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The solstice brought a series of ambivalent grins to the mountain ranges;
the map-maker stared in disbelief.
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Come about on your own volition and make sure you divulge every detail
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graced by the pieces of warmth that trickle down through air,
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The remainder of omniscience is segregated between minds. Within each individual this sliver of omniscience coalesces with seclusion,
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Driving through the half light of an innumerable score of fragmented memories, parts of names and faces clouded in opacity bubble to the surface of my mind,
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A feather fell from the sky today,
a small white smudge against the faded-amber sand.
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A mass of faces that I can distinguish instantaneously moves around me, seeking the circle to which I am not part of.
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Here I sit reading of atonement,
a warmth spreading across my back from the sun
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Surrounded by beautiful people all with disfigured hearts
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and balance is achieved for seconds in between the shaking
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from the first walk to the final, the tone is made clear a poison gas filtered the air, affecting only one
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There is a plan that is bound between the matter of the skies.
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One number.
How can one little number speed up my heart
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It was just an idea that led to the creator's self-imposed damnation.
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It's safe to say
that she is not worth the time of day
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He's my friend.
He's my friend.
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At a young age we begin to learn of regret
and just what hindsight truly is.
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Your generalization did not fool me.
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Stories we've heard and told far too many times...
I am as much a victim as a murderer.
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You forfeit membership in the family, the blood fraternity, and no matter how hard you try, you can't pretend to be a part of it.
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To stare, looking past realism, past fact, past the long-awaiting clues.
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I wrote him love letters in eight line stanzas,
lyrics that his ears would never hear
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Detested at myself,
I invoke my will to change.
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I stare at the sunset no one else notices.
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I'm looking at the sun. I can't help it that he's in my peripheral vision.
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We throw around forever without a moment's notice.
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The sun streamed in between the venetian blinds /
warming one half of my face, a partial mask for a partial glow
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It breathes as a liquor tries to diffuse, /
thick in the throat and a beauty to taste
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The grief comes and goes like the temperamental rainstorm,
pelting at the ground as a torrential downpour
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There's a Raskolnikov in every fantastical dream
and a Gatsby pursuing the impossible in each tormented heart
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Something tells me I'm entering dangerous territory
a place that not even those twisted enjoyable nightmares have seen
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We are all a lost generation
gazing at these wedding cake walls
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Resilience of the blinkers - those stars of rapturous blue
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We were punks for a day;
thick black boots and even thicker eyes
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