first comes the walk
walks are required now
prescribed to ward off
effects of life

getting from here to there
taken for granted
vertical movement
now a task

next was found
the Underground
home of brews
home of seats

some soft, cushy
others wooden
yet warm, inviting
come, taste our brew

chairs, sofas
filled with chatting people
mostly women
looking into faces

illuminated screens
across coffee, latte or tea
communicating
smiles, grimaces

what is shared
humor, news
fears, fraughts, fragments
dimensions of now, the past






people rise to
pick up special steaming
drinks fresh from
the Underground

he never orders latte
standard drinks
brew of the day
fill his cup

someday
an inkling may stir
his brain, he will order
a white chocolate mocha

maybe we're all
a little bit tired of
fighting for things
that aren't changing

maybe we're all
somewhat bitter
about the people
we failed to love

maybe we just need
a little more hope in
our heads when we
go to sleep tonight

maybe i'm just rambling
like a madman unhinged
& nobody will hear what
i'm actually trying to say

I was sitting quietly
just outside the city
beneath a starry sky,
contemplating all that is
in this strange 3d life
and enjoying a cool night.

Knowing that once
the night ate the day.
Then the sun ascended
in an orange expanding blaze,
reaching out to touch the blackness,
allowing the dark streaks
to sneak away.

I was slightly blinded;
Dry eyes sore and blurry
from the light a shining
as people hustled by.
It was a change you see
from my normal
nightly duties
of guarding empty factories.

Even so,
I still know
they are both
great places
to ponder the briefness
of our human existence.

I have little burns on my body,
like from a cigarette,
but they hurt much more,
although they haven't bled.

But those little burns, really,
aren't from a cigarette,
they are from people's looks,
looks so firm that they make me sweat.

Those looks tend to differ, though,
some feel like a cigarette,
and some feel like bullets,
that might even shoot me dead.

observing from afar
            but not too close for fear of my entire
            whole world crashing to nothing
listening to how things are
            but never saying anything because in the
            grand scheme of things, i know nothing
seeing others' happiness
            but feeling nothing myself, for
            to me, everything is nothing
smelling in the air success
            *but never having a taste of my
            own since i do and am nothing

You moved in, family friends with mine
Siblings friends with yours
Yet you’re still unknown

I watched you, trying to understand you
Never really talking to you
Just observing, still learning

Interacting around you
Seeing how you act
Different environments
Different people

Quiet, not shy
Funny, but reserved
Unsocial, but not mean

Watching you from across the room
Waiting for you to notice me
Watching you when you finally do

Teasing you but not really flirting
Unspoken discussions
Eyes meeting and agreeing
When our friends say absurd things

Sitting right by each other
Still not really talking
Knowing you, who you are
But you’re still unknown

I'm walking slowly, through a misty forest.
The trees are dampened by last nights cold breeze.
My breath is creating clouds of rain, that will wet the forest again.

I'm running, through a misty forest.
The trees are distressed.
My panting is causing disruption to the melody of nature.
Prints of my path are left for the next path creator.

I'm standing still, within the misty forest.
I cannot see any longer than the distance of the reflection of my eyes in your eyes.
These are the clouded thoughts, soon to be accompanied by dozens of lights.

You shift your eyes so that people may not see the truth;
Shielding yourself with innocent looks;
Not really holding a stare;
Afraid to be seen for who you truly are;
Ashamed and fearful of your lips,
What might it reveal and what not?
So you lower your eyes;
And shift your eyes;
shielding yourself with innocent looks