this is

this is slow motion
this is ecstasy
this is believing
this is truth
this is amazing
this is real
this is beauty
this is reality
this is fate
this is life
this is right
this is crazy
this is being
this is sharp
this is just
this is cute
this is awesome
this is it
this is beginning
this is end
this is all
this is intuition
this is how
this is why
this is mountains
this is rain
this is wind
this is trees
this is cheese
this is you
this is me
this is us

this is love.

sotto la stessa luna

and if the sun had come up just fifteen minutes early, they would have missed it.
but as it rose, there they stood, rising with it, so to speak.
their chests sighing almost in unison and their eyes on the horizon.
as they felt the first rays of a new day's sun fall across their faces,
they turned towards each other and felt a warmth no dawn could replicate.
a heat, a fire, a passionate dawn of their own.

and they stood.
and looked.
and were as the sun was.

new.

crazy

it's crazy how it's not that hard
it's crazy how it's not that far
to walk across a country just to fall into your arms
it's crazy that it happened like this
it's crazy how everything is irrelevant
except the words on your lips
but is it that crazy to wanna give you the moon
and would it be crazy if i wanted until june
and is it that crazy that i would wait ten years and not a minute too soon
but if it really came down to whether you're happy or not
or whether or not you had to break out of your comfort spot
it's really not that crazy when you really look at what we got
and can have.

in homage or mockery

clawing at the seams of everything you deemed as perfect
discrediting the scene you loved for what was on the surface
you have to ask yourself honestly, was it really worth it,
to have all you ever wanted just to throw it to the servants?
so how am i to understand exactly what went wrong here,
when vox of old depress the cold and write a whole new song, dear
to sing, if not in homage then in mock of what once was
a killing moon may kill at noon, but dares not kill my buzz
i guarantee that in the trees lie secrets of the wind
the falling leaves may once have breathed, but will not breathe again
if changing tides in time decide the strength with which it blows,
then to change directions you need only change what you now know

shadow self

life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
and then is heard no more: it is a tale
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing.

enter a messenger

thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.

- macbeth, act v, scene v

thinking without blinking

i think it's time for a change. my job, my friends, my life, all are becoming monotonous and without reward. i mean, my friends are amazing, but i don't think i'm in a position to utilize the friendship they offer. i need to be friends with myself before i can reciprocate how amazing my friends are to me.

there's a part of me that really likes what i've become, given my past and everything i've overcome to get to this point. then there's another part, a seemingly greater part, that hates the chances i've been given and my failure to take full advantage of them. i should be somewhere else, somewhere better, somewhere less...cluttered. i can't help but feel i'll disappoint, if not my family and friends that've stood by me through everything, then myself. and i can't decide which would be worse.

so i'm going to be looking hard for that something. something more. something else. i'm not going to abandon what i have or give up on where i'm going, but my first change to change directions (as long as it's not backwards), i'm going to take it.

believe that.

01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101

"with love in so many places, it's hard not to stand in the corner, your eyes giving away your position, glowing in the low lit center of my universe..."
he hesitates.
"if you realize love, it will be your reality. i've fully realized it."
he pauses, eyes fixed on the floor. he waits for her sigh then continues, still content on averting his stare.
"i've realized the love i'm capable of and that, as of yet, have yet to love more than i do now."
he practiced this speech over and over, for weeks he perfected it, but it wasn't until he started talking did it actually take shape. he didn't remember these words, in this order or at all. in fact, he knew this was what he truly believed because this was nothing like what he prepared.
he looks up and she's staring at the floor, possibly the same square inch he'd been seemingly fascinated with for the past however long. then, after a collective breath, she looks up and he says,
"now you realize why this can't work."
she did. she didn't understand, but she realized something. something that made it okay to nod at that moment and figure the rest out later. and she would.
sooner or later, she would.

three dates

I.
he clutched his bag and ran ahead of them. he wasn't scared, oh no. he knew better than to be scared of a bunch of big bullies who only made fun of him because he had better hair and a better head under it - his mother was very wise - no, he ran to catch up -
to her.
she heard his footsteps racing toward her and turned to see, not big bad bullies - her mother was wise, too - but that boy from english with the weird smile and the piercing eyes. he stared at her a lot, but not in a creepy way, no. in a nice way. he appreciated her and she liked that. so she slowed to assist in his effort to walk beside her.
and he did.
they walked beside each other until she split off down her street, him continuing down his. and it was then they realized they were holding hands. they let go, almost as if embarrassed - or excited - or whatever it was, they looked at each other, shy and apologetic for letting such a thing happen. but they knew.
they knew.

