Grim

Of course Grim is beautiful,
the closest thing to perfection.
A glimmer,
balanced before the plummet,
yearning for affection.
Should the sun ever set
on the day he first saw us,
the moon will reveal
our liberation upon us
And when the sun rises,
the day will bring forth
an original generation
with Grim as their source.

And Just Like That

And just like that, I'm neutral.
Against all odds, I've pushed back the truth.
Face to face.
This is how I see.

And just like that, I'm punished.
Sent to my doom, they've taken my wings.
Carry me into the dark.
This is how I fall.

And just like that, I'm damned again.
The pain is real, I've felt it all this time.
Tell me that I'll get through this.
That this is how I begin.

And just like that, there is redemption.
Called from the pit, I see the next step.
Completion follows through movement.
This is how I fight.

Frustrated

I am the one to fall,
I fall easily and I fell for you.
When the fall is over...
you collide.
A hard hit.

This time is this time.
Respectfully, another chance.
I've been court jester.
I've been another stand.
I've been the next notch.

A hard hit.

Is this time the contrary?
Naive by curse,
I follow through.
Shame on me;
your word is golden.

But for you I've fallen.
Tried and true.
Again, I'm happy.
Again, it hurts.
Again, I'm confused.

Your word is golden.

When we talk, we talk.
Smiles and all.
When I'm alone I wonder,
if tell you I fell already...
will you ask, "Have you?"

When the fall is over
we all land somewhere.
It's a matter of impact.
It's a fact of life.
It's a matter of fact.

Will you ask, "Have you?"

Between You and Me

Writing this poem is what it's like loving you, it's all I want to do.

It's like dinner, wherever we dine, your thoughts are on my mind.

With you, there's no need for an extra pillow, with your head on mine.

With you and I, every song is good. You be the D.J., I'll drive.

A day with you is easy, I'd hold your hand forever if you'd let me.

And no matter how weird, my ketchup is free.

With mountains in the distance, our horizon has a heartbeat.

And between you and me, a towel and a pair of Converse are all we'll ever need.

Some Things

Something You.

You don't just cherish life,
you live it.
Life is you.

Something learned.

The definition of you is,
brilliant; full of light.
Synonym: intelligent

Something me.

Something me, is you.
That's life I'd die for.
That's you.

Something Brilliant.

Father's and Coffee

    It was right after reading a blog post about a book I had been anticipating for weeks, written by my favorite author Neil Gaimon, that I told myself to just stay awake. This was at six thirty in the morning, a time and decision that only a select few would choose over the call of their pillow. So, I continued, onto the previous post as I had missed that one. It was here that Neil wrote about another author that he had the briefest of relationships with through comic cons and such parties as writers have. An author whom had recently passed, one he held in high regards as an amazing man in literary and literal sense. The types of things that he wrote about, had I not already been in and out of tears this particular morning, would have caused me to cry oceans. (no pun to the coming book.)
    It was these things and his short description of their relationship that I was reminded of my fathers father whom had passed while my sister and I were in middle school. My sister; she still remembers him greatly, I on the other hand, could barely remember his face without a picture and I wouldn't have it any other way. He was a great man so any memory I have is precious. But if you could put him in a crowd I'd still be lost. There are those in our family who never even met the man and have dreams of him. I think how lucky they are and hold no resentment, I wish they could have met him; known him. And though his face may have faded from my reality the memories of laying into the rise and fall of his napping chest, in his favorite recliner, in the cool Florida air have not. And every time someone asks what time it is, before answering, I want to be able to explain how to build a watch, an option my grandfather would offer. Something I'm still not sure he could really do but will always believe to be true.
    So when Neil spoke of this man I cried. It was with heavy conscious I got out of bed and headed downstairs where I could smell coffee. As I lay down on the couch curling up with my thoughts I noticed my mother's father preparing his coffee. He saw me and smiled and I braved away my tears for the moment, but I felt it made him happy to see me up and moving. Even if it was just to change locations. My thoughts changed direction as I watch his morning routine, this man was a carpenter and a gun collector most of his life and so precision is inherent. As I continued to spy though squinted eyes I watched as he pours a little coffee, pours a little creamer, stirs and tests. And again, pours a little coffee, pours a little creamer, stirs and tests. This happened a few times and I was getting giggly as I watched. As he strove for this cups perfection I'm thinking he's just about ruined the coffee. After a stern nod to his mug he pops that coffee into the microwave. I just about laughed out loud watching this. Nuking the first cup of fresh coffee...priceless.
    But the scent still lingered and I was reminded of being young and my own father coming into my room, early and sleepy, just to let me smell the grinds before making his first pot. I thought of how my parents would take my sister and I along to church events, and of how I would try to look intelligent like Dad and make my own cup and carry it around weaving pompously through the crowd. Much like my mother's father I would add too much of everything and the coffee would be a cool mixture of sugar, creamer, sugar, coffee and more sugar. I'd still drink it for the sugar though. It wouldn't be until I had worked at a coffee shop that I learned about pairing; with the correct pastry and paired coffee no one ever should need sugar or cream. I worked a local shop that my father frequented. As an avid drinker of coffee he had years of practice, I loved watching him buy his first cup of freshly brewed mud because right after being handed this cup he'd remove the lid and take a drink, followed up by a 'thank you' and a smile. The man is a beast. I asked how he could stand the 200 degree coffee right then to which he responded, "practice" and smiled. In that moment, with his smile and the lingering smell of coffee, I can see his father's face a little better.
     I didn't know I would love coffee as much as I do as an adult, but I smelled it when I was young, got hooked and assumed it to be a characteristic passed down over generations to share the love. From the grounds of my childhood to the relationships built over cups of mud,  to the warmth in my soul it's brought, I believe coffee to be a different kind of seed to be sewn.
    So my heart goes out, I love coffee, but I love you more, Dad. Thank you.

