you hang like laundry
above my head
waiting
for days
to dry
so i can fold you
and put you away
and never wear again

Unified in the future
but scattered now
and the things that left me alive
now only make things worse
so i'll sweep them away
like scraps of paper
from a homemade snowflake
that has melted
into summer

pure

It's ridiculous
how a hypocrite
can come off
as a poet
as an author
who knows everything
who is on a pedestal
a pedestal that will never fall
until it does
and amazement is disbelief
at the downfall of a symbol
a symbol of "all-knowing"
of the pure one,
But pure?
PURE
its not there now
was it ever there
you show no compassion
no sympathy
and you move on in a blinded fury
to something that will only kill who you once were
or
never were

Beauty

Beauty is..
THE NATURE OF GLASS
and-
how long will he live?
A heartbeat?
He's a superhero
in THE PAST
when he was not dead
not even wounded
with strong lungs
and the wrath
of a LIONESS.

Awareness,
So as not to fall back into a place
You’ve already been

A rib cage
Torn open
To let someone in

The unknown of a fog future
And separate/
Together lives

Youth in your eyes
Lending hope to your hands
And past to your voice

Self induced forgetfulness
That never makes sense
Or works for that matter

The familiar music
That made you cry,
And which
You probably don’t remember

The beauty that lies
In truth
And the lies that
Make truth beautiful

Yourself, your eyes
Your thoughts, your ideas
Your sins, your heart

Swiveling necks
In opposite
Directions

A forged friendship
Melted together
In the heat of tension

Waiting to hear what they have to say
A calling
To come back
To just never have left
In the first place
An indication of a mistake
The glint in the eye
Of a return

The beauty that lies in truth
and the lies that make truth beautiful

We can only try
to forget
and learn new words
and equations
to fill our assignments
and now
the world stays open
for something new,
new to me

chords pile high
ontop of one another
and if one falls
the whole song comes crashing down
like a bombed city

hospitol

hold hands over beds
where sheets are white

colors are absent
and antiseptics fill our lungs
so we cleanse our every breath

silver walls
reflect yourself
again, again

white faced and cold

We don't know what your thinking about anymore
We don't see what your talking about anymore
anymore isnt what I want to be

ghostshirts we wear
on our chests and around our heads
to keep the sun from our eyes
and the sweat from burning

She's there/sometimes
when the time goes back
and I'm not where I am now
not in a place so comfortable
and so suddenly perfect

like 7th grade
when all i needed
was something so simple
so easy

and now im moving back
to those tv screens

but my heart is still with you

Wind blows massive
and frequencies
strings
strike
your face
and your ears, and your throat and your stomach

the bow carries on
along the landscape of vibration
and builds up
pyrimids in treble
and stonehenge in bass

Truth

Truth is...
an untamed horse
a caged in bear
hungry and thirsty
and needing
freedom
the flow of lives
being led
without a leash
the folders of yesterdays
and calenders for tomorrow
truth will growl
and kick
and scratch
and maul
but when it speaks
it says only guilt
and only guilt is heard.