Nine Hour Hum

This is the housed professional that envelops day to day,
complete with foreign coffee mugs
that denote a person's age.

My enclosure has three walls, none of which imprison
or echo breaths or words or calls,
beyond my own derision.

And when I need a ladder to climb from 'neath fluorescents,
there is a door that goes by card,
with knowing bulb candescent.

The handle is a question mark on this caffeinated tankard.
It scolds me raw with rising steam,
and leers with spices haggard.

It insists I am an older man despite my tragic youth.
Its years I've yet to cultivate,
their wisdom yet imbued.

But it keeps me woke and wary of the passing workplace fellow,
their baskets filled with sugared filth
that cater to my mellow.

I'll take it to the cafeterium and say hello while going,
content with thoughts of politics
in offices worth strolling.

There I will converse anew with friends and strangers still,
happy with my hoodie on,
and trying not to spill.

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Distance From the Ground

I'd put my foot through glass for you:
to shatter it and matter forth,
to fall into the outside bled,
to make threats to the sunset.
We share no more than common space
among our chosen common friends,
but we're not alike in how we speak,
nor alike in our conclusions.
I can only hope that after biting dust,
you'll settle in with me to warm
and know that someone else is there,
that is your same distance from the ground.

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They say fairy tales aren't real.
But we don't need Peter when we've got a Neverland of our own.
Just you and me and the Patriots throw that someone tossed us
an insignificant number of minutes ago.
We sit shoulder to shoulder, arms pressed tight against each other
and feet awkwardly brushing on the chair we keep them propped up on.
But I don't mind awkward touches, because at least their touches at all.
You've stolen my phone, again,
and I play with your slender fingers as you use your bad hand
to try and decode my password, drawn in by the secrets I could have.
You use your bad hand, because your good hand and my good hand are playing.
We don't think much of it when my curled up figure gently leans onto you,
head finding its way against your shoulder.
Our hands linger together just a moment longer than an innocent accident would have allowed
and I pretend it doesn't give me butterflies to be nestled in so close to you.
Your deep voice whispers into the top of my head and I close my eyes,
longing to be here forever.
Because in these moments,
these insignificant number of minutes,
it doesn't matter that we're not in love, it doesn't matter that we could be.
In these moments we are in love,
even if only for these moments.
Even if when the bell tolls ten o'clock and your mother has come down,
offering me a ride home,
we're time warped back
from Neverland
to reality.
Just two friends,
wishing they were in love.

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Trust yourself :)

People come and go
Giving you affection
You can always catch a smile
From their direction
Lending you a shoulder
That you can cry on
They'll see your sad face
And throw some light on

But when you're all alone
When you're on your own
There is just one person
You should never miss on
This quiet voice inside your head
Will always help you get ahead

When the waves of the unknown hit you
And you need someone to look up to
Skip those falling tears
Get rid of all your fears
Just put a smile
Upon your pretty face
To put it all in place

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As Friends

What do friends have
that which doesn't retain?
——But their oneness
...through every rain!

What do friends like
——that keeps them sane?
In their silences
...they do not remain!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is written/composed just at this precise moment (Aug. 23, 2011). It emphasizes every relational crisis that we often befall in, especially the kind that mostly bother our sense of friendship.

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Our Hands Assembled

Many sounds collected to form
some tapestry of our varied tastes.
A ministry of audio collage:
formed as a product of cohesion.
We sat on glass for sampling
the ripple of the air we take;
immobilized by sanctity,
or something that could pass for it.
The languid roll of our chosen springs
had interwove towards something final:
over-flown and risen with steam
and indistinct in odor.
This quilted, bathing, gathered thread
that hangs along my inner walls
has found my conscious gradual
in its grasping of such shine.
And on these shores struck fine with wit,
along with practiced application,
we marvel at what comes of it:
our care and worth as taken.

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It's not another work night
where we're clawing at our beds,
but it's also not a get-away
with carried dirt on heels.
We're making many tracks in sand
that give away the state of things
and the weight of all our urgency,
which admittedly is little.
Soon we're treading, water-logged;
our armaments in tow.
A giggle rises from the land
that we might just have solicited.
Soon surrendered to fatigue,
forced to share in the defeat;
we lead aloft to balconies
just to find some trash to eat.

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Treaty Beach

There was a passing thought -
once a bright idea,
that lead to passing ruin,
akin to falling stars.
What had been real was processed
from flesh to muddied tin.
The stale of air in atmosphere
gave rise to their alarm.
He trails aloft in consciousness
and recites his efforts past.
Amidst the shallow, local river
he hears a sense be made.
Grasping for one solid, stable
base on which to cling for life,
he subjects himself to the waving,
lucid trembling force of the word.
He finds his landing beside a lake,
among those he knows best.

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Dear Friends

My friends I have are usually true
There's nothing for them I would not do
As long as I can, I will help them out
They will help me too, even in a drout
I have been betrayed so many times
Friend and foe, they have the same lines
But there are friends I have who are faithful to me
How much I care for them, I hope they can see
I miss so many of them I left back home
Then there's ones that cannot roam
I may never see them in reality
But they are my friends that I can't see
All are true no matter the distance
Thinking of them being here makes me feel bliss
There's Chad who is the best of all
Always there for me with just a call
My lovely friend Desiree
Boys came between us and drove us away
But we worked it out so great
Guys will never work as bait
Nikki is a friend so dear
She always knows what I need to hear
Leslie is so fun and free
She helps me with my insanity
Slim is far from his name
But I love his fluffy hugs the same
Asia is way out of her head
Same as me, even if dead
Vernon tokes day and night
Hard truth he gives with all his might
Brittini I share so much with
We think alike, it's not a myth
Ann and Matt, my awesome cousins
Great fun, especially for illegal actions
Brooke is such a big flirt
But she never intends to hurt
Serenity appears to be her namesake
But is adventurous, never takes a break
Kimaru I miss so for now
He acts so dumb but takes a bow
Whitney I've known since childhood
She's been there through the bad and good
These are just some of my closest
They are not the only ones that are best
I miss you all every day
I just want to hang out and play
So cheers to all my friends I love
In our fun games of push and shove
I await to see you all once more
This will not be a sealed door

Author's Notes/Comments: 

About my awesome friends

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