punxsutawney phil has nothing on me
i see my shadow every day
not that great, not something to see
i wish i could hibernate my life away

Do not fall in love with a poet.
She will feed you galaxies
until you fall sick in her brown eyes.
Then, she'll steal the stars from your breaths,
pin them proudly to her chest,
and claim that she's the night.

And soon you'll miss blue skies,
and summer highlights in her curls.
And she'll ramble in her sleep,
say things she doesn't mean,
and write poems about
how she could never be the right girl.

But, when you think you've had enough,
her words will somehow pull you right back.
Because despite her moonlit dreams,
she's just what you need,
to fill up lonely blue lines
about all the things you lack.

Lately
I've tried
To gain some clarity
In my life
I even stopped writing
But odd strings of sentences
Still haunt me
And sleepless nights
Seem to be filled with
Endless thoughts
Of nonsense
Even dreams are
Jumbled puzzles
Of misdirection
And I just smile madly through it all

I try to catch my words like fireflies
and store them in a jar.
I cannot.
Whenever I lift the lid to speak again,
the jar talks to me...
And off they fly.

In the silence,
inspired thoughts
make pleas for their own release.
Within moments
they are captured by another,
no longer mine.

Anything but silence is futile
when it comes to liberating
the true meaning of my fireflies.