I don't need to be here.
If you want to know me.
Just go read everything I've ever written.
You'll figure out who I was.
Eventually.

Don't bother reading between the lines.
I'm not there.
I'm staring into the sun.
Between the "I" and the .
I'm resting.

If y’all could give me control
Of time and space
I promise to only fold it one time
I swear I won’t mess it up
Please
It’s just that
I’ve been hurting a lot lately
And if I could just hold her again

The moonlight creeps through my garden like a white tiger on the hunt.
It caresses the bench where you used to sit.
Come morning these trees will burst into flames of crimson, sunflower, and oranges.
I’d like to be able to imagine you there and when.
Add it to the list of things I’d like.

My pen is a wee bit cold, so I don’t think that I have long.
And since I can’t write you a poem,
I thought you might fancy a song.

It’s about a girl born with no hands and the boy she couldn’t hold.
The boy was deaf and blind, it’s just how the story’s told.

She’d wrap her arms around him, and thump his back with her stubs.
He’d screech in terror and find a way to run into some shrubs.

Sometimes you’d see him feeding her at the ice cream shoppe.
Just jabbing her face with a spoon while she cried and screamed “just stop”.

For Christmas he bought her gloves and she got him a dog.
It fell asleep around the fire and he mistook it for a log.

What baffled a lot of folks, is that their names were Betty and Stan.
For the love a soft and supple goat, Betty was the man.

Word has it they got married, and Stan well she said their vows.
And Betty he just stood there, spouting random howls.

They live out in the woods now, their feetless kids play there in the mud.
When you try to talk to them, they just stare out into space and chew on their cud.

If I have no beliefs. No faith. Then I only have thoughts. Thoughts manufactured within a vessel of questionable integrity.

My understanding of reality is solely dependent on my minds interpretation of the world through external stimuli.
However.
I don’t quite trust my minds interpretations.
Sometimes I’m convinced that it has no idea what it’s doing and that it’s just making up **** as it goes along.
So.
Before you ask me if I love you.
You should know that I’m still not entirely convinced you’re not who or what you say you are.
You could just be a figment of my imagination.
Neither one of us can prove our existence to the other.
So.
What do I say?

Are you still there?
In the mist, where I left you.
Under a crumbling sky.
We were alone
And I couldn't understand why you were looking at me.
Wisps of fog march passed us.
Like an undead army from an ancient battle.
You sounded more frustrated than anything.
So I left you there.
I still think about you.
On those dewy mornings.
As the sun breaks over the trees and sets the world on fire.
I'll smile to myself
"the **** was I thinking?"

Let's pretend it never ends and instead goes on like this forever. That reality bends life suspends and we never again say never.
We could sit and watch the stars go out and just eat caramel.
Tickle your *** with a blade of grass and see what time would tell.

Ponder the moment that happened before and see who laughs out first.
Drink all the whiskey in Ireland if only to quench our thirst.
Dance with the waves though not with the bears but under an autumn moon.
And never or ever say never again because never would just be too soon.