I know you can't hear me -
no one ever can.

That's why I scatter my thoughts,
comments, and ideas all over my world
for the few people who actually care
to find at their own leisure. I know you -
you are genuinely curious, that's why you
have found my every physical hiding place
and mental cottages and libraries
holding the only known dictionaries of
my own special languages. I know you -
you have already realized that most of this
is meant for a specific little group of people
who don't even try to understand
what I am doing. Not the way you do at least.

I know you can't hear me -
no one ever can.

That's why this will wait here for years
and years, looked at by hundreds -
maybe even thousands of people none of whom
will quite get it and then you will go scrolling through
trying to catch up on what you missed
when you refused to care because it just hurt you -
I like to say I know you, but the sad truth is
I only ever knew you and that has long since ended.

I know you can't hear me -
no one ever can.

"Hey ***,
im in a place with basically no
internet connection.
just wanted to let you know
that im alright
and miss you.

ill keep in touch,"
you wrote to me not long
before you forgot
to come home again.

But you don't have to be here
to be the person you promised to be.

"If the world were ending tomorrow
I'd make it a point to come
and try to save you," I remember
you saying when I started that fight
and screamed, "NO! You don't!
You don't care! That's the problem!"

then threw my pen at the wall
and shut my computer so hard that
my brother could hear it
on the other end of the house.

But I didn't mean to fight you,
to push you away when I just wanted
you closer than you were.

"only 1087 painfully long days left
i would like to see you, really see you,
i would like to be with you somewhere,
anywhere... so it is true -
they are painfully long days," I once wrote
for you thinking you'd really be
my knight in shining armor

coming to save me from my own prison.
Little did I know you couldn't even
save yourself. I had no idea that you were
all talk and no walk. Now you're gone
and sometimes I forget that I'm supposed to
forget you. . .

You don't have to be here
to be the person you promised to be.

So please come home soon?

Being with you is like dancing on water
inside the darkened theatre of death
like playing the part of a college student
just trying to get through initiation
with some stupid frat or sorority
I know I don't belong in, but join anyway
just to shut my parents up again.

It's like playing with money in the middle
of the busy streets found in places like
London and New York, but of course you -
you wouldn't understand an analogy like that;
you've never been anywhere have you love?

'Cause you're just another caged songbird
singing for someone else's freedom
instead of your own cause that's what lovers do
when they're in love. But I have to say,

I love being with you - it's like dancing on water
and playing with money; watching strangers
turn their heads in awe and screaming
words they don't even agree with in some kind of
falsified disgust because that's what happens
in death's theatre and on the busy streets of
places way too big for their own good.

It's something so unique,
something completely different from everything else
I've ever known and I think it's time you knew that.

I know you've been through it all before,
too afraid to admit that you loved and lost
forgetting that only the brave survive.

Someone was here long before me,
they took your strengths and poked holes
in them while smelting your insecurities
into permanent scars and doubts. That's
when you put your heart in storage

before the beginning of the world's second end
in hope someone new (someone like me)
would come along and take you for a walk
in the clouds holding your hand the way
it's thought that angels will when Time comes
to pull you away from your last page.

I know you've been through it all before,
you know what it's like to shatter and fall
but not everyone is another pirate

taking advantage of the rare
golden hearted seraphim of the myth
(you and your kind). So please, Darling,

please, let me love you.

"Where would we be if I hadn't thrown my halo off the clouds
and given my wings away before I jumped down?

The ash won't wash away from my hands
nor will the dirt on my face and it feels like the cuts will never heal
because the previous scars still haven't begun to fade.
It's like the night we watched the sky fall down
and counted the stars as they began to die
when everything went black and the smoke continued to rise. "
you thought to yourself as you walked around exploring your new town.

"Oh angel, why was it always so hard to breathe whenever you were around?
Aren't you supposed to take my hand and hold my heart,
make everything okay as we watch the world around us fall apart?"
I wondered night after night from the safety of my room
dancing in the chaos of simple songs with newly weighted lyrics.

Then days passed and we got further and further away from each other.
You ran in one direction and I followed in the wrong one.
Until someone saw the pain in your eyes and asked,
"Where has your sinner gone? You need them to balance out your purity.
Even angel's should know that's the way 'God' has you play the game,"
which left you broken on the sidewalk asking why
the swallows dance above the sun and where we would be

without all the delirium.





Oh angel, I thought breathing was difficult when you were here,
only now do I understand how completely impossible it was

before.

Someday you are going to understand
what it's like to wake up to pure cream ghosts
and ebony shadows sleeping next to you
in your bed when you thought you were alone.

You'll get up and throw a T-shirt on,
stumble into the kitchen and start the coffee,
pull a mug from the shelf and rinse it out
notice that's got a plum tone to it -

refreshing from the scene of everything
and nothing with nothing on either side.

Someday you are going to understand
the pain of life surrounded by stark whites
and soulless blacks with your only joy
coming from the passionate purples dancing

across the stage every now and again
knowing they're all you have keeping you
from  j
...........u
. . . . . . m
...............p
. . . . . . . . . i
...................n
. . . . . . . . . . . g.

Old Bones
planted
in a
crooked
straight line
watered
with the tears
of Sycamore
trees,
headstones
bend
under the
weight
of time
letters slowly
falling like
leaves