Atop a Bridge reprise

The wind stopped me and questioned my face. Softly, perfectly; like a sweet breath in every crevice.
Enticing my intelligence.
Neutralizing my intended lean, high upon this humble bridge, the wind pushes with aggravation.

Demanding my attention, It spoke; asked of a relationship... one to die for.
My ignorance, a free pass.
Living the grey, walking on the line between the rising and setting sun. Infinite twilights. Two days in a day, twice the amount of stars.

It's a different kind of grey to live; an area of complete presence and awareness of past and future.
The naked sky and it's stormy quandaries combine revealing: life is born of night and day.
All the justification to say this is my bad life and the next one will be good. Death will be good.

My hands have been clinched for a while; dirty nails digging into my palms. When I look down at my hands, tools for creation, all I see is failure and hurt, and I'm sad at the lies I've told and the destruction they've wrought.

I take deep mental breaths and idle for a moment before temptation creeps in, then, as usual I'm back to fighting, internally, the fight I'm always fighting.

Gale force winds are blowing now and I could lay in the wind completely.
It's no new thing for me to trust this much and as much as I've been hurt you'd think I would know...nobody holds you forever.

The Gentle Beast speaks again and I want to cry.
How could one refuse to hear him.?

He speaks of grandiose places filled the sweet stench of nature, a place where the 'grey' becomes a safe haven for a life of among a million brilliant.
You could see everything, all of it.
How could one refuse to see him?

There's a sigh in the wind..., then I fall.

I plead, "If you've been there forever, why stop now?"
The only answer is wind.
The bridge, the instance of my feet touching stone, gone; no longer a foothold, it becomes a small memory.

I am diving and instantly I'm acutely aware of how I was never really alone until now.

And as the fall quickens, He speaks the word "Trust" and I know.
This fall was a leap of faith and I've become the wind. 

My life flashes before my eyes, not for fear of death, but because I'm living, moving, breathing. I finally reply, blowing, moving so swiftly now, content with what's happened.

How could one refuse him? I sigh, "I came for death, but now I'm alive."

Atop a bridge there is another...leaning into the wind.

Should the Sun Ever Set

How good is life on a dreaming path?
Such a thought to be contemplated.
Where we go; where we end up, or the whether to.
Decisions are insurmountable.
Desires, evanescent on the dusk of papercrate dreams.

And it's always at fleeting moments,
with tiny shards of refracted memories, that we reconnect.
He is not the worst thing that will  happen to us.
Inherently. Dramatically.
The blame would be impeccably placed.

Of course, Grim is beautiful.
The closest thing to perfection.

A tear born of black. 
A glimmer, balanced before the plummet;
yearning to fall sweetly into reality.

The choices we make,

the instinctive cravings.
Particularly brief; the shame...the chaos.
Surviving by nature; personal liberation.
How good is life when you're constantly dreaming.

What fear and sadness?
What path, what choices?
Should the sun ever set on the day he first saw us,
it's on the night we lived out our dreams.
Grim is beautiful

Dream with a purpose.
Die after dreams come true.

Life, dreams, a path.

Contemplated thoughts.

Go where; end up.

Whether to.

Decisions,

insurmountable.

Desires,

evanescent.

Paper-crate.

Fleeting moments;

tiny shards.

Refracting memories

reconnecting.

The worst thing.

Placed blame;

impeccably dramatic.

Inherent,

fixable.

Grim,

He’s beautiful.

Perfection.

Imperfection.

A glimmer.

The plummet.

Falling sweetly,

a tear;

born of black.

Choices.

Instinctive cravings.

Insanely brief;

the blame…

the chaos.

Surviving,

Nature.

Personal,

liberation.

Fear,

sadness.

Path and choice.

Setting suns,

first days.

