Hide and Seek

What if I told you I was lost without you? Wandering astray as the numbers rumble through my throat.

Stumbling upon the broken limbs of the forest left behind for only tomorrow to reap it's benevolent grace.

The footprints dissappear behind us.

Knees buckle to the fear that we may be alone in a place that doesn't exist anymore.

So let's hide.

Hide ourselves from the dawn and everything that it hides behind it's horizon.

Let's watch our mark fade into the pavement forever into the never.

No peeking.

Our eyes might widen like watching an artist reveal his soul onto canvas as easy as blood pumps to our hearts. 

We might see the river connect the pavement to our dying hiding place.

We might believe that the fresh water may rain upon our souls and illuminate our breaths.

The numbers are futile.

I've screamed them a thousand times, and given up to whispering your name. 

Yelping to just peek. 

Just a little.

See with your fingers trembling forward and backwards at the same time. 

One hand for the ones left behind, and the other for ones you will touch in the future. 

Cause ready or not, we should all come together.

For Better or For Worse

We ache for passion in our lives.
The strike of a match to feel transcendent beauty dance to the beat inside.
To look inside the box is futile.
Captivation there has already burned and left us.
Is it best to turn our eyes toward the Bic?
It may dance the same way. Longer even.
But maybe just the pressure of the thumb to ignite the one thing each being looks for but never finds is just too easy.
Maybe for worse, it burns to bright and too long for the feeling to really unlock the true potency of this feeling.
Maybe this question is best answered with a Zippo?
The flame sways with the same amount of delicacy, but it burns quicker.
In the worse case, it does toughen our hide to actually unleash the flame.
It even requires a toll of pain and getting used to the burn to truly capture it.
Our aches deceive us.
It's true that the future is paved with light and flames eternal, but that path was started with a simple stick.
What if, for a moment, we glanced back into the box.
Strike one more match.
Watch the fire once more.
It dances and sways with every pump of our hearts.
The soul escapes if only for a moment into true tranquil and existential eloquence.
The aroma makes our blood boil with nostalgia of every time we were lit.
Then, as the song ends and the flicker fades, remains the box.
A box filled with constant sparks of the curious thing we would all burn for just to see burn again.
For better or for worse is an interesting phrase.
New doesn't mean either, but it does tend to blindfold us from the dance waiting to be seen each day.
For better or for worse, always look back to where you've once been, and always remember the best as if it'll never be in front of you again.
For better or for worse, flip open your match cover and see that there are always more sparks to escape through because they come from a story. From you.
For better or worse, love every moment your heart was ignited, and your soul elevated higher than God himself.
The people and things that allows us to find that in ourselves is such a rare commodity that some never find.
They make you better, and when the worst finds you, grip tight.
Spark again.

Tick,Tick

Where does the time go?
Spinning around the dials.
Tick,tick goes the time bomb. The nothingness. The trials.
My eyes are fixed upon those ambiguous edges that move like lies from our lips as we watch the world burn from our ledges.
One second at a time, but we move as sludge.

Where has the time gone?
Picking  flowers in the beauty of the day.
Before anything mattered aside from how our bodies swayed in the winds, or before we could comprehend the ways that life made us gasp for air.
The space in our lives where the grip of a hand meant we were apart of someone. Something. A monument bigger than ourselves. A Goliath that cradles our innocence with soft tones and gentle glares.

Where did the minutes go?
Those sixty ticks that stopped in thin air.
My blood  startled by Medusa's stare.
Freezing my life while watching that heart beat out of those mirrors of beauty as our lips touch for the first time.
Before blemishes of embarrassment relinquished themselves from our skin, or even before we have no cares in the world more than what sounded good right in that moment.

Have the seconds eluded us?
The morsels of being that define us.
Those simple answers that construct the architecture of the future. "yes, no, I do, I can't, I won't".
One blink and it's gone to dust.
The clock mesmerizes me.
How few of those ticks actually mattered.
Actually gave the muscle in my chest a reason to pit-patter for something real.
Our lives become echos of that tick as steal runs systematically over numbers.

Just listen...
Those moments crash into your soul.
Filling every hole, or fuzzy patch of your memory with flowers, that grip of that hand, or the taste of those glorious lips.
Those hips swaying in the wind without a care in the universe.
The "yes, no, I do, I can't, and I won'ts".
Breath it in.
Make your clock worth it.
When the reaper calls, that clock on the wall will tick, tick into the future.
Will you?

