downtown romance

don’t remember how we met
or even what state we might have been in
we could have been in a train or maybe a store
not likely we were in a bar unless it was a holiday
the outfit i was wearing is the same one i always have on
only your eyes lighting up when we met not your clothes
was it a monday morning or a friday night i don’t know
now that i think i do know your hair was up
rings on every one of your fingers except one
off behind you somewhere there was a plant
must have handed my attention over completely
as those first words come out of your mouth
never felt so elevated just by a simple conversation
could not possibly have dreamed where this future leads
every day and night just seems more close
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insane worry again

in the thunderstorm rhythm so hard to ignore
needles and pins running down my spine
silver stars blocking portions of vision
accepting the fact i am meant to ache
number of times i attempt to make it stop is large
equal to the racing heartbeat i dwell under
while each five minutes seems to take forever
only the dryness of my mouth doesn’t last
recovering just in time to sweat back into pain
refractions of reality through the impact of
yearning to feel something besides this again
after all that has happened i just hope to
get a few pleasant hours before i fade off once more
and i can sense myself phasing out of existence
if i can somehow keep the vision of you in my mind
none of this hurt is as bad
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artistic responce

and on top of it all you never stop when
ready, you just keep on going and
taking on each new day, chugging along
in the best way you ever have had,
sometimes its easier and sometimes you feel
torn up, old and creaky like your grandad,
increase the effort that you got deep inside,
coming out when you push the pedal down,
right when time gears up and starts brewing
explicit passion like a river always flowing,
stop thinking that time is really slowing,
pop up out of the old ways and join us in the future,
offer up a new sacrifice to the impending altar,
nevermind the keeping up of appearances,
confirm the end result and allow
each moment we share to glow through
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question cliff

refined in the heat of a cold hard
summer and ready at the turn and
made into the steel of a winter resolve yet a
determined last story before heading out on the
trail to find where a desolate edge of rock
can be used to make a home and the leaving
of all society and its underpinnings will not be
forgotten when a doorway to the need of a
mind’s escape has become the only
vacation to be hoping for and a long bout of
quiet will become the most desired communication
yet not one set of delivery on arrival will let
the sun shine in as much as actually opening
your very own door and getting back to the
very same stage that you know you
were at before
open the curtain
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excellent desire

except for when i am asleep
xylophone playing on my teeth
can’t even open my eyes sometimes
evenly the pressure building in my skull
lifting those worries about myself which
let me increase the accuracy of my thinking
ended all the doubt that last year compiled
nevermind these collected choices in question
this future now requires my total concentration
daring as i can stand to be
error on the side of caution each day
so i can get out of the world inside my brain
if i use all the tools at my disposal
ready for the universal truths in tonight’s sky
every time the moon wanders in
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story playing

sitting so stale and breaking out
of no mold but comfortable in the same
actions every day and repeated all
through the night like a movie set on repeat
which starts over again and again and has no
positive impact of a place to come from across
the hours you wonder where all the time
went and then the weeks and then the months
and nothing new was tried so there is no
song which means this right now and there is no
story which can complete the scene and there is
no painting which can show the colors that
you mean and no dance which can show the
place that you are coming from so the
next chapter of the book may never
even arrive
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three year afternoon

while the time winds down each
hour has its own way of
sliding among the shallow wind of our
shared histories and plays that were
running across all of the broad brushstrokes
of our times and collecting those hidden
personal experiences that have tumbled along the
edge of this decade’s riverbed while the
changes riding in the storm have never left the
mountaintop of irresistable momentum and each
shocking new headline has lost whatever
surprise had been attempting to brew within itself
after all of our society has brought its
thick skin and disinterest back from another yearly
broadcasters attempt at staying relevent as
the days all blend together when every new
shock rolls on the heels of last week’s nightmare
yet the registering of trauma that fast is what
we are steadily becoming numb to
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