Nights lived,

dreams.

Grim,

He’s beautiful.

Big Man

Dear God... if there is someone out there in the luminescent florescent bulb of my existence,


 I cried the other day, vigorously and (as the fool inside would have me write) without shame. I am a joke, at least, they seem to think so. Well, what do I tell those who say, "Don't worry about what the other people think," when 'the other people' are who I should have been looking out for, huh? What they should have said was, "Watch out for everyone, look out for no one but yourself. Oh, and don't trust anybody." But you already know this, right God? So you know when I say, "Dear God," I mean, goddamn well, "Dear God." ... Games are for pussies.


 I don't know what I'm saying now, or, anymore but I know I need some answers, and if 'the big man up stairs' ain't talking... well let's just say I'll be taking an odyssey of my own. I mean, who ever said we all just have to live the American Dream? Live and die happy, I mean, it sounds like something I should want but... I just can't. I need the struggle. I need to pursue. It's just... how I feel alive and, I guess, how I know you are too.


So, when you have time; I mean, no bother... You know. 


Just, kinda, would really like to know how to get shit back to right.


You know who

Universal Love

I don't speak 'I love you' so that when you die, I can still breath.

I don't even know you, my sweet soulmate.

There is no escape from how it goes; universal elements and all. You and I, no matter what we do. Eventually lovers, soulmates always.

If we never meet I wont know it when you die, won't know it but feel it. With my soul wrecked I'll grab my chest and question the stars, only to find there are none to answer because without you they no longer exist. I should have known.

Failed plans amass when a lover denies desire. This does not mask the pain of never knowing you or of loosing you, soulmate. Hasn't ever.

In a better world I wouldn't be too shy to tell you, "I love you."

At the release of those very words thunderheads would burst forth a symphony of colored raindrops while angels wrestle back just the right amount of puffy clouds to let golden sunshine fall right where you are and your radiance would engulf me. The rain in all its booming glory would be our favorite love song.

I'm sorry, I'm already dead if Ive lost the chance to tell you how you reek of beauty and confidence on levels others can't grasp. Or how passion would writhe within my skin at the slightest of your touches.

And that when I dream of you I can see that one glance from my eyes calms you of the same worries.

Yet in that same dream, you lean in close, a kiss, brilliant on my cheek. And then, "I do love you, feel me before we die."

It's always nice to find you're only half wrong about the universe.

Your voice beyond relieves and I know that what I feel daily is a direct tie to you, to your life.

I 'll know it if you die before we meet.

I'll know it because I'll die too.

Of Life

I keep having thoughts about this book I'm supposed to write. Am I a good writer, "yes" even i'll say that; great like the like's of Poe and other's? great in a sense that I believe my best stuff comes out when I'm fucked up. I've been struggeling with this for quite some time now. afraid to write unless i had some form of chemical substance in my system. altering how I think, and my reactions to certain situations; having now come to the conclusion that i would not have adapted to these situations as well otherwise.

I Have Fallen

It's getting more difficult to breath and lately, giving in to the urge of dying feels easier than that of living. Vague, I know, but for some reason the hold this addiction has on me won't allow spoken words about the angry facts; that I'm driven to insanity, everyday, until there's just a shell with my fading shadow at the helm of my soul. I am in pain and I'm not still young; I look it and act it, but it hurts. It's been a long time since I've changed who I am but this is the first time it's scary. My imagination and intellect used to astound and now, my mind... it's pale with trivia and popularity. I have succumbed to my faults, no better then they.

Every now and again I still see Him through fogged glass and sloppy flecks of tiny droplets splashed onto my window during a heavy rain. Each pearl of water, a memory, living out it's purpose. Tumbling down the window, burning the reason of His importance on the sill of my mind once again. And I wonder what he's thinking. Then, to myself, I say, "It'll never change or get better unless I force it. When did I become so afraid and weak? I just don't want this to be the end of my life."

Break and Release

Have you ever met someone who could change your entire being? It's not fair sometimes the way things work out but you go with it. When you want something so bad you'd completely rearrange the way you think and become someone so completely different, is it fair, to the person you are at that exact moment, the person you have been, to make that decision? Are we all limits or limitless.

Someone once told me that I should take care of myself more; be better to my psyche. I come out at night because this is when I can most feel my desire for the light. A direct line to the past and future lies within the trail of stars overhead. A pathway to thousands of lives. My life has been destroyed by the one living in this body. Time is dwindleling ever faster now and hope is ethereal freedom.

Within the events of my heart dates have been removed, lifetimes changed. A part of me has disappeared, once forgotten, remembered for you, now forgotten once again.

There is a tree, a cherry blossom, from which my heart hung. Picked; pink and solitary. Even away from the branch; at your touch, your taste, life was sustained. Upon your release; the thought of you wasn't enough. Decay, not ideal enough for how this heart feels. Without passion this heart ceases to exist.

