Sleep tonight.
The lights shut off in honor of you.
For a pillow and a dream.
The day has ceased.
So dream the night away.
Look at you.
In the glorious aftermath.
Your eyes are heavy with history.
You saw so much today.
Take it all in and sleep softly.
This is just one more for the books.
And awake!
To a picturesque day.
Where suns dance in the backgrounds of paintings of beaches and sands
And clouds calm you with silver smiles.
Musical notes are sung from the beautiful birds hovering up above
and they echo down below, where the waves crash subtly against your feet.
Hands wrapped around your heart.
The love is taken slow like the pace of wondrous forests.
I could show you a place,
Among the stars and the galaxies,
Hidden away from them.
You must excuse me, but I want you all to myself.
You see, you’re something special
And I’m something selfish… tonight.
You have it. You’ve got it.
In your arms, in your chest, in your heart, in your soul.
I gave to you something I’ve kept.
Locked inside of me.
My heart is in your hands, your mind, your finger tips, your lips.
You always stay close because you care so much.
Why are you so far away from here?
Oceans and lands away from me.
This fireplace trickles along with the best of us.
The music plays on with the best of us.
You heart beats along in rhythm.
I can feel it in your chest, upon mine.
I want to make you feel alive.
Like the beauty you possess.
The beauty that is so glamorous to watch.
I long for you.
You are so far away tonight.
May someone please split the world in half so I can climb around the side to see you.
And after the missing ceases,
After the longing stops,
You will finally be in my arms.
Let’s run away.
To some far away place,
Among a beach and a mountain,
And lay around and stare into each others eyes.
To talk the night away until we fall deep into slumber
And touch hand to hand while we sleep softly, our faces only a fingers length away from one another.
To relax and forget.
So that when we come back
Only we will know what we did.
Our own little secret.
Fighting kids with a disbelief in each other.
Bored out of their minds.
I’ve got a disbelief in them.
Tired towns that lay still along the coasts and valleys.
An imaginary line splits our souls into peace and prosperity,
But we live in peace.
You must prosper.
The wrong 3 letter acronyms.
A hatred for the luckier.
The lucky are too happy to notice.
3 letter acronyms helped with that.
Where can we take you?
Somewhere that would make you happy.
Some place where the skies open up and the sun shines through.
A place where scripture is read off the back of rusted bumpers.
Through this window I have seen many days start and many of them end.
I have encountered rain and hail and heat and sunshine through this glass.
The blinds and curtains change every few years, but, from this second story window, I’ve always been able to witness the same view: The hovering piece of a telephone wire on the backdrop of tree and building.
Behind that stands the top of a brown city mountain, or hill, that peaks right where the blue sky starts.
And sometimes the sky is gray like tonight, but I live for these nights.
On this side of the window I have not grown up with any ounce of ideal.
I fall down and stay down.
Sometimes I even fall asleep.
I stumble my way up staircases that lead to tomorrow.
But one thing I’ve always seen through my window is the freedom in the air that awaits on the outside, the open world that awaits my delayed arrival to it.
But I am here now.I am here to stay.
Up and around the castle walls we go.
Up and around the castle.
The mortar and pestle art forms that are spread around this continent.
Natural Museums.
Stone walls and checkered marble floors.
Beautiful scenery inspired by the treasures of the long departed moats and drawbridges.
Then to a peek of the peeling paint and the saints that roamed these halls.
A quick glimpse of the freedom found in smoking in the bathrooms
Or the science buildings built on top of bomb shelters and history.
Canteens and warmer wooden cafeterias.
Libraries that smelled like the browning pages of the printed paper sandwiched inbetween hard covers.
Libraries that seemed to hide gold in their books.
You would just have to find them hidden among the others.
A time when all you did was what you wanted.
When rules were meant to be broken.
They didn’t have to look out for you then.
They don’t have to look out for you now.
But they do.
And until they stop, the buildings will be torn down for new.
The paint will be fresh, the halls less legendary,
The desks comfortable, and the lockers removed.
The back of the school: Buildings painted beige with rusted water stains dripping from the roofs like waterfalls frozen in motion.
The nights seemed to last for years.
This is where we stand.
A January, February time and I’m losing the vision.
Can you hear it in the melody?
We were once special.
We ruled what we liked.
We were once special.
We had it all.
It echoes against the walls.
The tiny siren alarms the unsuspecting.
One long beep.
Then another.
1, 2! 1, 2!
It makes you feel like there is still life beyond our thoughts.
There’s still something alive out there.
I’m not the only one left.
Blaring proof to the future that there was once human life here.
I looked to my left.
She was gleaming with the lights from the buildings on the side of the road.
And as we strolled along quickly to see the fireworks it was as if she moved in slow motion.
She just seemed so natural.
I captured every moment of it.
It was then that I noticed that the theme park brings out something from inside of her,
Just like how she only adds to the beauty of the amusement.
The sights and the sounds and her face in this wonder
only show me something of which we do not speak of.
We just live it and live on and hope for the best.
And maybe I’m blinded by the lights and the smell and the tine,
or maybe I’ve just found her hiding behind it all.
There’s just something about this all.
Never have I fallen so low.
Or been pushed down to the ground.
I bleed from all angles
And the lights don’t flash fast enough.
The siren doesn’t howl loud enough.
You’re sightless to my becoming.
A little farther away from you.
My nose bleeds. My elbow’s scraped.
I don’t want to feel.
Fury and resentment boil up inside of you
And I’m the breath of oxygen that sets up the blast.
I am not here out of want sir.
Just let me finish and I’ll stay out of your way.
I’ll be gone before you know it.
I’ll leave you alone, everlastingly.
I didn’t see this coming,
this sort of thing,
though winters in the past have brought me luck.
There must be something in the air this year.
The breeze filled with warm smell of spices in November
And a mystic cloudy gloom in December.
It’s all rather beautiful when put together.
But here I was, wondering what came next.
With so many things in mind,
I felt the need to perfect them,
But instead something has fallen perfectly in my lap.
I didn’t see this coming,
This sort of thing.
It’s all rather beautiful when put together.
There’s something this November that flies around the air.
It’s this peace and color that brightens more with every new sun.
And at night it illuminates our faces just enough.
The cold this year likes to tease but we still keep warm.
And our arms stay linked and connect at the bottom at our fingertips
As our heads rest on one another’s with an easing calm, for comfort.
I don’t see this often.
I’ve no desire to take it for granted.
That way I can feel it brand new each time.
Ask me anything you’d like.
Never say sorry.