I can smell him on my sheets
      I can taste him in my dreams
             I can still feel every inch where he's touched me
I hear his laughter echoing in the walls
             I can still see him in all these pictures I saved for
           memories

But this bed is bare
My dream's a nightmare
       I can't hear
             His laughter
       He's not near
             Enough to touch
My eyes are blinded by tears
He's killed my senses,  
      I'm no longer aware

Everything around me,  slowly fading away
His face, his scent, his laughter,  his touch
Maybe I'll just pop a few pills and sleep away the day
At least he's in my nightmares, the pain of reality is too much

there is no need to defy gravity
when all I want is to define it
as something that pulls you closer to me
and me closer to you
an inward force of the both of us
that the gods of physics
wrote into our chromosomes
You can be the sun and moon
and you can orbit 'round me
and me 'round you

Don't classify us
or put us into boxes
or order us
We are not socks
There are infinite paths
we may choose
We have the wisdom of the ancients
and the universe
and can literally move mountains
We are meant for better things
because we are made of stardust

At the corner, a girl child from the UK
another soft drink she chugged
Whilst the girl woman in the Sudan,
the heavy *** on head she lugged
She walked eight miles, braving ****,
to fetch unclean water from the well
Whilst in the UK, the girl bought designer clothes
to make her feel just swell

God where are the waters of life?
To end their strife

At the mall, the boy child ate his third Hershey bar
In Malawi the boy man’s
stomach had extended too far
Malnutrition had sealed his fate


God where is the cereal?
To make their lives non-ephemeral

Down under, the son celebrated with family,
presents and cake
his father’s 100th milestone
Whilst in war torn Syria, a son, now orphan
buried his young murdered father,
in ground without a gravestone


God when will the fighting cease?
To give them a chance of peace


Is this God’s confusion?
That though we are all made the same,
some people their innocence shattered
are headed for a terrifying fate
whilst others fully satiated and secure,
sip their drinks, polish off and request another plate
Or does God if he exists
not love the weak and oppressed?

I never knew you felt that way.
I wouldn't of expected it from someone like you.
Someone as beautiful and delicate like you.
I never knew.

But **** I wish I did.

On these blank pages is where I write my story.
It has some sad moments, but my story is a happy story.
I grew up without a father figure there to guide me.
No man to say "Good job son" or play catch with me on Sundays.
I grew up large, literally.
I've always been a bit on the heavy side.
I like to think of it as: "God had too many ingredients to include when making me, so he threw them all in anyways."
But I think he included too many tablespoons of self-disappointment.
I lack self-confidence in myself to accomplish even the littlest task.
I've always felt embarrassed in situations around "cool" people that I always fumble and botch what I'm doing.
I've never been with a woman.
I think they all were just made to avoid me but I know that's not the case.
As much as I may "avoid" them I hate it.
I desperately want to talk to a girl, but I lack the words to say.
And even when I find the words to say, they all come flying back at me eventually.
"Women" is something I think I'll never understand fully or even get, unless I pretend to be a Christian on Christian Mingle.
Or Farmer on Farmer's Only.
But I digress.
Even though I consider myself to be a nice guy, people still hate me.
I have no idea why, but they do.
It spreads like wildfire around me.
People snicker here and people snicker there.
It drives me insane.
Life drives me insane.
My lack of confidence drives me insane.
I just want to stand and flip this table onto the ground.
And sometimes I want to shout "*******" and "this is hell."
I just want to stand and start a revolution.
Tell people how I really am.
Kiss the girl I like.
Say "**** it" to the rest of the world.
Become someone who matters.
I just want to stand and scream, but I don't.
I just sit back down at this table, typing on this computer.
I'm surrounded by friends and tables.
I look around the room at all these people going about their lives and their days.
I just refocus back on this blank page, where I write my story.
It has some sad moments,
But my story is a happy story.

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.