(day 2623)

There’s no line to draw,
Fence to climb,
Curtain to open,
Or purchase to make.
There’s only truth.
There’s what makes truth.
There’s living truth,
Speaking truth,
Believing truth,
And being truth.
There’s you,
And you’re truth.
Should you choose it
You can become it
Since there is no seperation
From one truth to another
Just truth
From you to me.
And that matters.

The Bane of Fullness (day 2470)

I don’t want to hold onto this enormous feeling.
A Skeptic once said the past isn’t present,
So let us believe that a fullness isn’t real
(A limit we reach where we can no longer give, share, believe),
Let this feeling take us on a tenderness stroll
Like sheer cotton shading giant pillows we lounge upon,
Meandering through ancient streets and wild forests
Where we stop at every third park bench we pass
To sit closely and pretend we’re still consciously speaking
In syllables that reason can understand and explain,
For to me your words speak in gestures only my ears
– And perhaps the dear sweet Cupid who so cleverly pinned us –
Can fully grasp at, mingled so heavily with vibrant lips
My eyes cannot escape being entranced by,
And breath mine hairs can feel so warmly upon
With your gentle yet firm fingers ever so delicately
Squeezing a new pattern into mine palm of eternity.
I want to hold onto you, the back of your neck with softest of curls
As our lips mean to share what we’ve intoned of a feeling,
Forgetting for brief moments our shooting star madness
And living a while longer by the bane of our senses.

A Path (day 2432)

I’m not trying to let you down
No, this isn’t me leading you
This isn’t a game
Where I roll the dice,
Make the calls
And you follow
Anxiously trying to grasp
The next move
To believe you had made
The better choice.
I’m here to talk to you,
To bite first upon your supple skin
To hold your hand
As we take each other higher
Upon the path of our desires
That anxiously awaits
To share our stories,
That believes so effortlessly
We have a reason to live
In servitude for each other,
While remaining unbelievably strong
In our hearts
So we can fully grasp hold
Of our purest magnitude,
Giving freely the most valuable asset
Of my heart.

Over The Mountain (day 2138)

With my soul that’s been flying
I’ve gone over the mountains
Swept little known secrets
Into every day dealings
And with two birds singing
I’ve heard excellent ringing
My mind isn’t reeling
And I’ve come to believe in
What an effort can do then
Like a hand out of water
And heights I’ve been feeling
With my soul that’s been flying.

Hot Rocket (day 2133)

Call it what it is
On a gold line to Maine
Like a hot rocket lit.

You know where you’re going
It ain’t no cruel plan
Pick up where you left off.

Hold strong to live strong
Believe what you do know
Getting in to it to get lost.

Sell it all away
It had it’s day yesterday
Ran out of what to say.

My red line is feeling fine
Horizon line slipping by
Call it what it is.

I Cannot Believe in More (day 2097)

I cannot believe
What continually turns me around
I’ve got ten thousand wounds
Pierced through my broken soul
I’ve spent every summer
In the winter of my heart
And the coldness always warms up
What has forever been alone
I pull apart my chest
To reveal my ancient glacier
Upon which my survivor
Wags back and forth his tail
I separate every bit of sunlight
From creeping darkness setting in
And I’m left with an aggressive snarl
Cause I’m out looking for more.

Maker (day 1365)

I don’t want to hold hands with fate anymore,
I don’t want to believe there’s a right way,
Or that I have a significant impact on worth,
On death, or the elusive act thereof.

With whom shall I grow old with,
If I am not planning it out?
With what shall I enjoy, if gamblers
Keep convincing me I’m right.

Share my soul with wounded hearts!
Hardly healthy and needing.
Share my aches amongst the rocks!
Already scalded sourly
For I am no man fit for redemption,
I am no guest at the gates of fate
And I have brought no gifts for my maker.

Pages (day 820)

All my lies are filled with unskilled talent
Washing out the good pages
Diluting the mixture until I begin to believe them
I should be sentenced to death
For the nonsense I pretend
If it weren’t for the gamblers
For the fortunate good-will
I’d find myself lollygagging lost
In the lies I weave around my butterfly
Dancing in my pretty shoes
And printing more pages to spoil