The Fever

A silver pelt encompasses the wide, empty sky.
A flash through the nerves, a fever catches us.
Creeping through the veins methodically.
Boiling the blood eagerly.
Filling the heart with the pain of one-thousand martyrs delicately.
As sweat pours, it will leave.
Time heals all.
The breath taken each second becomes relentless hurricanes of doubt to the soul.
Every memory begin their assassination attempts.
Every feeling or emotion begin to dive out of their ducts as their only escape.
The eyes generate clouds of agony as the moment before dawn draws near.
Something within the self forces the mind's attention upwards with no reason, as a single spot from that pelt shoots through its reality.
Dawn is here and the fever begins to let go.
The captives in the heart set free.
The memories halt to let this day be seen.
The day that every affliction has become apart of this entity.
That every night we've ever felt this fever was for something greater then ourselves.
The day after the torturous nights of waiting for your star to flash across the night sky, so you never have to survive the fever again.

The Captivity of Hope

Unspeakable sounds.
Unknowable movements.
Trapped in calamity that drowns my heart from improvement.

It is you I see.

Essence drains from every bone.
Transcendent beauty in every tone.

It is you I crave.

Be sure that when the fire is dead and gone that you were not transparent.
Let your light be as covalent  as air.
I may see you, or crave you, but you may never come.

The Light Leads The Way

Only the burning wick leads the way.

One flickering light guiding an voyage to the end.

Ominously dancing above the heads of men as wax drips upon the holders brow.

Ordinary in every part of its being, but obliviously these men will defend.

Trekking furiously; every second counts.

Their path? For righteousness as their time sheds to the ground.
The flame grows dim and some men begin to air their doubts.

Cannot turn back, but afraid that with all their energy, nothing will be found.

Just a few obstacles left between them and glory as the last morsel of guidance is melted.

Swallowed by darkness is the fate for these men.

Lost, as their lives dripped away to never be seen again.

Robotic

Left to fend for its self.

A wrench in the gears leaves an empty vessel.

Stuck in its needed position; to resilient to help.

All systems shutting down; no fighting this inevitable outcome to settle.

The sun begins to settle.

The lights behind its eyes begin to fade.

As memory recalls, standards were not met.

This is't the end of this machine; not why it was made.

The sun beams on this creation as the oil of life is dribbled upon its limbs.

The power of hope begins to pulse through its empty shell.

Forgiveness and punishment now run the internal system; creating its own understanding of fate and sins.

Compassion and sorrow fill its processor, allowing all emotion to prevail.

Pride breaks this assumed pose and allows this machine to march to its own beat.

Love seeps to the head sockets, giving the glow back to this machines eyes.

The machine works and the blueprints have been ignored; every sheet.

"I AM ALIVE"

Dreams

Drifting from reality.

My eyes roll into the back of my head and I levitate to where I can feel the clouds underneath my feet.

I stand to subdue curiosity.

Arouse to stand above the world and watch the sun burn without an end or means of defeat.

With beauty and mercy, clouds surpass me.

With majesty and intensity, the world burns below me.

My mind aches for the beauty just shown, but as my feet seep into the clouds, my heart aches because no matter what my eyes see, In this premonition I will always float alone.

Pulled back to reality.

My eyes open and adjust to your face.

Your eyes collide with mine and the vision I just saw instantly erased.

Dreams are beautiful in moments, but for an eternity would become a nightmare.

Chasing your dreams back to reality is true paradise, and when your eyes hit mine; i'm already there.

Hand Prints

Moving in closer.

Gasping for air since you take mine away.

Our hands collide with the intensity of a thousand suns.

hearts burning out of our chests; leaving nothing to say.

Fingers drifting up my arms.

Each spot touching glowing with passion.

Your hands, making their way to put my lips in your palm.

Every time you drift away, each pore of mine aching for the same satisfaction.

Your hand prints are here.

They each glow differently, and don't reveal your identity, but they belong to you.

I long for the day my prints shine so clear.

you've left your mark on me in so many ways, and they all shine so true.

Stars

Stars.
Burning so bright.
Making him think of that spirit that makes him burn just right.

A moment of clarity; without plight.

Only the emptiness from the other half that completes him on this night.

Stars.

Glimmering so beautifully.

Showing her a world without cruelty and fills her mind with the thought of "I wonder if he thinks of me?"

A moment of clarity; without uncertainty.

Only the coldness and longing for the warmth from his arms, love, and sympathy.

A flash across his eyes and and for a moment he's whole.