II.
may i?
she asked, reaching for the glass which was sweating in the sun. she grabbed it without waiting for a response and drank the remaining liquid. they weren't on the porch for five minutes when he asked,
is it really that big of a deal if someone has a weak handshake on first meeting them?
for a girl it is,
she answered. she tilted the glass upwards and let an ice cube fall into her mouth. she elaborated between crunches.
see, if a guy meets a girl and has a weak handshake, he's lame in bed.
okay, he interjected.
i'm not done. but if his shake is weak, but he pulls in for a one-armed hug, he's a sleaze. some women like that, i dunno.
he nodded. she continued.
but if it's weak and flirty, like rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb, or letting his hand slip out slowly as he pulls away, then,
she breathed heavily before continuing,
i wouldn't give that man a day.
a day before what? he asked, but her mind was elsewhere. maybe on the events of yesterday. maybe on a cloud that reminds her slightly of alan arkin, but with more defined cheek bones. maybe on the fact that it was early yet and they had yet to do anything they had planned for the day, but still had plenty of time.
but maybe her mind was on then. when everything just was and this was that and nothing changed, but no one cared because everything was perfect. yes, that's where she was, though still sitting on his porch. she was there. and he was not.

III.
they were sitting at a table waitressed by a persian woman with a big cheesy smile and an awkward walk. she limped a little and they watched whenever she walked away after taking their order or bringing their food or making sure they were satisfied with their meal. they watched to see if she fell, silently making bets with each other, but both betting she would.
nothing really seemed too important as they chit-chatted and laughed and sat nonchalantly staring at the other couples, but casually glancing back to see if the other is staring at them.
she liked him. really. the kind of like that made her stomach tingle and her thighs ache and her head spin and heart scream I WANT YOU! but she was playing it cool. she had to.
her friends said - as she was leaving to meet him tonight, mind you - that she was letting too much out and not getting enough in. they emphasized 'in' so their innuendo was made clear. clearer than necessary really. she knew, but at this point, she didn't care.
he looked happy, she thought. no, not happy. content. content being with her, sitting across the table, not speaking or speaking or whatever, just being.
and so there, in the candle light, she saw the man she would sleep with, not just tonight, but for the rest of her life. it'd been a year and she was certain he was the one. and even if he wasn't, she'd always remember him how he was at that moment. and that would make it alright.

who am i?

who am i to decide your life?
who am i to indulge your pride?
who am i to invite the tide
to drown the condescending night?

who am i but a misread line.
who am i but a man by design.
who am i but a "keep me in mind,"
a celebrated metaphor for "please, take your time."

who am i to invest in your fate?
who am i to determine the stakes?
who am i to contribute to the waste
as an apathetic hero who arrived too late?

so who are you to give up on your dreams?
who are you to wake me up with your screams?
who are you to give two seconds to think
about anybody else but yourself and your team?

learning clowns to frown

i get bent to level out
embodiment of a rebel shout
talking shit to wake the dead
fed by a left hook, aching head
make time for no man
tell us what you told them
when confronted by the mob
an alibi blamed on a head nod
grab this sucker by the nape
set him straight, innovate
a new family outing
gauge the success by his shouting
i make fake bets with myself
to fool my bookie
never been one to forsake
the snake for nookie
my city fights for broken lives
'til everyone in the shire dies
'til every saint and sinner denies
the misread tarot card must lie
take the knife out of my back
and whittle down the interface
take the sticks out of the asses
of the nay sayers, call 'em splinter face
race to the finish
final lap with both my ankles braced
strapped, dripping sap
legs bent and wrapped in wedding lace
i accidentally made face
and set the pace
for all these clowns to drown
maybe now they'll learn to frown

everything and more

i am my own escape from my own mind
taking my own sweet time
to calculate the day in a straight line
straightening crooked spines
and spooked minds like yours and mine alike

i'm just a metaphor for my state of mind
leaving my soul behind, i climb
up the steps to your door,
like i've been here before
and knock with the rhythm of a clock
the same tick tock mocking, begging me to stop,
but i've never been one to listen
to reason or rhyming lines
i find solidarity in nothing but the passing of time
as i stand knocking, rapping knuckles
til i buckle under the weight
from the pressure to wait for an escape
it seems i made my exit too late...

or were it early, there's nothing for me
but the prospect of being
something greater i'm not seeing
so i wait at your door
with nothing more than before
except the promise of everything
and more

ignorance in a kiss

how can i ignore the fact
that everyone but me has sat
exactly where you're sitting now
a queen without a king or crown

from your thrown your past
is clearly out of reach
and on your own your last
night in town will be, at the very least,

a reason to forgive yourself
for every thing you've read
and made believe a better future
awaits you in your head

but when you decide to come back down
from your castle in the air,
just think of when you were happiest
and work backwards from there

questioning a backwards glance

if the question is "why?"
then the answer is:
i needed a reason to need a reason.
if the question is "where?"
the answer is:
the edge of the world.
"when?"
noon-ish.
the question: "how?"
the answer: whithout any effort at all.
and if the question is "who?"
and the answer isn't obviously "us,"
well then we a lot more questions to ask
and a lot more answers to find.

