I want to live forever,
my name mocked by teens.
i want to live forever,
scholars gathering in teems.
i want to live forever,
in the pages of books people never bring to class,
i want to live forever,
in lovers poems that are supposedly original.
i want my name passed on from man to man,
generation to generation,
because maybe there is a life after this,
but really i just don't know that.
i want to live forever and this is the only way i know how

Have you ever seen the stars from atop a mountain,
Clear and chilled like the ice from heaven rests next to you?
Have you shaken a nomads hand,
Felt his loneliness and content, been slightly jealous?
Have you felt the desolation of the dunes of Coral Sands,
So close to your fellows yet so far?
There is so much you have yet to see,
so much i could show you.

Yet i see in your eyes things i never dreamed,
sunsets on sky scraper littered horizons,
the joy of a crowd celebrating a new year,
of meeting new people every day.
There is so much i have yet to see,
so much you could show me.

I remember that dark summer night as i sat on the ground and averted my eyes. I remember the 9 mm Ruger ringing out and echoing across the rows and rows of houses, houses filled with people who don't know the tragedy that just struck.
I remember hugging what remained of my childhood friend, his blood soaked fur dripping into my mouth and coating my hands.
I remember washing my hands for hours night, trying not to wash away the blood but the memories.
I remember years later working at a fast joint, the way the beef patties poured blood and the feeling of it drying on every surface.
I remember every night when i got home washing my hands until the blood of the bovine was replaced with the blood of a boy trapped in a mans body. I wasn't trying to wash away the blood, but the memories.
and it seemed no matter how hard i scrub no matter how long i remain determined, that some grime will never leave me.
I remember telling my friends and they would ring out "no no there is nothing wrong with wanting to be clean."
I nod as i think to myself "there is nothing wrong with washing my hands until i lose count in the sixties and have to start over. there is nothing wrong with brushing my teeth after every meal and at least once a hour. There is nothing wrong with everytime something dries on my hands, crying in a public restroom where no one can see."
i remember a dark autumn night, where i carry out the smaller of my childhood friends. I remember singing to him, the only creature to have heard me sing.
I remember averting my eyes as a .22 rifle rings out, drenching his fur in blood. I remember digging with dry eyes and steady hand.
I remember washing my hands until i lost count at sixty then starting over again.
I remember losing count three times that night.
I remember replacing the feline's blood with my own.
I remember... and i wish i didn't.

Will you run away with me?
see places we've never dreamed?
will you leave tomorrow?
to a world all its own?
will you hold my hand?
atop a bullet train?
will you run away with me?
to a world we've never dreamed?

Tattoo

Who knows if tomorrow comes?
for the worlds we build,
and the ones we burn,
captains of our fate we called ourselves.
who could be as foolish as we?

The blushing and pain,
a tear dripping from my face,
as it mingles with sweat,
all of it is worth it,
if you but show the best jewel given this world,
smile and it will all be worth it.

your blue eyes shining into mine,
rocking in your chair,
the smile on your face,
dwarfing the sun in comparison.
you tell me how beautiful the cicadas sound,
how we should do this more,
i barely have breathe to agree,
because you took it from me.

It is said old men send young men to war,

but that is no longer true,

Politicians and civilians vote and argue,

while my brothers and my sisters,

and cousins, and uncles and aunts,

go to battle,

fighting and dying.

when they come back they are broken,

unable to tell friend from foe.

the same ones who sent them there,

spit on them, call them baby killers,

or fakers.

She is a smile in the sun,
speeding down the road with a laugh,
her blows in the wind,
hair rushing across her face.
but the most amazing thing about her,
is how she makes you feel.
excited and alive,
you smile and scream.
stealing glances at her perfect lips,
wishing you could have a taste.

i just know that when i walk to somewhere new that i see things that make me stop and write. and there is no better feeling than being overwhelmed to point of stopping whatever i am doing to scroll a story. it is comparable to an orgasm honestly. and i know travelling gives that to me. i know looking at my most recent stories and poems they would NEVER have been possible without what i have seen and i think how many more stories am i missing out on.

Oh how i miss it; A life without worry of pain or boredom. How the waves crashed against the bow as i surge forward. Gib and main taut and wrinkless, the wind and the spray cloaking my face. Forced to feel, forced to be aggressive, through the tacks and waves. The keel leagues from the bottom. I am invincible at sea. While the warm air and cold water are so far away yet those times live on in my heart. One day i will sail again.

never has there been a more beautiful day than the day my name escaped your lips

i say its wonderful, i say i am happy for you but the words leave clenched teeth and teared cheeks. you have just broken my heart into five million pieces just by being happy. i do not think i could be anymore selfish right now as you burn my world around me

A smile that shines across the room,
You are not like the others,
You cling to your friend like a child thrown to the waters,
Our eyes meet but you avert,
I spent all night gathering my courage,
Before my words finally spilled,
The smile on your face pushing me on,
But thunder interrupted,
I left disappointed,
I didn’t even get your name.

Love is such a fickle thing, it lives inside me making decisions that will never have a happy ending. Love does not care about fairy tales or wise advice, but instead choose on a flood of chemicals and warm moments. Love is a fickle thing and it will be the end of me.