A flash across her eyes and for a moment the warmth she wanted even covers her soul.

Eyes close, wishes made, but this one has to be for the future, and it will come true.

Hearts and minds connected, writing in the stars "the stars are so beautiful, but i'll change them for you."

Road Signs

Our engines throttle.

A new light before our eyes, but we aren't moving.

Innocents completely in tact. Our pur so soothing.

Just spirit. No hurtles.

Infancy in the rear view. Now we're going twenty.

Help with directions still needed.

Our maintenance minimal, and our worries? Deleted

more and more stops pass, but the road ahead? Plenty

Childhood gone in a flash, so we can't help but speed.

completely lost, and too stubborn to ask for help.

It's the darkness that compels us now; letting our engines melt.

Trying so hard to stand out. Desperately needing to be seen.

Before we find out way back to the right road we go on detours that we never wished for.

Driving with lights off in a world we cannot see.

Chaining ourselves down with indulgences, but we just want to be free.

So many road signs are ahead, but the next ones reads "me".

We stop at the closest mile marker to wonder if this path we're on is that on which we were supposed to be.

Regretting what we've done, and things we didn't, but could of seen.

Our engine throttles, but now it burns with a confidence so red.

"We left on our own, got lost, but found ourselves. Forget the road signs of the past. The only ones that matter now are the ones ahead."

Support

Foundation withers away.

With each step our house grows weaker.

As time moves on support beams decay.

With each breath the future becomes bleaker.

But say one night you decide to kick one beam down.

Will our card house fall? Crash into the ground?

With one mistake; one bad decision. will our boat sink and we drown?

There are very few support beams in the houses we make.

This time make them with metal.

One footstep across the world can cause your foundation to break.

Leaving one person holding the flower as it sheds it's last pedal.

So ask yourself that night "what happens if I kick this beam down?"

You'll have your answer before the king hits the ground.

The Combination

Our seconds running dry with each passing breath.
Searching for the answer.

Thoughts with every rotation of the wheel. Is it pain, agony, or death?

Searching for the truth.

Grasped tightly in my hand to never be let go.

Success, Companionship, Morality?

Each guess makes sense, but every time life says no.

Fear, Honor, Clarity?

The lock to our dreams can be cracked.

Multiple turns of the wheel, but I know this to be true.

Most of it found, but there is one more wall to get passed.

Passion, Love, but for this last one I didn't have a clue.

Until I took my eyes off what was given and the metal sprung from being subdued.

I dazed off in those eyes and I found my truth.

The missing piece to the combination

Passion, Love, and You.

Free

A lost and deserted path never trekked.
The boy, one foot after another, trying to find his way home.
All alone for straying off the path. The adventure wanted, not met.
A green canvas paints the sky and no light is shown.

Marched on and on for days and nights.
Growing weaker and weaker with each breath.
Searching and searching and finally a beam of light!
The beacon of hope. Sun and body met.

Dazing up in the sky. Overwhelmed by fear.
To the left. To the right nothing there, but blue and white.
An echoing call and the sun disappeared.
Moving in circles. the shadow is in flight.

The heavenly creature soars high from the clouds and low to the top of every tree.
One foot at a time the boy got lost, but now the man sees.
" To you I'm lost, and I may never make it back home, but I am free. I can see the path perfectly. It's the one the bird takes high above the trees. The one I take with my hands together, bowed to my knees. It's the path i choose for me!"

More lost and deserted paths to never be trekked.
One foot after the other, more of us will be lost.
But the bird is better free then kept.
The main trail is safer, but our way is worth the cost.

Fireworks

A loaded barrel awaits.
Sitting, waiting to be released.
The hunger inside to be seen inside, aches.
What's really there, wrongly perceived.

In the shell lies beauty and grace.
A fuse for passion waiting to be ignited.
Moments, I see the greatest beauty. Then it's gone without a trace.
Disappeared through the smoke. waiting for a new flash to be sighted.

I long for this fuse to be lit.
shell falls, spirit burning so bright! so delighted.
One night, this beauty will fill the sky. every bit.
I envy the torch that sets a flame to it.

The Show

The stage, pitch black. Actors take a bow.
The anticipated ending.
The plot, never thickening. Every role given without sweat on their brow.
The audience, spinning.

Exit stage on the left.
Another show on any other day.
A new role, or character, but the real character never kept.
Another script. More predetermined lines to say.