but to answer the original question:
yes.

waking up and realizing it’s still a dream

so you woke up from your dream?
what's that supposed to mean to me?
so i was a fling
in your most recent mem'ries.

and when you came up to me
and asked me "how can you sleep?
without me next to you?"
i responded: "i haven't slept in weeks."

so when will you truly wake up
and see enough is enough?
when you see all that i've become
that's when we'll finally figure
out.

i will become the one that overcomes

i will see it through
the doors to this place
have been sealed
and the wounds on my face
have all but healed,
but i will see this through

i will not be scene,
this seen is nothing new
i have been, but will not again,
the picture you painted
will not hold up to
the time it took to paint it

i wish i was down for you
to give up on me,
but in the truest form
our shadows torn
made giants by the setting sun
dancing in the halls,
these walls have much to learn

i will see through you,
will not be you,
but rather see you through
this.

aux champs-élysées

"i trotted on the avenue my heart opened to the unknowns
i wanted to say hello to no matter whom
no matter whom, it could be you, i'd said anything to you
it was enough to speak to you, just to calm down

you said to me 'i was pinned in a basement with fools
who live guitar-in-hand from dusk till dawn'
then i accompanied you, one sang, one danced
any one who did not even think of embracing oneself

yesterday evening two unknowns and this morning on the avenue
two in love all dazed by the long night
and to the star of concord, form an orchestra with thousand chords
all the birds at day-break singing for the love"

when subtle letters spell

make life faster
love haphazardly
find beauty from disaster;
a makeshift romantic

frantically listen
with untamed ears,
untrained tears fall
before unnamed fears

here in any weather
down for whatever
the clever never settle
when subtle letters spell

the bold type
might not look right
in the wake of last night
but look closer and you might

see more clearly
when the sun dawns
earlier than expected;
a new day undetected

in it

in a lover's trance
embraced
defaced but for the uncertain
certainty of adoration
for another
by another
of another
kind
of being adored
so i abhor being
or rather
abhor being abhorred
for being adored
in this trance
happenstance has no
happy stance with me
take lightly
this make believe
and make believe we
are one
of a kind
to bind and display
the array of subtleties
displayed before your
royalty
and know that
i - no, we -
are in it
to win it

a face in a cloud, no trace in the crowd

"but where a young man will forgive the stray, an old man will cut it out. youth always tries to fill the void, an old man learns to live with it."

my void is inspiration, or the lack thereof. fingering the pages, i find a voice of absolution screaming for attention and a [paradox] with which i am sorely accustomed. a new apartment and a knowledge of the scene keeps me from ever truly knowing who and where my true friends are. where my inspiration lies is in a book unwritten, a passage unread, a song unsung, and a painting not rendered by God or his constituates.

if not beggar, label me mercenary, patiently waiting for someone to either:

a) save me, or
b) appraise me.

def believe nothing more than this quote out of context.

"cameras or guns, one of ya'll is gonna shoot me to death."

time (when all else fails)

time chimes in
with ticks talking,
stalking men,
chalking outlines,
and shocking sins
into submission; when
all else fails,
bail.

show me a boat unsailable
and i'll show you a love infallible

time makes men of boys,
tools of toys,
sins of joys,
fables of stories,
lovers of friends,
graves of men,
weapons of pens,
and a welcome relief
of the lion's den.

but take no solice,
it won't come soon enough.

a quote out of context

he had a look on his face that could only be described as defeat, distraction, and denial of the aforementioned. he took a lighter from his pocket and lit a cigarette he'd been studying since he arrived an hour before. the streets were dead and it seemed the little coffee shop, with it's bohemian air, was the only evidence of life in this town anymore.
flick. spark. inhale.
the first drag reminded him of his last, and how nothing holds significance anymore.
i'm in a rut.

the words fell short of a legitimate statement, whispered into his notebook between drags. he needed something that could only be described as solidarity, solution, and solace that the face across the table held everything but.
blink. sigh. exhale.
she looked as an angel would, the smoke circling in a make-shift halo, if an angel were to grow tired of the pursuit of perfection and depreciate the damaged souls outlawed by god; a misconception of grace. she reaches for the notebook, his pen in mid-scrawl, mind in mid-muse, before asking,
can i see what you've got so far?
she looks at what can only be described as a mess of empty phrases, misconstrued as a conscious stream of thoughts; a vain attempt to write life. he listens as she reads aloud the syllables and sentences, paragraphs and pauses, making light of his afflictions and giving way to an offbeat glance, stuttering the syntax. he shifts in his seat as she turns the page and continues,
and if ever there was a quote out of context, i'd be it. read aloud in a voice other than my own can only be described as the truest form of flattery.

you know, you're beautiful when you smile at me like you are right now.
and she was.
smiling. knowing. loved.

