the town crazies

In moments of sadness, beauty explodes. In moments of simple pleasure, we remember you the most.

Here I am at my deepest, most vulnerable and completely abstruse.

Does it hurt that I love you more than the infinite light particles of the sky?

That every breath I breathe is a testament to my will to love you harder.

That my movement is a song only you can create.

That the kisses you delicately place on each rib bone could awaken me from almost death,

and that I pray ferociously to God, that you are not his favourite.

I see eternity in your smile. 

To the shades of air

that melt unto my fingertips

and grace me with your prayers,

I am but a lonely mule,

waiting for the road.

They say it is one worth searching for.

To look for all your days.

They say it is almost worm-like,

blazing past your trail.

But once I met a wizened gypsy,

hiking up the same.

I asked him his direction,

he glanced at me and said;

my guess is that the road we search for is equal to both. 

We have heard of riches and glory, magic, haze.

I’ve searched, mule. I’ve walked roads merely dreamed of,

but am yet to find such a proclaimed road.

I’ve searched for the road worth searching for 

and

while wasted on my travels,

I missed the road worth grazing on. 

I cry only once when the leaves of the trees turn to reds and yellows and are taken back by the earth.

I cry when love turns sour and hands which caressed the face

fall from their forever-place to barren sides,

where wind and feeling regress from their tips.

Why do tears fall for only these things?

A steady trickle that flows over the contours of the face to where the chin waves a hollowed goodbye.

Will you weep for others, for life gone and lost, lived and shared?

For beauty,should it be the wisdom of mankind and growth of children.

No, I weep for things of fleeting warmth.

My fingertips touch the brissles of your cheek

and the flowers bloom.

I hear you feverishly scratch love words onto paper.

Forever etched in earth and hearts.

I lay beside you and hear you exhale, like silk.

Your lungs present me with your hopes and dreams.

I inhale them.

I inhale you.

And when I sit beside you on the bench that overlooks the mountains that cradle us and the river that encircles us,

I feel your body heat and know you are the same.

Is it the wind that keeps me coming back to you?

The sweet spring days?

The way you thumb traced my cheekbones as you kissed my face?

And there is a deeper connection that runs further then the infinite.

I am longing for the day back were you wake up and whisper the words that I left with you.

Is it the waffles on market street, that stirs the air?

Browning leaves that cartwheel over paving stones.

We are more than lovers held together by a rusted chain.

And we are more then soul mates broken by a double-sighted man.

The bitter metallic taste,

the flashes of white light.

It all meant nothing to me.

Because I can still feel the heavy weight of your arms on my shoulders 

and the flush on my cheek were your lips should be.

Under my covers

cosy and warm 

I am who I am, comfortable you see.

The motion, 

it’s as placid and easy

as breathing could ever be.

But where is the life,

the ecstacy,

the spark?

When you are curled up in covers

safe and warm, in the dark.

It is hidden deep down

Under blankets and rugs.

Shunted not nurtured

to explore the world above.

You are you, I am me.

We are we, easy to see.

But you are lying 

if you are lying under the covers everyday.

Is it weakness to revel in the company of others?

Where darkness walks arm in arm with solitude.

Where daisies bloom, when two voices loom their silken thread.

While the words pump through my blood.

They reach to the furthest lengths of my body

and in my fingertips I can feel your song reverberate

into the corners of my heart.

'While my heart's still pumping blood.'

My ears will hear

and I am matter that is no bigger 

and no smaller than every blood-pumping creation.

It is where

you

lay your

mind 

down. 

Where you are

revealed.

You are a splendour.

You must

just

be

found.

Am I too afraid to reach?

Do not let me sit in this house of fear.

That once looked like comfort and all-wells.

I know that the devil chooses to don

the sweetest of masks.

If he succeeds,

it is only your hell that remains.

Let it be a struggle, but let me win!

Let there be tears, but let me win!

let there be pain and confusion.

But I will win!

This is how we play the game.

Two steps forward, then fall.

This is how we win the prize.

Try and try and try and try.

This is how my heart breaks.

Once and never again.

In a line, 

we chant the words you say.

To move,

we move as you say.

And yet you shoot me down

while I only act on your command.

To turn my head. To lift it to the sky

and whisper my dreams.

To hold you as I thought I could

A lonely tear traces a path

down my cheek. 

Where, here,you shoot me down.

For all that changes and goes

astray.

You are stone.    Strong.

Your hands caress me down.

A man yet tender.

When I am tense and 

unyielding.

Your words are molten.

Would it be a wrong world if all was perfect? If no one felt pain or was sad or cried due to hurt in their life? Is it possible to want such a place on earth. Sometimes i get this feeling for people when I can empathize or only sympathize I have an acute pain in my heart as if my chest is being jumped on or that my heart and lungs are being simultaneously compressed and stretched.

And my biggest question to the Great Unknown is if it is possibly to live a fulfilling, hopeful and courageous life without prior pain to which to overcome? 

I just want a happy world.

Can it happen when “Eve ate the apple”? When humans crave the primitive and darkest abyss’ of human emotions, needs, wants.  

Is my want or need for societal perfection ironic in the fact that perfection is unattainable. A love child of greed and envy, possibly others?