An Advent of Sense

Every mile that builds up long between us hard to tell if its progress or fade. One week I'd give my whole life to you, the next I'm in half retrograde. I'm too young for planning the future, yet I'm too wise to be in the now. Piece puzzles of morals and complex ideals sit uncomfortable friends in their rows. The heart and the brain are the same in my form, both being impervious fools. They forget their union and joust in a game; enemies disregarding the rules. What then, would you ask, is solution to this script of trite angsty complaint? Feel nothing at all, choose risk it all, or just show some goddamn restraint.

I feel spring coming in on a new breeze, I want that newness all over me. Wishing well, toss a coin and wish myself free, Leave this town and take all my colors with me. So break your limb, break it 'cross my back Try to break me down, but I'll be coming back.  Break your limbs, but remember that new breeze. Like the greens of spring, I'm 1,000 shades free Like the greens of the spring, I'm changing.

I can do grown up all by myself. Midnight pasta, midday Netflix. Maybe shave my legs I'm a big girl now. Go for a check-up, check my balance, Just tried Hot Yoga... self-help guru. Browse the farmer's market, burn the rice, smoke out my kitchenette. Hoards of fruit flies trash can hovering... Hate those motherfuckers. Phone tings, someone calling? ...Mom comments on Facebook. Daily grind, office shift, coffee run. Children starving in Africa and I'm faxing contracts. Have a drink, go to a gathering Pretend to laugh it off...no one has a sense of humor. Buy a gym membership--thanks Groupon. Buy a G--thanks co-worker. Smoke hanging out my apartment window... Eat until logic replaces boredom. Wanna go to trivia tonight? ...came in second! ...to last. Ha. Bye, see you at work. Go upstairs, sit on couch, A/C blows, TV clicks on. Write a poem. Feel better? Yeah, sort of. Call mom back. Love you too.

Kissing is like communicating. When you first begin conversing with someone, they are practically a stranger. The first several interactions are often laced with polite assertions and mild insecurity, perhaps even awkwardness. But past a certain point with this new friend, correspondence begins to grow fonder and more familiar--they begin to adjust to one another's specific love language--their way of communicating their emotions. The unsuredness and consequent excitement that occurs at the beginning of these conversations that lasts for the entirety of a relationship grows into something different but no less positive. It becomes comforting and pleasurable to "communicate" with this person. It becomes a reminder that they are supported, loved, and thoroughly enjoyed. Exchanging a kiss, whether it be a sweet smooch or a prolonged passionate pucker, there is a message sent and received. I love you, I need you in mu life, and I respect you. Of course, this is particular to...

Earth Children crawl the street Like caterpillars in summer heat. Chanting worship in an unknown tongue Like they've forgotten the drummer's beat. Pipes sing smoke in a gypsy's tune Earth Children, come commune. Take this holy sacrament Your redeemer will be here soon. Summer 2014

I know that we have a problem. It's been swirling around and within us for what seems like ages. I, being the communicative one, always bring it up. We used to be fire! Consuming our bodies. And I still feel that way. Then why, every morning, when I move to touch you, do you turn so coldly away? I'm so overwhelmed with these feelings, I've shared them so often with you, and yet things have not been healed. I'm at a loss for what to do. Improvement has happened, indeed, but it's so painful having to wait for the person you want to want you again. I've read all the articles, reasoned out all of the possibilities, but no conclusions can be drawn. I love you with such a vigor and such a conviction, and I know you feel the same way. This is all about you. What can't you find in your soul, body, and memory that prevents you from being with me? I want to help but I've tried I am beyond it, I suppose. That is so hard to admit. We need...

I don't want somebody else. I don't want to drastically change who I am. I'm not unhappy with my life, I just want to be excited! Vibrating with the pleasure of being alive. It's hard to remember feeling that way, sitting on this train, going to work somewhere that is ripe with the possibility of that feeling... I guess I'm just bored and uncreative! We get in these continuous ruts where all we do is sit around, watch TV, eat, complain about boredom, drink, and stay up too late. I hope that's just a common summer syndrome.

No one's ever up when I'm awake. I swear the small hours are like daggers etching rivers of blood in my skin Leaving dark pools under my eyes to reflect my haunting. It's really not that bad It's just that the solitude of a dark room brings tears to my eyes quicker than a flesh wound Dampening the sheets that would keep me covered and safe. There are certainly other people in this house But to go to them and lay with them seems futile now Their dreams would bounce in their heads, thrashing, while I laid still, wondering. And I know that there are people who love me It's just so hard to remember when you are the only one alive at the moment With no one's eyes or smiles to create a life force for you to cling to joy. And I'm not really sad, or have no reason to be The weight of sleep and the burden of an overzealous mind pull my eyelids shut But bids me think until my brain no longer works and I die I mean fall asleep.