Your poise, steady. Voice without quiver.
Your aim, straight for the audience's heart.
Your persona gone, so this role is not that hard to deliver.
Your repetition almost makes it a work of art.

Enter stage on the right.
Another show. Just this one is today.
Your audience sees right through you. Script out of sight.
"Straight from the heart this time" the director says. No more lines to say.

The Resistance

"My reality just set in".
Time and space collide.
"So many people I can't abandon".
The heart as his guide.

The world he watches starts to crumble.
The specks of a new world shinning through.
His posture so solid. No chance to stumble.
He walks alone on this path without anyone to turn to.

The resistance is approaching.
Can you feel it?
It's coming through the smog of life in which we are choking.
To a soul losing grip.

From a universe who's colors change with every motion.
From settled hearts, or born from commotion.
The resistance is here, and it's over due.
Love is what we are.
The resistance is you.

Passion

There are so many words unspoken.
On this paper is where my heart lay broken.
Blinded.
Words that take your breath away.
I can't find them.
Words that should be proclaimed to you everyday.
Her grasp tightens with each line.
Joy, or disgust. He needs a sign.
Instead, her eyes tangled with his for the right time.
A picture of hope shined in his eye.
Her lips were introduced to his as she was saying goodbye.
From her grasp, his broken heart set sail.
Hit by a flame where insecurity and deceit fell.
Tears for the endearment he wished to transpire.
But yet, something remarkable just above the ashes.
No bump, nor scratches. Just his heart set on fire.

Perception

Hidden in the dirt.
glimmer so faint.
Not touched with an ounce of hurt.
Bound, tortured, and smothered in constraint.

Hidden in the dirt.
Glimmer so attractive.
Without thy hand inert.
"for now with me will it be active".

Nails dig into the earth around it.
Fingers grazed by another.
"I need to have it!"
"No, you just want something to smother".

"Are eyes met at that gem.
But for two different reasons.
I would let it fly high, and soar with the wind.
And you just want a glimmer that goes with the season".

Renewal

Can you see it?
The trees, as still as the ocean.
The earth sits.
But, white and gray stay in motion.
This taste upon my lip.
Darkness, in front of my eyes.
A new sensation with each shift.
Renewal, just in disguise.
Sounds from one direction
and now, there's light.
The smell beyond conception.
The view, takes away strife.
"Can you see it?" she said.
"Wait...There's more"
"I don't see it. I feel it." he said.
So the rain began to pour.

Clarity

The dawn of the day hit the horizon.
Something obstructs this site.
Could it be the calamity of more opinion?
The smell of another confrontation or plight?
Vision gets hazier as the day grows older.
This mist of a new floats above the earth.
Is this the day the heart grows colder?
The day time shows its worth?
These clouds sit at my feet.
No sign of resilience or feeling.
Will this be when I can march to my own beat?
The time truth begins its revealing?
These questions disperse.
The footprints of the future is what's looked upon.
The footprints of the past have lost their curse.
Within the air around me the fog is gone.

The Never Forgiving

The hourglass sits sideways.
On the night your relationships begin to decay.
On the driveway where you left your parents in a haze, or deep in the ground where a loved ones body lays.
Time has stopped for you with the words " there will always be other days".
The glass begins to roll and a grain goes by.
Hesitation, selfishness, and fear are the only things lurking inside.
now the back is turned to the things that should catch your eye. Do you ever ask yourself for a reason to be scared or why? Well your in luck. Since your still turned around, your in for a surprise because everything changes with the blink of an eye.
Nothing stops time as it rolls of our tables and its structure breaks. Life is too short for your excuses or fears of disgrace. Hold on to the time you have because there's none to waste because time does not care about your mistakes or who it takes.
Treasure everything you have forever and beyond because your hourglass is on the roll and you don't want to blink and it all be gone.

What's Left Now

This sand lays loose, but together in my hand.
Nothing can stop us.
"I want to grip it harder. It''s to free for me to stand".
Sand to dust.
The particles begin to fall back to the earth as each finger curls.
There goes understanding and passion.
Pressure pushing the sand out so tight my hand begins to burn.
There goes caring and fatal attraction.
We are slipping away one morsel at a time and now all that's left is bad, but by the time I decide to open my hand, I'll only see the sand i lost and the relationship I never had.