1713D

i'm the nice guy
that they
take for granted
until i'm not there anymore
and they
wonder why,
when i become reclusive
and standoffish,
i'm the bad guy
who missed out -
on what, though?
the drama?
the games?
the user-friendly
interface my
heart has become?
but for the occasional
useless love
lest you fall
in love
with being
in love
or rather
being loved
lest you fallout
before the
loveless shouts
wake you out
of wherever
you've been
sleeping,
dreaming
of me
to be
me but
someone else...

you can't trust me
i'll sabotage
deceive
and put thoughts
in your head.

i had a dream

i was being forced through a hallway of sorts that was too small for me
by a force that i couldn't see.
when i "spilled out" of the passage's "mouth," i was in an over-sized cookie sheet
with groups of people in each corner;
pointing,
laughing,
judging,
and then turning their backs to me.

except for one person.

she just stood there, crying, averting her eyes.
when she finally turned around after much persuading from the people around her,
her hands were behind her back,

tied.

she had no choice. i see that now.

convicted

i was raised in the church. a lot of people were growing up. and nearly every one of my closest friends attended through high school. and that's where we got off the bus, so to speak. we were 18, legally adults, able to make our own decisions. and what better way to kill two birds with one stone than to decide on our own to not go to church and rebel against our parents at the same time. what an idiotic idea that was. we're all faced with trials in our lives, and God never turns his back on us, but when we turn our backs on Him...well, He's a little less nice about what He allows us to endure. it just takes a lot more for some of us to come back around.

i had a lot of alone time gifted to me a few years back. a lot of time to just sit and reflect on what brought me to that point. there's a saying that "there are no atheists in a fox hole" and i didn't want to be that guy who just prayed when times were tough. so i studied, and meditated on the Word, and found out things about myself i never wanted to acknowledge. but i did. and i felt better for it. and i was grateful for the time God had given me to come back to Him...and then i was free. free to do whatever i wanted and it turned out i didn't want to rely on Him, it was merely a convenience, exactly what i didn't want it to be. but i guess i didn't want it bad enough because i strayed yet again and got a swift kick and some more time to think.

and i did - think. i thought really hard and long about what i was doing and why i was where i was in my life. i prayed, i broke down, i cried, i felt that weight you hear everyone talk about lift from my shoulders. i felt a change happen in my heart and mind and i liked it. i wanted more. so i studied. i did personal bible studies. i read the purpose driven life. i opened my heart to whatever He had to tell me and i listened - truly listened. and i was free yet again; not just physically, but mentally and spiritually lighter. i felt good.

and i still feel good. and i'm working on getting back to that point where i want Him and His words to affect my life more than they already do. where i have no doubt in my mind that His grace is sufficient for me. and i'm doing good, but sometimes we need a little extra push to sit us down in that pew; to get us on our knees; to get us in the Word; to get us needing Him.

and today i got that push. there are no ulterior motives, but that i want that peace i see in other people. it's one thing to see it in your parents, but a complete other to see it in a peer. i want that back. i need that. i know it won't be hard to find - it's always there, waiting for us - but it's the holding on that will be the struggle.

and i need all the help i can get.

left us stranded

in the last light of day when everything seems a bit softer,
we laugh less and sigh more (even more when we forget to breathe)
as the shadows reach further and claw at the ground,
the lakes search the skies and reveal what they've found
the streams take their time at what the rivers do quicker,
but they're still running towards something bigger and better.
and i knew right away, on that odd-numbered day in december,
that though time would march on, it's course would change
and all because we took it for granted, it left us stranded in so many ways
down here among these crowded streets, cold and worn by tired feet
i walk, faceless in a city built on anonynimity, determined not to turn around
afraid i might find what i've been chasing all along,
but doesn't want to be found...

mio frequentare oltre

the ghost of years past is wailing louder than ever, haunting my present, and spooking the normals. the thing is, i usually feel safe knowing that my past is behind me and i've learned from my mistakes and i'm not that guy. but with safety comes comfortability, which allows us to let our guard down, which sets us up to be completely blindsided; which is what ends up happening, more often than not. it's different than being set up for disappointment because at least then you know there's that chance, and deep down you're ready for it. but i wasn't - ready, that is - and when your legs get swept out from underneath you, getting right back up is not an option. you lay there, wondering what happened, asking what went wrong, and eventually demanding answers from anyone who might know, 'cause you have no idea.

i'm reminded of the old adage that goes "on the rocky mountain of life, you climb one step forward, but often slip two steps back." but i'm going to keep trying, keep "climbing," as it were. i'm not going to give up;

on her;
on us;
on lyfe.

def believe.