoken doors open into a drunken state

leaving the stiff face of time to shutter

courteous clouds grace the unwanting face of moon

Catalyst for Transcending

Without essential items, nothing can or could be. A thought cannot become reality, silica cannot become a window, and a seed cannot flourish into a plant. This seed, under the correct conditions, has the ability to remain in a suspended state for years, possibly decades if it’s not allowed to reap the benefits of the earth and its abundance of variant life sustaining matters. Without the presence of these essential items the seed remains nothing but a seed. It cannot grow; it has not the possibility of harvesting sunlight for the creation of its food. It shall never be forced to fight through hard times of the dry season’s drought. It has no chance, no opportunity to say “goodbye” to something that was not there to begin with.

One seed may germinate into something beautiful but it takes a handful of seeds to create a flowing cohesive junction. A singular tree has the ability to bring positive attention to home’s curb appeal, but it takes an entire forest to ensure the wealth of this planet. Something as simple as a seed has the potential, if given the chance, to give and create wealth in such harmony; priceless for the outcomes may be never ending.

This image of a lonely seed begins to bloom into a whole new picture. An image, a story, a piece of art that takes on a new meaning before the viewer’s eyes as if shown in a different spectrum of light, yet remains physically unaltered. It starts with a shift in direction, a change in point of view. Unearthed within its hues, its dynamic, its whole composition is a story, a journey of what can, of what could, of what has not yet come to pass. With time a whole, finished picture may come into view.

The Sound of Someone Walking

“You should not say never for it takes away the characteristics of the house at hand,” said the Hatter to the Hare as the matter of the issue was overlooked.

I take music in pill form and swallow it dry. It leaves the most peculiar taste as it rolls down my throat. After the music hits me I drown the outside noises with a perspiring glass of emotional writing. It soothes the scratching the pill left and calms the war mongering cells within. Yet this combination leads to fly bys in radio controlled balloons. So ill listen to your brother Jake as I fall to my pillow remembering the days that I have been told came to pass. “Are you well?” She asked as she gazed into his catatonic eyes with a smirk on her face and a forced tear running down her nose. “...I’m fine...,” he claimed as he closed his eyes, “...I’m just anticipating the sight of you leaving,” and fell asleep.

“Fear not my dear for I am fine, and safe at that. I sit among a table of angles,” he said while the small child at his feet began to weep.

Air Filled Bottles

peering out the window will not be as it was the day before. each gaze becomes anew. a different thought. a varying memory. a new memory. a different time. under different circumstances. different reason. a different you. me. he. she. them. they. a whole new experience. the only variant that has but to change is the window itself. an object that allows and creates such variance, yet it itself has none.

Archaic

i lie sleepless in my bed. at a time when sleep should have come hours ago. my mind circling around a single thought, a single person that i wish to remember.

with slight hesitating i get up and re-awaken my computer from its own slumber. as if jealous that i cannot sleep so easily. i sit as it wipes the crust out of its eyes and i think.

motionless as a thought process begins to unravel. can i bring myself to accomplish what it is i set out to do; write about a missed one, someone who i wish to see once more? spiraling, twisting, turning, falling.

there it is. the answer. awaiting me. and i can breathe yet again. i don't miss him anymore.

Choking on Thrown Stones

I lay awake at night

pondering aimlessly in my bed

as I allow the music fill my ears

and await for a nightly visitation

from the man who keeps the sand

time passes and I lay awake

holding restless aches within

venturing as to where I may find

a glass of water to soothe my mind

returning to my scene of slumber

upon my bed an imp sits in wait

staring through me before upon me

it smirks and nods as to giving a gesture

one that shall suggest my bed lay empty

as to follow its benign nature

it preforms in an act of vanishment

the hour upon this night in which I wake

seems to have become too late

closing of eyes to ponder once more

for the coming of nightly tomorrow

it may lay in wait yet again

grief stricken

Tapping upon translucent glass as if none had seen it. Vibrations disturb the hands that hold so much responsibility yet cannot hold anything at all. Moments flickering, stopping, starting, then jumping to as where they do not belong, creating a sensation of dismay.

Tapping on the glass and moments pause, skip ahead and become lost, rewriting history as if never to have happened upon Earthly ground. Shattered thoughts, robbed from those who once dreamed of such delights.

Tapping on the glass and the memories fade, become lost and never to have happened.

Least They Know

cover your mouth
less the evils crawl out
twist and turn
to mold into what
cannot be seen
under the power of control

Speak of Black

i stand upon the top
it over looks all
and all i wish to see
one step to make me
take it and i could have all
that is there that lies before me
yet i dont know which way it is
one step to break me
take it and it all comes crashing down
nothing or no one to save me

Five O' Clock Shadow Before the Dawn

you hold a gun in your hand

but can you see what I hold in mine

that tongue of yours never seems to sleep

as mine is always looked upon

for an answer that cannot be heard

for I am nothing like you nor will I be

you may choose to turn your head

or close your eyes in this changing time

but mine are open and hand stretched forth

for we both know things will change

regardless of how ignorant

you may choose to be

ignorance may be bliss

but your bliss is just a defence

for what is and has come to be

like all defences this one too

will begin to crack and come to pass

Nothing But Lines

rain drops filled with a single memory

each falling of rain like the telling of a story

here within a time and a place

each rain storm is transformed into

the telling of a thousand lives and beyond

wind does blow an the words are shaken

they fall one after another

coming together altering rainfall

into an endless story

puddles grow and time does fade

the rains are gone and the words have stopped

reflecting emotions grow louder as the

air is filled with an abundance of an earthly silence

once rested grey skies now begin

to transition into a speckled black

a nightly abyss holds its own secrets

flickering, twinkling, telling;

this endless endeavor too has something to say

As the Streets Become Filled with Water

you, they, he, I and she

wander between the seemingly endless maze

that has become to make up the outer defences

broken they must be and the empire will tremble

begin to fall as their defences begin to suffer

burnt and red the walls change under kiss of sun

satisfied with only but to succeed we leave

not to turn a head in the destruction behind

your, their, his, mine, and her

lives continue for a walk upon two feet