don't claim Saviour

status me this

if on a Monday in October

a being of an inconsequential race and place

came up with a different idea

one he didn't think much about

one he didn't perfect

but one that stayed with him

in that way that ideas stay

and he recorded it

aptly, properly, virally, naturally

 it was shared

and he left his name there

it was his idea

and many agreed

and many took it and added to it

and it was built up

and built on

and built in

and then it was something new

a new idea, a concept 

shaped

and his name was still there

inscribed in the cards, and windows

and you looked in 

and you were sucked in 

and you looked around 

and found it to be disagreeable

follow me now

there is a door behind you

there are doors all around you

there are windows on the first floor

there is an escape route

this idea is a stop, not a permanence

you scream
you yell
you stomp
you demand to see the man with the name
and you want everyone
the workers
the builders
the adders
the agreers
to get out, to move out, to tear it down

my question is, why do you not leave?

why do you stay to picket

why stay and protest?

why not move out

and move on

and move into a place of your own

or some other place

it's not in your way
it doesn't affect you

but still you choose to be war. 

envelop

Bursting out of the hidden mechanisms
of my inner mind
is the single
         solitary
         only
truth that I can express
From the top
From a window
From the loudest place in my lungs
The only thing I felt:
                             "i don't know!"

Because he taught us

"Take care of the sense,
and the sounds will take care of themselves."

He apologized profusely
He couldn't possibly have known

if only you hadn't been standing there
when he whispered "I won't let you go, I will wait"
he didn't mean it of course
and he couldn't see why he was on trial
It was all a mistake
you got in the way
had you turned around 'I love you too'
would of been visible
on His mirror
you misheard Him
you misread
your mistake
though He is sorry
He sends his best

but next time, do better

a real train

I was bored
I was alone
I was cleaning my room
so I made up my mind
and left to go
I got to the train station
on my own
I was tired, and hungry
and so content
the rolling
passing
fleeting
landscape greeted me,
too fast to judge what I was saying
it was perfect
everything listened
everything was warm
and the mosquitoes killed themselves

appreciated

thank you
for being the one who is there
because they really need that person
they need those people who can be strong for them
to stay there for them
they need them or else they will disappear
and no one wants that
least of all those who feel (shame)
like they should have some responsibility
so thank you
for lifting our burdens
thank you for being the one who is there
so we don't have to be

The next five will rhyme

I think she spat on the sidewalk
and I held it against her, my rock
I sent to the next door
to sift through her trash and once more
I thought about the glitter and dancing
and can't believe I forgot while romancing
that the ones that came before were all blonde
and it isn't a fact that you will respond
but I have words left, this was no war
in an ocean we have stalemates left, you snore
asleep until I'm alive again, I was the best one
you'll forget about me, but you're infected, you can't run
I hid first and when you hide here I'll speak
and you'll think "my god" and wish you had feet,
but I cut them off in the first book
You thought I was sad and longing, you mistook

100

It's not hard to forget
memories fade in and out
even triggers begin to lose aim
old words are no measure 
it's hard not to blame the past
it's hard not to look back
and feel
but it's not hard to forget
it's not hard to look away
and forget to look behind frames
it's easy to wake up
and move past the things on the floor
it's easy to get into the car
and turn on the radio
and not think once about a yesterday
it is hard not to blame the past
when time stops
and scars you forgot about: scratch
it is hard not to cling
to the things that caused this before
but its not hard to forget
it must of existed before

quote of the day: updated

May was mine first

I don't know why I do this
but it woke me up today
the idea that your baby blue
was making you so intolerable
with love and butterflies
no original thoughts there
just I feel pretty
and sad and yellow
so damn yellow

I wish the best for everyone
and I have tolerance for a blocked friend
so cute
so shiny
I like the pink and pictures
I like the stolen words
I loved your quote of the day

These aren't my words

I think we're all going to be alright
I know we're all in the middle of figuring it out
Whether we decide to laugh everything off
or we run out of time and die
we'll figure it out
We will all decide to stop running
or stop hiding
and we'll come out
and there will be a huge party
like the party everyone wants when they say 'lets party'
and then we'll all go to sleep
and life will go on

I want to want to

what I want
is for everyone I know to be happy
to smile when I talk to them
because they were already smiling
I want them to call me because they saw something beautiful
or they had an enlightening idea
and I want to be able to look around and see something normal
simple, normal, and less than extraordinary
I want to wake up when my alarms goes off
with plans
and people to love
I want to sleep when I’m tired
and to cry when it’s overwhelming
and to understand myself when I choose to be aware
I want to buy things I need
when I need them
I want to run  
and to breathe when I inhale
I want to go where I want
and I don’t want to explain anything

A borrowed skirt

She isn’t a dream

In memories I can see her

sitting there in the windows

of future houses

I can hear her singing

In my ears, by my face

I can feel the cuts

the bruises

from tomorrows without her

She isn’t allowed to be photo-ed

lost in words and sentiments

She writes still (to be remembered)

in the corners of my work

She invited the enemies in

She refuses not to exist

shallow breathing

the thick air had gotten too selfish

thinking about all the things it could do

it swam around gathering ideas

weighing down those who had been relying on it to hold them up

a heart

thinking it could escape

tied itself to as many moving parts as possible

It didn’t know it was in too deep

and all it felt was the endless tugging

it didn’t move

Her eyes built up

an empire of wisdom

they went out to preach, but forgot to speak

leaving behind a burning desire to be heard

a painting of longing  in place of regret

a moment

Thinks

instead of acting out loud ideas
 I thought about bringing the thoughts together
into quiet meaningful words
  I thought about whispering straight truths
Instead of playing with games and hard chemicals
 I thought about changing each complicated moment
into a sweet fleeting honest thing
I thought about using numbers
and logic
and definitions
to say what I mean
I thought about never deviating from the planned attack
or the written goals
or expectation

You asked me a question, and I smiled
and thought about telling you the truth

Fashionable

There's an old warm spot here
 it has never died out
no matter how many chemicals I buy
it won't fade
it won't change
it stays constant, warm
Yesterday this was a problem
I had to keep changing the scheme of my room
all of my colours clashed
all of my symmetry was broken
Now, in the present
this warm spot is in style
it's been accepted
welcomed
appreciated
a slight change in atmosphere
making it only slightly cooler

 making it cool: not a problem.

Greatest Achievment Since..

We will be relentless
and true
we will have nights
where we can say
justice has been done
and then dive back under the covers
to continue to share the burden
we will prevent further attacks on our shores
and use this unity to testify of our greatness
I'm securing what we set out to do
we have committed and sacrificed
and we will bless ourselves
God willing and God fearing

now back to work.

Stolen Miles

It's hard to write to a beat
that's not your own
when you close your eyes and see
the movement, a motion
that you can't catch
and you can't ride
to that place of inspiration
you've got nothing but this noise
and it's beating you up
into a useless mess
and you set traps to catch it
and catch yourself off guard
and put your guard off
to try to say something honest
but your innocence is so far
and the truth is so far
that all you have left is
'well everything was wrong'
and all you can share is
'shh, it's almost over'
and you call out over the voices
and you raise up the tones
and the systematic rhythms
and you fall down into transformation
and you accept that the sounds are not your own
and you conform
until it is your music
and you write the song
and you call it insanity
then you open up your mouth
then pop goes gravity