College Applications

A race to the top with no clear ending
the student stays ahead purely through bending
– almost – to that breaking point
his nerves and sanity tested or proved?
by the burning light inside, so cruel
(identity finds itself in failure)
but all he can do now is climb
is it worth the sweat to slide down?
a safety net for the profound?
or can it not be just as easily done
on flat land, one footstep by one
Who can say what that peak does,
friends, thoughts, or futures secured
perhaps those who never incline their plane
will never taste any air so pure
as that which one has died for.

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The Two Year Mark

bristles poke with fluidity
inside and out of the lid that he
put once over this insane equilibrium
of lustful dreams and sandy fun
ever restless, she adorns the windowsill
smooth legs in winter - all for nill
it's a crooked smile that lingers now
fixating on the sweaty brow
above the lady's tearful gasp

as the cold night beckons with a rasp
and two dance around each other like magnets
his bliss grows cracked and stagnant
rough hands caress pixelated skin
golden summer wanes thin
sedentary adventure
one is his, the other hers
together someone will find out
and they will both be locked away

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People preach
there are crossroads in life

times we must choose – and they lie

every breath is an action
every second that I do not die
but Where to go next
the blind driver is befuddled

should he go? or should I stay?
Home is always far away
maybe he’s my chance to change that

Yet all I’ve ever known is Tomorrow and There
am I wrong in who I am? won’t tell me where I’m from
it won’t help me pack my things

I don’t want a passport with empty pages
I want a history that sings
of escape and loss and wings

of love throughout the ages

of princesses

and Kings




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The Circle Maze


I want to know everything
there is to know

Why the wind blows
and rivers flow
and why the birds cry
and why I’m shy around stages and sigh

you want to know too?
so we can flip through the perilous pages
cutting our thumbs on letters
and burning our eyes

while the sun mysteriously smiles

Maybe it’s not a futile chase
if the ghost turns into a face

If one of us wins the lottery, will she explain it to us?
Will she share – if she can?
the reason why we exist as man?

will we hope for what tomorrow brings
if we can’t begin to understand

impossible – solve the equation for x
not by it
one part of  a hole – struggling
getting high enough for the view
to see what we forever thought we knew

but there’s no breath among the stars

no answer in the garden

no feelings in the truth

desperate we turn around the beauty
asking – why – is it necessary
in this sedative prison

the crazed man finds the answer in a prophet
the lucky ones in a patent office
the rest of us have to bear the humiliation of
finding truths in wooden coffins




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The News


He hears the information
in denial, in confusion,
the world cannot exist where this is true;
the anomaly must be just passing through.

A joke, a ploy, a severed limb waved in circles by a clown.
Time is close enough he could turn around,
go back to before, it's so close -
five minutes ago!

Quick reverse, fervent dissent 
cannot stop the meaning lent
to small words given in big numbers.
Understanding dawns - he stumbles.

Yesterday was unexciting,
aside Today, desperately enticing,
beautiful, stunning, and serene.
A lost memory, forming on his brow in a sheen.

Acceptance breaks and hope flies away,
lost on the whispered sounds of May.
Life is gone and in its place
stands a vast terrible empty space.

The world was not what he thought,
not anymore wrought
in possibilities and future tenses,
no more Hopes as defenses.

He needs to reevaluate
where he was and where to take
the swirling self of consciousness
now in personal apocalypse.

That will come with later's feelings;
now he stares at a white ceiling
cursing the day he was born and
rejecting his new form.

His mind circles endlessly
a sigh to a scream to a thousand tears
Fear at the future
and pain at the sutures.

Dawn will rise another day
but now his hours fill with rage,
his minutes with ragged breaths
and his seconds with little deaths.

One afternoon he will learn
to stretch and breath and smile and yearn,
but for now -
he just has to remember how.




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A Long Wait

Balancing on the edge
the precipice calls
sweat drips down
anticipation of forever’s tomorrow

Trembling, you awaken the muscles,
the energy for the step forward

The bright light burns
looking forward pains and sears
unstable and confused, senses careen

together, chaos dwells in the mind
as the heart beats faster
rushing sounds grow louder

and you decide
yes, I will

I will re-watch
the first four seasons of Game of Thrones

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