[06][19][09] - 2

In a place of many
only 1 remains
bring in the new
remove the stains

In a place far away
you keep yourself hidden
to give you my heart
is wholly forbidden

In a place of choices
how does one go about choosing?
when inevitably
one of us is losing

[06][19][09]

You're my source of poetry
from now on,
through my fingers you bleed

from now on,
its a city under siege

because you're my source of poetry

everywhere i glance
i see you
could it be
you see me too?
could it be
I've stolen parts of your soul
impressions like the wind
have taken a toll

impressions you left
when before my heart you tore
impressions you gave me
leaving me sore

everywhere i touch i feel you
could it be
you feel me too?

from now on,
its a blanket over the breeze
how do you inspire me with so much ease?

and how you leave me
you're such a tease

the city wont stop
it's under siege

White Nights, Dostoevsky

"For, after all, you do grow up, you do outgrow your ideals, which turn to dust and ashes, which are shattered into fragments; and if you have no other life, you just have to build one up out of these fragments. And all the time your soul is craving and longing for something else. And in vain does the dreamer rummage about in his old dreams, raking them over as though they were a heap of cinders, looking in these cinders for some spark, however tiny, to fan it into a flame so as to warm his chilled blood by it and revive in it all that he held so dear before, all that touched his heart, that made his blood course through his veins, that drew tears from his eyes, and that so splendidly deceived him!"

-Dostoevsky, White Nights

letterstogethermakeprettywords

i'm writing words
words of writing
words of fighting

what are these words?
sometimes alive
sometimes dying

what are these words?
words are speaking
words are leaking

loose words
tight words
wrong words
right words

what are these words?
steering left
steering right
never seem to be just right

only to you these words
mean something

only to me these words
are nothing

these are just words
just words I am writing

Dr. Seuss is a Genius

Oh, the places you'll go

Do you dare to stay out?

Do you dare to go in?

How much can you lose?

How much can you win?

And if you go in, should you turn left or right…or right-and-three-quarters?

Or, maybe, not quite?

You can get so confused that you’ll start to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace

Headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.

The Waiting Place……for people just waiting.

Waiting for a train to go, or a bus to come, or a plane to go, or the mail to come, or the rain to go, or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow, or waiting around for a Yes or a No

Or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants,

Or a wig with curls

Or another chance...

-Dr. Seuss