chalk outlines.

when you open you eyes

and colors and images take shape

how real is it?

we speak of

"peripheral" vision

but that's all it is

everything.

everywhere.

mere interpretations

created both

consciously 

and subconsciously

through each "sense"

we possess...
i can't help but think
that we may as well

just be watching 
a "life-size" television...

masturbating...

smelling scented candles...

as our minds reach and search

for any similarity they can find

so we can better understand

our immediate surroundings

and attempt to make sense

of anything we can...

and life becomes
nothing more

then a simple story

that we continuously create
in our own minds

with all of our own unique

"identifications"

so...

is anything...

everything...

real?

or is it all just

our own

manufactured reality?

looking around,

all i see

hear

smell

even feel...

seem more and more
like simple

chalk outlines.

...

languages.

we speak

when there is nothing to say

should language be

so free?

we create our own dialects

and fold words like paper

just to keep our mouths running

just to keep out tongues loose

expression...

my,

how frustrating it can be

so much so

that speaking

isn't nearly enough

at times

we must even act out

the roots of our personalities...

to show you

to tell you

how i feel

what i want

my desire to know

what you see

what you want

how you feel

no matter how overwhelming

it gets

we keep on

trying to distinguish

extinguish

relinquish

every moment

we don't want to be

alone

we don't want to feel

alone

even when we wish

to be left alone

we search for release

we use every channel

that our bodies will allow

with our eyes

our tongues

even our fists at times...
though,

my favorite,

is love.

although it hurts the most

and cuts deeper than any knife

ever could

i'll take the payoff

any and every time.

yes, i want your attention

yes, i want your affection

and yes, i will bare my soul

to get the purest embrace

possible

this does not frighten me

to give this to you

my...

vulnerability.

because the kiss i crave from you

is the sweetest

when i know

that it's as real

as it can be

your skin against mine

is warmest

when i know

it's as true

as i can make it.

so i will use

this language of mine

this language all my own

and if i should be so free

then i will,

regardless

of it's price,

it's cost,

it's toll,

continue.

because,

very simply,

you

and i

are worth it.

the dance.

twisting and turning

we try

to perform

a dance

with our

wrenching and squirming

without a

brightside

there is no

darkside

even happiness

can grow stale

static

boring

yes...

even happiness

can become

unhappiness

we feel elation

while we rise

but...

we must first

and again

fall to pieces

it's not just

appreciation

it's far more

it's so deep inside

that it seems

more...

chemical

balance is impossible

when you are trying

to achieve it

but it is the way

of our lives

the scales tip

from side to side

simply

like we step

from our left foot

to our right

and denial

is futile

but we do it

all throughout

each story

each emotion

each episode

we want to

understand

we seek answers

yet we cannot even speak

the questions

because there are none

we want movement

yet we are always moving

and it's always

either too fast

or too slow

to attempt to steady one's self

takes so much time

and concentration

and then

just as the page seems to turn

the room spins again

the ground beneath us

tilts

and we are off camber

again

it helps

to realize

that this will always be

but it doesn't really solve

anything...

does it?

we are constantly moving 

because

we have no choice

it's not just the world

that won't wait

it's our own lives

try not to think...

you cannot

we're in a current

in which we can fight

or ride with

but

nonetheless

from day to day

moment to moment

it's all ups

and downs

and in-betweens

and there is nothing

you or i can do

to stop it

even the strongest

PMA

has very limited control

and it can make us feel

like nothing more

than mere vessels

like

leaves in the breeze

and

truthfully

that is all

we are

...

don't even.

opinions.

may as well

be facts

to you.

you believe,

so it's your

truth.

we speak so easily...

perhaps

too easily...

and we use tone

and body language

and volume

as if that is

proof...

proof that what we say

is real.

searching for validation.

the more people who relate,

the more true the words are,

yes?

but...

of course

that is nowhere near

accurate.

it still means nothing.

it still does not matter.

it's still bullshit.

just another ploy

to rise above where we stand.

it really doesn't work,

but we do it anyway.

i'm sick

and

i'm tired

of hearing your

"point"

just speak to me

unafraid

give me a little

humanity

and then

only then

will i really listen

and respect you

and your words.

but...

keep trying

to go over my head

and i will simply duck

because the truth

is a feeling,

a trust,

not a handful

of empty

words and 

expressions...

keep them.

save that breath

for breathing

it's hot enough here

already
...

ashes ashes.

pushing and pulling

never still

the walls are caving in

collapsing around you and i

leaving us exposed

to all that is

to be seen

heard

felt

we are prey

waiting to be

bitten

scratched

burned

frozen

ripped apart

and left as remains

no more breath

no more flowing of blood

except into the porous medium

below where we once stood

this world is tearing us apart

we fight

we try to hide

we do whatever we can

to stay alive

so far

though beaten

and broken

tomorrow came today

even when we knew

it would not

we were wrong

again

and i find myself singing

ashes

ashes

we all fall

down

...