She had shoulder length golden hair, fine strands disheveled, contrasting with her olive drab army jacket.
It was November again, and the world had gotten worse, the disease had spread, but everything kept on.
She seemed on the edge of tears, whether from the bitter wind or some private hurt, I didn’t not know.
The bus was late, and the sky was the dark grey of an abandoned tomb Stone, and that was the one comforting thing.
She turns me, is startled to see me, but quickly smiles, warmth and kindness shining through, despite it all.
There was always bad news, but nothing seemed to change, until the plague claimed you.
She wipes her eyes, and she looks down the road, whether for the bus or an angel, I do not know.
I spend to much time, dreaming up another life.
If I done this and not that, if I”d accepted love.
Parallel universes are filled with my day dreams.
It hasn’t come out as I planned, but I still have something.
Even now, there is a friend and a possibility of love.
Maybe something will work out right, something good in this life.
Sitting on the edge of the diving float,
Her bare feet she raises in and out of
She is wearing that blue and white
Swimsuit that this whole summer,
I sit beside her, as evening falls in a
Velvety black, and far off from us,
Heat lightening flashes.
We sit in silence watching it,
As if mesmerized and fearful,
The flashes without any thunder,
The night still without a sound,
All will be the same.
She let me play with her hair, long and glossy, silky and black.
I let in fall through my palm, and ran it through my fingers.
I was soothed by the gentle tactile touch of it, the smooth coolness.
Just a little time with her, such a simple and naive desire.
And before she left, she stood over me as I sat on the bed.
As I looked up, she tilted her head down, and ran her hair across my face.
Then she was gone, and I hoped this sweet feeling would linger.
A cheap motel off a two lane highway, on the edge of the plains, a warm summer night, heading to Las Vegas.
A swing set in a little courtyard, I rock myself, and look up at a sky filled with stars, melancholy.
I feel heavy and out of sorts here on Terra Firma, all a mask and I’ll fitting among others.
I feel weightless looking up at the stars, and filled in my chest with the most bittersweet longing.
Do I belong to someone up there? In another world? Am I another kind of being?
Changeling, or alien swap out, this world is no home to me, and only the stars are welcoming to me.
I want someone to fall in love with me, but just because you want something, doesn’t mean you should have it.
Still in limbo, an in-between state, not whole or complete, still struggling to fight my mental, emotional battles.
I could be a good friend, faithful and patient, read to fight at your side, but not one to grow and change with.
I can’t give myself to someone, because I cannot escape myself, or captain my own listing ship.
So I will be by your side, until the end of the world, but romance will be foregone for a night sky full of stars.
Tara, petite, golden haired,
Is a gold dust hope for me.
The shimmer in the pan,
As the days go on and on.
I envy her youth, even now.
The world flailing and ending.
Excitement and dreams so bright.
She has hope for what can come.
Teas and teas and teas on end.
Just to be close to a good person.
Flakes of gold, to buy a night’s stay
Of the hopeless exit calling me.
Somewhere, on a mountain highway,
Feeling spirits and ghosts, emptiness.
A woman sings, a hallowed mourning.
If I drive all night, I’ll outrun it forever.
The trees are tight clutching fingers,
Closing in, trapping me here, lightless.
Cities are just the light and noise that
Keep us distracted, docile, from demons.
Just before sunrise, the sky dim blue,
The end of the woman’s voice singing,
The road ever and eternally going on,
I realize I will never outrun the demons.
A church girl, might’ve left it behind,
With a dream, a kiss or two in mind.
Casper in summer is another town.
At a boy’s feet, you did not cast a crown.
Drinks with friends, and some love.
Boy back home hates low, no above.
He sold his faith to a cruel demigauge.
Just another man of God made a cog.
Late night, small motel pool, starlight.
He would of held hand and throat tight.
By the pool, you’ve earned some scars.
But that boy would’ve stolen every star.
“No more guitars!” Said Billy.
“No more angry bee strings,
Or howls breaking your ribs!”
Me and Billy, driving all night,
Trying to find lovers and hope,
Listening to a girl, just her voice.
Broadcast from a radio station
Up in The Appalachian Hills,
A psalm of sorrowful lament.
Her voice, beseeching to God,
Even as she draws closer to Him,
Even as her tears flow and flow.
Me and Billy are going to San Diego,
To find mermaids in bright beaches
Not admitting our tears flow, too.