As many times as you were right; this hurts the most to acknowledge... that you are serious to speak, "never together," My heart is broken and beside it leaks my soul. Pretty, red and ending. But I am strong... the one thing you were wrong about. Now, the only thing I have to live for are those once misspoken words. 

I will move on, survive... love again. 

Dreams from a simple heart

lightly crying, letting it all out. he sits there blankly in mind. the idea that he would give up to be with me. trust me this hurts more than you think. The simple mind could find no fault in the man with a great heart. To walk away would be keen in the absence of love. To surrender and live; dreams from a simple heart. The tears are drying now, cheeks rosy, lips... moist. With the flick of his tongue the salty residue is brought into his being. How could something as sweet as a tear cause more harm on a wound? Along with memorable kisses and divine speech,  swords of effort and courage given once to you now slice through the bars at chained emotion.

vulnerable

When exactly was I supposed to know? They say, "When the earth trembles," or,  "You feel it in your bones." When a rainbow cries how do you stop it from ripping the fabric of reality? Each tear, a wave of pain, crashing against the backside of the moon, pulling us closer. A sign to continue. A threat that this could be the last time for help. Thick billows of silvery grey smoke escape from my ears, releasing pressure; allowing communication. Technically, I'm fine. But from another angle issues run around poking closely at the scars from yesterday.

At the heart of this body exists a room with a thousand doors; there is only one for you right now. The rest are battling back tides from oceans of emotions. The doors holding them are degenerate and failing. I have only enough strength to hold them back for the one who will one day open them all,  release the pounding evidence and hold me close as we take on the fight together.

In the middle of disaster, there is one thing that grows. A single seed that survives, branching out and rooting in every memory, past or present. It invades confusion and breathes grace into it's lungs. It, is Love. Trust it. Unconditionally. Be willing to take the risk.

this is me... vulnerable

I already can't stand being away from you and the thought of loosing you to someone else or a mistake i've made weighs heavily on my conscious. I hate who I am when you are not around, the lack of characteristics upon my shoulders humiliates me. when you are gone I am more than alone. since I've met you, when i am alone, it's constant heartache. When you asked if i would marry you I meant it when I said yes even though we had only been on three dates. When I tell you I love you it comes from the one place I can't fully access unless you are there. I do feel safe when I'm with you. to give up addiction for your love is a fight I willingly gear up for.
I see you and nothing else matters. I want to be the best for you but I'm afraid im not. good enough. I feel like i could never understand why you love me. tonight i went out with you with the thought in my head that you were going to ask me to marry you. I would have and still will quit my job and leave my life to be with you. does that make me vulnerable, am I stupid to have the thoughts? Is that what true love is. desiring to be with the one you love, always? but I'm not going to. won't give into the lies that I can't find love with a man. because if i could, I have. so when I left the official third date  I was lost. heartbroken. I want to say that I knew you weren't going to ask me. and good. because I know now that you weren't ready to. me either. but the pain i felt when I went home without you. perfection in emotion. I guess I really did want you to ask me. more than I knew myself.
Sacrifice is next on my list. I need to feel the life I have snuffed out burn warmer now. I will not loose you to a mistake or a lie.

When we kiss, your lips glide across mine like a finely tuned dance. I love it when you pull me in closer. I get so nervous when you touch me still. your hands are firm and gracious as the hold me. your kisses to my forehead drive me wild.

so how am i the only one that has stuff to work on? just because i opened up to you about my life and issues means that you get to keep your shit private?

did you know, like I did, the first time we really met face to face. Boy you were cute. I couldn't even think. goofy and real. humbly sweet; a man with a child's heart. When people say they've found their other half... it makes so much sense now.

did you know like I did, when i saw your face for real the first time w actually met. I get scared knowing that you really want me the way you do. already comfortable, this relationship had gone from good to great. A constant state of aroused awareness. you are my other half. And around you I feel whole. It's a story or fairytale that's been told, heard and passed down for generations. Love. 

It's a long drive and the wait, unbearable. I love you has already been spoken and now we fight to see if it last. But that first impression, to live or die for love. The best impression. Serious looks and fumbling hands. Something has kept us from meeting before now... fate. I never believed it either; never though I could be 'The One' for another. By the end of lunch I want nothing more than to be wrapped in your arms,  movie in the background, asleep on your chest. You said that night you could feel my heartbeat. I say right now that I will always feel yours.

Parts of me are confused. I shouldn't be saying these things yet. Maybe I am vulnerable. But... I love him. there is no one else but him.  No one, but there is a bane, it's me. My addictions are guarded for now. Friends say to tell him, I say if it works then the changes I will make for him are welcomed. I don't want him to hurt.
I'm going to keep this cup we got on our first date together, maybe it won't work out but god I hope it does.