Clay

A moist substance between my fingers. An astronaut, politician, a singer?
I ball it in my palms and let it slide onto the table. Will this raw talent take the shape in which it's able?
Like the tide, my hands soothe this substance every now and again. Will its friends stay with him or just not know where to begin?
Time passes and new features are added everyday. "Soon i'll think about its future" I'd say.
They listened, so soon the clay dried and to me turned out to be grand. "You put the future in my hands, so I made a man"

Only the Floor Changed

The darkness of the day settled again. He sat there waiting for the lights of the den to dim. Blood rushing to his face as he slithers across the room. "You don't know what it's like, but you will soon". A tingle up his his spine as retribution approaches. Graceful movements towards his freedom like the flames of lit torches. Slow and steady as his fingers constrict the blade. "hold still brother. Soon your guilt and my pain will fade". Flashes of red cover their eyes as a life comes crashing down. His body so frantic as ever for what he felt was so profound. The only thing that changed was the color of the ground. The coward slithered away without comfort or even a remorseful sound. Instead he poured guilt into a pool of blame that would soon make him drown. If it's blame you use, then it's nothing you'll find. It might feel good now, but only for as long as you can stand to hide. Just take a look at yourself and get back on track because revenge is for the cowards who run from themselves and never look back.

Don't Stop

"Don't Stop" he says.
Your worlds crashing. He has no idea what's happening, but he tells me to keep hacking?
Don't Stop
A hurricane of thoughts through my mind.They are not good, or fine, but they're mine and I wish to keep them confined.
Don't Stop
This storm is caged in my mind. I feel like I'm doing time. I'm going crazy inside, but somehow how this phrase makes me feel fine for the time.
Don't Stop
I just wanna quit. There will be no fit. I'm just tired of it, but I'm just going to bottle it up till it hits the tip.
Don't Stop
Just face it, replace it, and find a way to embrace it. Our lives our lived on shoelaces, and you can't handle looking at anymore concerned faces. Don't stop, don't stop, and don't forget your traces. Don't stop believing and you'll be the one who makes it.

And the Thunder Rolls

The splatter against everything. The calamity of light and sound.Nothing is the same but refuge can be found.
Through the darkness, explosions will be seen. A crash cuts through the air. One that can't be fathomed, or gleaned. It's beautiful, and a fiend, but if it isn't seen it cant fulfill its purpose or its dreams.
Now it's faded and all that's left is the roar. You can leave your refuge, dance in the rain, and be scared no more.

The Lighthouse

On this voyage of thick and blue, I find myself not knowing my destination; not a clue.
I've hit waves, tsunamis, and hurricanes and the one thing I could always see clearly was you.
without a compass, or map I let the wind push me where it wants me. I wonder when the next your beam of light will bring me to safety.
Days and nights pass and finally land appears. The sun beams warm my face, but it won't be untill nightfall when I place my feet on its piers.
The sun falls as i follow the tide. I turn to land and the beam of light warms me inside. "I'm home. no more running. nowhere els to hide."

Make Your Move

"Up two spaces"
The front line marches without leaving any traces.
This side against that side; tick goes the clock. When you are put between a rock and a hard place do you give it all you've got?
Straight ahead or up and around, which placement do you take? We don't forgive or forget just wait until the landscape becomes our destructive fate.
Ride your horse as far as you can or strike high from your towers. The only stipulations given is seek and devour.
Battle strategies, what does it all mean? Are you going to choose wisely when your in check?
Your seconds slip away like a thief in the night, but when you tap out was the move made right?
King vs. Queen; mind vs. trap. Not knowing where they've been, pawns falling at the tip of a hat.
A throbbing beat from your chest as you find yourself running from fate. You can cry, plea, and rant to th board, but your only response will be "check and mate."

The Eternal Flower

Like a sun ray breaking the horizon, your touch gives hope. In the midst of winter, your delicate stare imbues me with the warmest coat.
The patience we are holding sets the soul on fire, but the game we play creates unspeakable, unknowable desire.
Now the fires burning and it makes your touch home and your words erase my mind and sends me to a paradise to which I'm prone.
Days, months, and years will pass, but none touches the fire or your beauty. Shackled and chained to your voice and yet my mind still grants you purity.
Arguments, fights, and and late nights that lead to flowers to stop the dread, but the one thing that will never change is the flower we've grown will never be dead.

Crash

People Crash.
Abruptly, inevitably, and it cause us to clash.
Our walls our built , but yet we think our hands are as smooth as silk.
People Crash.
Unnoticed connections made everyday because our cover predetermines our man made of clay.
People Crash.
We feel our hands and find rocks, so now we wonder what tools are needed to make the walls drop.
People Crash.