soliloquy of season

Do you know what I like to say

When the rain is pouring

While we stare outside the doors

And try to make out the sun within the clouds?

There’s no better place than here.

That’s what I like to think when I

Am under water and looking up

The only place where the cold air can’t touch

Is where you don’t let it.

And that my friend, is  a wonderful feeling

The time is right and the temp is great

I love it, and I love you.

And nothing can happen to us as we sit here

In our crying shelter, from the rain the blood

And the pain.

It’s there. We are here.

It’s summertime, even though it might not look

Like it just quite yet.

It’s here. Just as we are.

It never really goes away.

There’s a wonder to every little nook and cranny

Of every tiny thing we ever do.

And it’s beautiful

I’d ask if you agree but there is no need

So just keep silent

And enjoy the soliloquy of the seasons

I run to your arms.

And I realize the entire time I was wrong

I sat there and looked as you as a black

Sad thing that stared indefinitely with eyes black

Into the sun

But as I got to know you you weren’t that bad

You were as lost as me

Maybe more so.

I cried in your eyes and didn’t listen

To the dark clouds in the forest wasting away

Getting closer when they wanted to show

But now I’m here

And you are there

And I am just wondering where things go from here

Because being strong isn’t as important

As it was five minutes ago

The talk of the town

That’s not us

But I think we’ll survive

Because we are who we are

You are me

And I am you.

The happiness is there

Without going away.

Smiling without fading, for now, and forever

Without a care in the world

With smiles in the air

And tears in the ether

But that’s ok

Because the people in the smokey bars

And the hallways can look

And long and wonder

But they won’t understand

And they won’t believe me

Can forever be forever?

I sure hope so. Because I believe

And I think you believe too.

I tried, but now I know.

Sometimes things are meant to stay

And Christmas sometimes comes all year long

Without wonder or anticipation

And we can just celebrate it and explore it everyday.

door

That door, I look at it

And it stares at me back.

With it’s looking glass

And the knocks that come

Sometimes I want to open it

Othertimes I want to let it be

But regardless I sit here and stare

Time ticks off the top of the head

And wonders where it goes

But the door it never fades

Although a random riot

May sit there and try to tear it down

No. It’s there. As it sits

Infinite whiteness and solidarity

Monolithic and staring

With its single looking glass.

One day I might knock.

And see if the door is opened

By such a petty action.

But no, for now with

My lack of knowledge

For the amount of locks and

What may be outside

I will sit here. And wonder

And use the thoughts of my dreams

To sit here and speculate

What may be on the outside

And such a sad existence

Is only what one on the outside

May think.

dark room

I tried to write to you when

The ground cracked and the squirrels squealed

Nobody will hear the sad sounds

Of symphonies running their midnight errands

Although do you remember that time my dear

When I texted my friend the last few digits of

The return to my decision of med school.

The only land I had was my own,

And the return of the second distance can only be there

When you had the talk with your parents about the glory

The glory and the beauty

The glory, sitting in this dark room

And wandering when the stirs are going to cry out

Into the cold morbid meticulous sky to see peace

Twisted and torn down spaces of crampness

Approaches the taste of sensitive tenure.

And you look at me like you don’t know what I’m talking about

Although I’ve been standing here the entire time.

It never was that easy. You either were born with it or not

The tasty victory of those above are not meant to come but crumbs.

I just want a five page paragraph

That tells me what your small bits of life are like

I have friends across the globe, but my best friend is

My carpet. And the heart skips when the little light

Blips on my cell phone

Give the people what they paid for

The pennies or the dollars doesn’t matter much to me

Just when the boiling in the stomach sets

And the girlfriend looks at the blog to check

If anything has been put it up on the last three months

Sometimes it has although whoa not often

Chocolate tears are the types that the woman takes when

She can’t take the photos of the entire class

Because the entire class would rather cry and squirt

Then take a silly photo for her