& it was quiet, rain on windows and radio on low
then she turned down the volume and asked, "do you still believe in god?"

and i was stumped

do i believe in god, after it all?
after the hurricanes that broke down my house over and over again

and it was quiet again, as i turned the question over on my tongue like fine wine (even though i'm too poor for the good stuff)

and i do
i have to
i have to believe in god,
in the potential for salvation even though my sins paint my soul
in the potential for happiness that my boys couldn't find on earth
in the potential for painless forevers

i believe in god like i did santa: faith keeps him alive in my mind even if he's not real, because believing in him is easier than believing in a void

and so i said this, and she asked why and i said why and she asked, "are you sure?"

and i turned my head back to the road ahead of me, and let the miles drown me

There will come a day
When all of the colors fade
to grey
When all of the flowers
In the garden start to wilt
When everyday is cloudy.
The headlines hold names
Of kids you grew up playing kickball with
Being killed by people who thought
That one more drink wouldn’t do any harm.
People who thought that a party
Was more important than
Everyone else on the road.

Now,
We have a four year old boy whose mama
Won’t see him graduate preschool
We have an eighteen year old girl whose daddy
Won’t see her graduate high school.
We have teachers
Who don’t know how to educate
To a classroom full of students
Who have so many questions.

But the legal limit isn’t taught in textbooks.

This isn’t whether or not you feel
That the law applies to you.
This is life or death.
This is Russian Roulette with a bottle.
This is driving blindfolded
With the music on too loud.
This is a four year old boy
Who still doesn’t understand
What Heaven is.
This is an eighteen year old girl
Who’s wearing her graduation dress
To her father’s funeral.
The dress that her father helped her pick out.
He said,
“You know, sweetheart, I always loved you in black.”


This is crying for someone
You never met.
This is military homecomings or
Babies smiling for the first time.

Except in reverse.

This is military homecomings in a box.
This is babies crying for a mother
Who cannot comfort them.
This is empty spaces in a poem
Where words should be.
This is “I just saw them yesterday.”
This is “I’m sorry for your loss.”
This is...
not knowing what the right thing to say is.
She still had clothes in the washing machine.
He had a T-Time for next Thursday.
We had a dinner reservation next Friday.
This is knowing that he will never have a birthday again.
This was not something I was expecting
I mean, who would?
Photographs can’t capture a lifetime.
They may be worth a thousand words,
But you my dear are worth so much more.

My fate lies beside
Two parallel lines
Their trust is a disguise
Behind their yellow eyes
If I could let my mind drift
Would this metal beast take the hint
And sway me over the bridge
To let me sink into the abyss

We are vehicles
Constantly passing each other on the streets
Each containing its own world
Each with a different destination in mind
Sometimes we collide
Causing sparks to glint off of our metallic outer shells
Before propelling us in a different direction
Throwing us off course
We carry things and people with us
And when we cross paths with others our loads become either heavier or lighter
Sometimes we breakdown from lack of proper care
And need someone to put us back together
And get us running again
Why must we pass by each other so quickly?
When will we stop?

You live your life

by highway lights

Never knew anything different.

You live your life

by highway lights

Hands on the steering wheel,

eyes forward, safe,

seat belt unwillingly buckled by responsibility and pressure.

You live your life

By highway lights

Staring at walls

and aching to pull the wheel that way.

You live your life

By highway lights

Shooting stars in your eyes

and loneliness in your heart.

My head was in her lap.
Her friend was driving fast.
Too fast. Way too fast.
She wrapped her arms around me.
It was cold and late and I'm in a stranger's car.
No. I met him that morning. It's fine.
Oh god. Are we going to crash?
She hushed me.
Have I been shivering this whole time?
She laid her jacket over me as a makeshift blanket.
The car is still too fast.
The music is too loud and it's dark.
Am I dying? No it's fine. She's got me.
How long has it been since we left?
Oh ****, wasn't he drinking?
We're going to die. Why did I come with?
She tells him to slow down.
I somehow mutter out a sorry to him.
I'm laying in the backseat of a half-stranger's car.
The leather interior is sticking to me.
It's not as cold as it was before.
…
…
…
Am I still awake? I can't move.
Did I die? No, I still feel her there.
She's rubbing my back, I think.
I'm asleep. Wait am I? Yes.
I think so. It's okay.
We're at her house.
We made it.
I made it.
It's okay.

.
when I was little,
  i found that in a in a certain frame or light,
snow can look an awful lot like shooting stars.
so maybe the cold months aren't so bad,
and I hope you'll stay with me through the winter.
it's likely you'll seek solace in the storm outside,
in order to escape how cold i've grown to be.
it's not my fault.

some times
  i will want to drive in the middle of the night and watch the snowflakes rush at me
like so many misled embers and try to remember
  to save as many kisses for when it's warmer.
disregarding the fact
that shooting stars
are not stars,
that if I turned my headlights off i wouldn't feel guilty,
that you do not
love me.

i want you strapped in beside me
so I can remember to keep my eyes on the road,
and you can count every frozen anomaly for me
as they melt on the windshield, remind me later,
and i will quietly wish for each of them to have the same mass as a car
  or that we're traveling through space like they do in the movies.
it depends on the day.
it's not my fault.

but please don't speak.
don't speak of God or the infinite
or ponder if they are one and the same,
or say something clever about the snow, how all these kisses are wasted on glass,
don't think of how terribly
romantic
it would be
if our law of lips
and tongues caused us to crash.
don't try and get to know me better when it's too cold to get out of bed.
It's not your fault that i don't want to let you in.
because
i bargained for a savior when we first traded smiles
and what i saw scared me half to death.

Even when nothing is decided,
even then,
it's time that takes control of the present moment in time and tells all that's going on in the mind.

Moment by moment each moment passes by making the next moment in time all the more important

Even when the next moment in time takes some time to come in,
even then, the moment in time which passes by further raises the level of anxiety.

Over a period of time a lot of time has passed still nothing new has happened.

Neither a revival,
nor any hope.

Everything remains as it is,
very much the same,
nothing seems to have changed.

An anxiety continues to take hold of the mind
Something needs to be done,
something, which is different from routine.
A change from routine needs to be adapted by putting the next step forward.

A little bit of an anxiety acts as a driving force
Anything in excess will spoil the sport
Pick up the right moment in time
Find out exactly what needs to be done
Mark it out somewhere
At the back of your mind be firm when once you have decided what needs to be done.

Now when the need of hour is something different,
then it’s an opportune time to break the ice.
So move ahead and act accordingly

Better face the present moment of time
It's pointless wandering of the mind, if more and more time is spent in ascertaining the future
Definitely something different needs to be done from all that's going on in mind.

The present belongs to you
You own the present moment of time
So see to it that you make the best use of it
Live with the present in the present moment of time
Move ahead in life along with the present moment of time.