2014 - and all of the excess

Great highs and terrible lows…

the constant in 2014 has been more.

More productivity than any year prior

more violent outbursts

More empathy for the troubles of others

more mistakes made

More rumbling laughter from deep inside

more days spent longing

More inspiration 

more desperation

More people to remember 

more people to miss

2015 is coming 

so much to get done

Run for public office on the platform of a new 8 day week… 

four days on, four days off.

a common ground

I run to you when my heart is scared

I hide when my mind is cold

I miss the air when I can't breathe

I hate the way it feels on my skin

I am an open book

Far too graphic 

not enough pictures

I count the miles in a memory

I laugh at the thought of time

I long for salvation

I am at my worst unkind

I am an open book

Dog eared pages

hard on the spine

I fall bastardly in love with life

I hurt inside

I want and want and need to want

I stay inside

I am an open book

Sleeveless, untitled

resting on a shelf 

I am my mothers eyes

I am my fathers worried mind

I am a savage heart

I am all shapes of life and death

I am an open book

A smell that fills your belly

a sentence read again

a sentence read again.

An open letter to all of us

You do not understand the world around you... 

neither do I. 

This is not the byproduct of a lack of care, will or understanding… 

it is simply unattainable under our current conditions.

This culture of ours makes it impossible to feel comfortable with certainty…

deny your thoughts, for they simply raise too many questions.

A window becomes poetry when the other side is unattainable 

Forgo these notions of comfort, a cold shower on a hot day…

mistakes are made to be learned from.

Light a candle for it's convenience…

be aware of the fire it starts.

A liberated thinker is far from isolation…

but far too inconvenient.

Family becomes apathetic in the face of dishonesty

Nurture the uncomfortable mind for it has far more to draw from than ghosts and insecurity.

Tell yourself you are more than the product of your experiences…

you are their offspring.

The future remains unwritten yet it keeps us all in mind. 

Remember your love and ask it for forgiveness when you stray…

we are all in this together

and I miss you most of all.

What The Mirror Reflects (Page 2)

A thought arrives in the form of realization.

There is no truth to be found in an "unrelated Incident"

She was barefoot, dancing in the morning light breaking through the old window shade. Turning, shaking, free of all doubt, They would all be judged against this moment. I knew it then, even as it was happening, a rare moment of clarity for a thoughtful mind. I think I wanted to keep her there, forever frozen in time. She became a sculpture living under glass, preserved but out of reach.

I thought of Her as I stood outside her window waiting for something to happen, knowing full well that nothing would. They can not all give you what you need. Nothing is as freeing or dammed as knowing. 

Existence is now your favorite song passing by in a car driven by someone you will never experience, someone you will never know… unless you shop at the same supermarket. 

I miss all of what I couldn't see in the moment between the past and future of a memory. During the time in which it was "happening" I was thinking of myself, weren't you? There were never any roads, or forks to give the illusion of choice. A train grinding on it's track does not stop to enjoy the scenery.

What The Mirror Reflects (Page 1)

A thought rolls through my head as I sip the morning wine, 

nothing outstanding happens without incident. 

If she was there for the taking we could spend time ignoring the world. Days spent getting drunk, making art and fornicating shamelessly; as hedonistic as a Bohemians life could be. For now I live in the dream. Floating through each day as the view from the top of a staircase. I could tell you how I became this way but you wouldn't understand, no sane person living a life inclusive of expectation could. I suppose it would be best to start and the beginning, pass the middle and come to the end, but that would be expected… wouldn't it?

In purpose the mind is a gateway to life beyond death, capable of contemplating everything and nothing, the infinite universe contained inside a living being. Magic. Practical application leans towards self obsession and the nagging want disguised as need. I am no different in these matters. 

Lost in the thought of her smell I've missed my stop. Seven staircases will lead me upward to the ground, I feel the weight of her thick, beautiful hair with every step.I have turned her into the yearning, something pure, something not me.

I know that I will take her. I will kiss her short of breath and arch her back. She will fall into my arms and show me what her body needs. I will know beyond her smell, her taste, she will give me her fear and I will add it to my own. 

As I join the procession my thoughts travel inward. Why have I allowed myself to become this? I am a wretch, A still breath on the wind. Would the world at large ever remember the kindness in me as I twist the knife into an open wound? The faces around me seem content, no… resigned to the contradictions they support. I should feel liberated, I  don't, for after all the willingness I've shown to free my mind of the created concept of successful living I am still standing in line. 

Breath On The Wind

I have always felt a certain disconnect to the world around me. A nagging tug that wouldn't let me enjoy the moment for what it was, I can't out run it, can't erase it, I've just simply learned to just keep living. Just keep loving.Never being able to put my finger on what"it" was I came to the conclusion that "somethings missing". Two years ago I was informed that I should have had a brother, the details aren't important but the deed was done. Six years ago I should have had a son but the universe had other plans. It would be silly to say I wasn't aware that these moments affected me, I just didn't quite understand how much until this morning. The following are lyrics to a song that might be something, perhaps nothing at all. I just feel that it's important (especially in the face of the earths mighty ability to shake us off its back at a moments notice) that I share this honest moment of revelation.

Love in all things

danny axel  

letters to Gabriel 

I couldn't give you what you needed

guess the gods would not abide 

Can't find relief in this thought

It's hard to know you, only in my mind

You mother won't believe me

she doesn't want to feel me cry

it's getting harder to believe in love

the growing distance still divides

There's no  light

without your life

all this time just passing trains

there's no right

in my life 

until I dream and see your face

I always ask for forgiveness

I never let myself heal 

Judging by the look in her eye

she wishes none of this was real

Your father lays in sadness

He hopes to pass the time

praying for release in these words

from the shadows in the sky

There's no  light

without your life

all this time just passing trains

there's no right

in my life 

until I dream and see your face

I survive every night

I'm alive when she tries

I survive every night 

I survive 

when I turn out the light