rhymes with hate.

it's elementary
that I would eventually
have out song
and out scored
our source
of devotion
and now I'm invoking
our deep right of motion
and moving
over and on top
of a new destination
so simply I'm saying

salutations.

pancake house

I am not worried about you
looking into my eyes
or hearing in my voice
that I still have every reason
and I still have every thought
and I still have every dream

I am not worried that you'll show up
and see I've only done it again
or at least I feel as if I have

I'm not worried you might feel my heart
it racing in my throat when I try to answer you
or that you'll notice the shake in my hands
when I try to steady myself against
how you're handling it

I'm not worried that you'll notice me watching
your every move
or that you'll even notice my ransom notes


I'm not worried

Merry Happy

You can laugh
at me in my house
when I'm dancing around
and singing at the top of my lungs
You can laugh when I've had nothing to drink
but that was still one too many
So I called you up
and told you all the things
I was going to do to you
and you can laugh when you think I don't know
what you're thinking
 and that I'm so naive
But I know you weren't lying
I know that you want me
and you can laugh when I tell you this
but I still get to buy us dinner
and I still get to read your mind
while you're eating
with your mouth full
You can laugh
you're lucky you're cute

because I'm the funny one

back to black

I'm trying to think about
a better image
Like a better coloured soup
or a brighter light in the lamppost
or something shinny in a dark place
but it all gets caught
in a wind of thoughts
that all look exactly the same

and we are always quick to call things black
or bright
or soft
one thing or another
because we know the definition
We don't need faith to call them their names
but then we're still quick to call things true
and right
and love
when we can't really know that
we know the definition
but it's still not certain
and the images in my head aren't certain
but they're black, and bright, and soft

I'd prefer thinking about rushing pools of gray
and crystal falls of mist
or a sky filled with orange coloured doubt
just something pretty and imagined
but my thoughts are all dull and plain
and constant

knock

It's highly unlikely that I show up tonight
But I did buy a ticket
So I could
And maybe it would be weird if I was standing behind you
But I know where you are
So I could
Also it'd be weird if I knew more about her
although I have a right
So maybe I could
But it isn't interesting to me
it actually kinda bores me
Thankfully I know who I am
almost because of you
but really in spite
so if you really think about it
It wouldn't be so weird if I showed up tonight
Because I always pop in when you'd least expect it
and when you have the most to hide
I'm perceptive that way
(hey you)

it's not poetry anymore

I can pray still
I can pray that maybe
even after I've screamed
(it was only goodbye)
that even after you know that I hate you
and even after you've seen proof
and heard
and even after too many new lines have been crossed
I can pray that you'll call it bluff
that you'll point at my insanity
and call it what it is
and 
Well I don't know what it is
sometimes I'm right
very right, and sometimes it's not us
and sometimes I'm not good enough
and I'll run and close my eyes to the pain
but I never run far enough
I guess it's how I stay alive
I must like it
what else is (love) for?
I'll stay, to watch you
sort through your quick forevers
remembering how it worked when I was there

I can still pray.

Poetry

fuck this

It's just

woo
well, It's not like I didn't see it
or feel it
or taste it
but it was all a little fuzzy
and shaky
and it's always made me nauseous
like caffeine
but I keep drinking it anyways
and I keep shopping for dresses
walking by the hats
and if you knew how much I like hats
this would appall you
but hey
this is just honesty
just words
and bubbles
(what's with the bubbles?)