I equate my life to tiny intervals,
Too complicated in design to comprehend.
I become impatient clicking-
Ticking
Hands away and
I cannot rush the day.
I settle myself on tough equations
And with resignation
I exclaim,
"I cannot know all worlds."

Cos every portion of you
Seems to exist elsewhere,
Or otherwise too far in the back of my mind.
Like counterfeit dreams created
For conversation,
I categorize and paint you,-
A trick my mind plays to deceive me.

I could spend days searching skies
For all the answers in attempts to ease my mind,
While asking voiceless shadows and
Tingling feelings to give me the right words.

I'd blame fate and reject guilt?

No, when you're upset all islands sink,
And I shouldn't clasp hands around

Fairytales and myths of sorts
For guidance
Nor
shall I shift mind and deliberate the problem of time.
Because all thunderclaps roll back to Thor's great fists.

But as before and always still,
Altar calls remain for cowards, I'll never bury emotion there.
If love require kneeling,
You'll find me at your bed

i'll keep silent if you stay.

i'll mark my words with yours,

and seal my lips with pearls.

i'll drench myself in patterns

that change each time,

tasting sweet, and then sometimes

bitter- (like a wine)

it's different?

-new--,

than it was before.

and i travel trails with my fingers:

navigating craters and hills i travel now with palms.

my palms grope territories that seem so familiar,

sentimental.

cherished.

I never asked for anything.

snow gold could be replaced with cellophane,

so long as your promise is the same.

cardboard is just a safe as mortar and brick,

if your arms around me is what comes with it.

I'll change my name

no matter my mood.

the reassurance that you're making a place for us,

based on desires of your own.

come home to dinner every night.

cos in my mind the perfect day is as good as i make it.

ive got a box of cards with your name on them all,

that make promises. I cant forget what they say, because

you repeat them through your kisses.

And when I hold you at arm's length,

it is not to push you out that far:

I am only holding you at a distance,

that I might truly see that face and

all that you are.

Up close, I am afraid, that I am blinded

by the way I blur you,

beautiful colors and fragmented shapes,

an abstract.

However, the colors are just as vibrant

where I hold you out there,

so nearness must never be an issue.

we stub ourselves from tiny moons that stick out
past the edges of our toes.
and i drag my heels against the carpet,
static surging up my spine,
and the lightning bolts I will create against
the hair on the back of your arms.

and faces that each other do not know
burn in the back of our minds.
the past doesn't matter, right.
we cling to each other,
nose to nose.

At this distance, I am feeling
the coldness of my cheek pressed up
against the glass
of windows high on second floors,
breath beating and vanishing,
sucking and blowing out my chest.
I hear the whisper of you sleeping,
even though you know not I am there.

I'm waiting patiently for any word,
until them I will sit on the outside
looking in, lurking shadows,
hoping you never see me there.

This is not to alarm you,
there's just a curiosity about
the twitching of your eyelids,
and what visions loom themselves
in colored threads under there.