Attention, attention, it's late at night... I'm stung out on a day that promised no wrong or right.... Dry k on the hopes that maybe time would stop. But insteAd you're alsleep, now here I am lost. Not every night, some nighta you say, agents good. Maybe some nights I'm just not as I should... As I should be in hopes that younxould see all that's been left behind to get to me....

Facts:
08.18.15; 10:35 am
Vampyre of Time and Memory
Parking lot at Doctor's Office in Canfield, Driver's seat
Directly facing the sun

Met me in the Ether


The angels are working magic with their paintbrushes,
The Gods have opened their galleries for free....
The sleep walkers stroll past these pictures, so luscious,
But me, I let the moments seize....
This waking state,
This time and place....
The breaths that freeze to leave a life of grace....
Bleeding through space, into this masterpiece...
Oh won't you stop with me and watch the colors speak?
Hold my hand through the muse's land,
And touch what no one keeps?

August 17th, 12:42 pm
Remnants of Raindrop by Chopin in my memory,

What Child?

You say it get's better, so I'm locking myself in
Away from the lies, the games, and the destruction
Away from the flocks of heathens lost in chants,
Away from this dis-harmonic, out of rhythm dance
Away from the senses, the senseless, and the sane....
Away from the love that I cling to in vein
Away from everything that keeps e here.
I'm forcing myself to say where I fear
For one day atleast, I will be what I am....
For one day, atleast, I will not abandon,
The child within, crying out to be heard....
For one day I'll sit here and listen to her....

Not looking, not judging, not running or anylizing
For once day I'll lay by her side without dispising,
What we've done, and become without her say....
So I will let her speak to me for one day....

The world will go on, the hours will still pass
Regrets will still gather, and beggars will still ask....
The eager will still try, and the pretty will pose.....
The bees will get by, working their honeycombs....
And sweetness will tempt us, though it tells no truth...
Pleasure will rent us, leave us without room....
To watch this one day, this one child we've killed....
Through years of deadlines and paying the bills.....
Not enough time to try and understand
That none of us can have the upperhand....
Until we've looked down upon the low parts.....
Of the pain and screaming from our bleeding hearts.....
The sound that we silence, with bandaids to save,
This image we cling to of an unscathed face...
Blindly, like zombies, approving the numb....
Until we are too lost to dream or to want....
Anything real, anything from within....
I'm dying, my love, so for this day, please listen....

Facts: 08.17.15.
5:17 am,
Clock ticking in the background, I sit alone on the couch as day comes to be

Cuttlery

Slowly gnawing at my brain,
Heart's desires, beat in vein
Flashing through all that I see
Promises of a vision, sweet
A taste of heaven, never to end
Never to run out, we pretened
Through made up fields,
The glutton flees
Holding all his arms can keep
Taking more, along the way
Chasing after ecstasy's taste
Never felt, endlessly dremt
The temptress leads us to torment

Facts: 08.16.15.   
Jack White playing in the car
I write from the passenger's seat

A Poem of Observation

So disheartening, circles and lines.
Alarms and arrows, hit us with time
Scheduled departures, arrivals and shows
What are we seeing, and what do we know?
Piercing the air's skin, wearing thoughts like jewelry
Our words are proposed as they're diamonds to carry,
Some sort of promise, some sort of I do....
But who are we loving, and what are we married to?

08. Soundtrack: August night air... laying on the porch banister
date.is.irrelevant., but not forgotten

Contentment 

Laying on the porch, staring at the stars.
You knock on the window, smile from afar
Walk out through the doorway, watch the cars pass by
Sit down on the table, tell me that I'm fine
Open up your head, the past and future speaks
Bleed into this present, underneath the trees
Healing last year's questions, that seemed to bad to ask
I thought I never could get something like we have,
But that's just the truth, a passing, portrayed phase
Something we can't hang upon walls, like these days
Pictures, ever changing...... Held by fragile frames.
Here, we've captured each other, to never look the same
And I pray that you'll keep me, as the months go on
As windows gather frost, and my breath leaves a mark
In the air that will with what hopefully moves
Into a brand new season, to begin with you

Facts: 8.28.15 Hatful of Hollow in backgound

Mid-Morning, remnants of breath, inscribed

Schedules, approvals, requests, Sunday bests.... Every day of the week, but worship never rises. No rest, the rest is sleepwalking. Chainsmoking. Socially Drinking. Friends, sometimes, acquaintances, perhaps.... Strangers, always..... Stumbling, choreographed through a graph mapped to a maze.....Billowy clouds of haze float us along..... No destination, no seats, please, make yourself feel at home.... Can I get you a beverage, something to eat? What channel would you like to watch? Have you seen this one show? Heard that one line? I see it eating you from within, the plot you've yet to write..... The story you've yet to right.... The door is over there, but you said you'd stay til ten. Visiting hours are never. Searching endlessly beyond the clock. Tick toc, tick toc, let me pencil you in. Draw up a sketch of what cannot be asked for. How dare we question. How dare we go against this loose blue print..... Please take your shoes off, don't ruin the carpet......

I lay in my room in the nude.... Singing beneath the covers, reading upon the pillows.... Notes your dreams left behind in tears..... I will breath them to life, set my bare lips on fire..... Can you hear me now? With the heat of this flame blistering your ears? With the pulse of urgency beating against your hearts gone numb?

Does that fit into maybe sometime next week? Monday at three? Your place? I'll bring the tea, you bring the sympathy... Combined misery shall make for splendid company.... Though something tells me that we will forever be alone.... For the taboo truths lay dormant, in x's upon calendars hanging themselves..... Plans are like a noose.... But how can one live, hanging onto nothing?