sit and stare.

I will sometimes sit and stare
at something that's not really there
and pull, fully formed, out of thin air
a morning wish, an evening prayer

I will sometimes sit and gaze
at relationships I have set ablaze
or, if you'll allow me to rephrase
I wallow in my dark malaise

I will sometimes sit and wonder
at all the opportunities I've squandered
at all the love I've torn asunder
staring off into the wild blue yonder

I will sometimes sit and question
the hidden geometric progression
of transgression and my indiscretion
the difficulty of true expression

I will sometimes sit and scheme
desires stacked on a balance beam
while all my hope  just loses steam
and becomes subservient to the dream

I will sometimes sit and stare
at apparitions not really there
and all this psychological warfare
was that the point of the whole affair?



change everything.

changing nothing
is the cowards way,
content to wallow
in the familiarity of
what has come before
and what is yet to come
  but what if
    and hear me out
      what if
        that were not
          the case?

          changing nothing
        costs nothing
      and is worth nothing
    for we are defined by
  our actions, and the
opportunity to grow,
to experience, to live
is priceless
is invaluable
it costs nothing
it is worth everything

haunted by desire
          and yearning
          for more, more,
               the ghost of
          desperation and
     need for validation
in the face of silence,

aspiring for that which
is worthwhile and true
and the painful realization
that the only one who
can slake this thirst is
me.

sifting.

if I could make one change
it would be to change everything
and it would start with 
changing nothing

followed by making the hard choice
to stop
to be satisfied with the now
to be content with the here

the ultimate sophistication
it has been said
is nothing more than simplicity
is nothing less than clarity

the mind roars to fulfill
the petty desires of the
heart and mind and the
cacophony is deafening

but to be still and mindful
to breathe in and listen
to breathe out and hear
to embrace the stillness

to rise above the overbearing
desire to have and to hold
to possess and to grasp
to cling to the poison

even when letting go
is so much easier than
clenching my fist around
the shifting, sifting sands

and when the hourglass
is empty and I am spent
I would rather have lived than
to have just thought about living

rent free.

the problem with insomnia
aside from the obvious
lack of sleep
sluggish, lethargic 
sleep-filled eyes
headache

is that my brain finds
every little thing to
obsess over 
every little mistake
misstep, miscalculation
misalignment

and how I wish I could
focus on something
other than the
errors I've made whilst
snatching defeat from the
jaws of victory

and oh, how happy I'd be!
if only I could take back
what I said or did
and replace those
with the correct
answer

and oh, how content I'd be!
if only I could make you
see that everything
tends towards
chaos and disorder
except for us

and oh, how rich I'd be!
if only I could capture
a portion of the money
I am losing by letting
you live in my head
rent free.

…in the immortal words of Miles.

we move at different speeds
     you and I
I'm full speed ahead and damn
     the torpedos
you're wait-and-see, bide your
     time, reluctant
you want to be sure this time
     cautious
I don't see the point - when you
     know, you know

so which is it?  I can't help but
     wonder
am I too ready, are you not
     ready enough?
is there some middle ground
     we're missing?
is it wrong to throw caution
     to the wind?
is it right to give it the time
     you require?

what you see is what you get
     I said
and if feels like that's not good
     enough
are you waiting for something
     more?
are you waiting for the other
     shoe to drop?
are you cautious by nature
     or is it just me?

so we take it at your pace
     dilatory
you say you need time to
     be sure
but what is it you want to 
     be sure of?
what confirmation are you
     expecting?
a sign from god isn't in the
     cards

sometimes you just have to 
     say
(in the immortal words of
     Miles)
what the fuck, make your
     move
time waits for no man, no
     woman
you miss 100% of the shots
     you don't take

am I impatient or just over
     confident?
a little of both, I suppose
     as usual
because it feels like a slight,
     as if to say
you're good, but not quite
     good enough
and what if I can actually
     do better?

I can't answer those questions
     for you
(actually I can, but that's another
     discussion)
all I can tell you is what I've said
     all along
everything changes, everything
     stays the same
and I'm the same man now as I
     will be then.

another ending.

your eyes
  even across the miles
    through the screen
on my phone
  are slightly puffy
    and you've given it
a lot of thought
  and I believe you
    why wouldn't I?
how could I not?

your soul
  bared to me
    although you had
no reason to
  you owe me nothing
    two strangers who
connected
  across the spectrum
    for the briefest
of moments

your words
  at once hurt
    even as they heal
and it becomes
  clear to me that
    you would care
if the circumstances
  were different
    but they are not
and you don't

and the irony
  is that I've used
    this very same lie
myself

questions for me.

I give
     you take
          I look to the pigeon
               or is it a butterfly
"is this compromise?"

you ask
     I tell
          you are non-plussed
               duly unimpressed
"why do I even bother?"

we stop
     we start
          we are consistent
               in our inconsistency
"what are we, exactly?"

you're closed
     or is it me?
          I can no longer tell
               who's driving this train
"where to now, babe?"

we look
     but don't see
          and where do we get off
               trusting each other to care?
"do I even know you?"

you give
     I take
          but what you've given
               is not enough, never is
"is this all there is?"