What came to mind-

Some days I miss the sun when it goes away

The future makes me cry and so does the sound of Florida when i hear it slip her mouth. Desperation and depression-bridges and eighteen dimes with two nickels to hop an island. Drifting a foot in the air, gliding above four wheels, i'm taken by houses on an east coast and i feel lonely because i don't know anybody around here- i am a stranger every where i go. I want to have a porch and a sunroof as an attic and i'm not looking forward to any breaks- a thought of an emotion brings emotion- as i lay in a bed in Jamestown while wet eyes see through low ceilings. Cliffs and water collide, but i'm still sprinting down a beach because i got lonely on the walk. The drive home was extra dark tonight and if i died on the ride, i wouldn't have been okay with leaving you.

Typical Friday?

There's an empty room that a stripped tee-shirt boy plays his piano for, but for now we're still clarity filled and our eyes are not yet red as we mold in the couch at the back of the room. Feet take us to the boutique shop upstairs where she buys records and i buy an old man pipe for eight bucks-the incense were for her mother. Awkwardly park our car in a dead give away corner, so we rearrange ourselves besides a truck and ease the glass down a few inches for raw air. Laughter and the giggles-always taking her forever to pass and i hallucinate snowmen over my left shoulder, gripping the wheel inside the truck behind us. Men running around us or at least half a mile away and ever single pair of lights she sees, "COPS!" Every time i believe her; she blows her smoke to the floor and i don't know why. After a sincere cry, we pace over a frozen patch of water and walk into an audience of a small crowd where we turn our heads to hear, "Hey, do you lady's want to sit on the couch with us, there is room?"

Gay boys wanna get creative? "Come on, it'll be fun," he says while petting her blonde hair...

Tale of the mind

With sharp eyes penetrating the pavement stripped endlessly in front of me, I'm considering every detail fiercely because i don't want to miss a thing. I study the fields from a distance because the passion was lost somewhere down the road. Remembering our slow motion jog framing years to your fate-so far I've been lucky. I want to dream in a house where our walls are the grass, tipped with the sun as our shelter while letting myself be mesmerized by the coil of your fingers tracing nature at its very best. Our two bodies stretched naked as rivers on any ground we can call our valley-we are earths rivers. In an endless dale of green our loneliness is compared to our lack of flawless oxygen-so pure, needling my senses in delight, suspending all pain for eternity in our minds. Our smiles reach the birds without leaving us behind-our souls are atmospheric. Loneliness is futility and our sky is a green mountain coating the silhouette of blue trees-they are the homes to the birds that riposte our queries. The time is our feel-clocks lacking numbers and hands for them to fall upon. Nothing is falling. Two hands to every soul; they are meant for holding. Technology wasn't so fortunate this "time" around. All comfort is kept in vision, in arms reach and every patch of skin was meant to be touched by you, my beautiful wonder world.

Lacking balance

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My eyes are slow to move and my mind is slow to think. Catching myself glaring in insignificant directions, i wonder my appearance and to what they may think. Trees and students turn cartoon and everything is surreal. Questioning when this distinction of human race turns to artwork coming alive. After so long, my stares may look thoughtful, but my thoughts are lost and i don't know where i am. Someone tell me, please, how long have i been away?

Sometimes i catch myself playing in fantasy and my eyes are the coats of my thoughts.

Anarchy thoughts-let me show you what I can get away with. It's 2009, drop the bible and where's your fucking wisdom? Lets bring the balance without the papers, come on now.

Aren't you all just poising yourselves selfishly?

Summer of last year

Everything is beautiful

Simplicity at it's best.

Benicasim

Indian style, boxers and a tee shirt with a wet bathing suit underneath, I'm molded with a bed that's mine in the summer time. Just up until this  year, the walls remained a dirty white. Since age three when i wore my hair down in a straight escapade, running with foreign boys i kissed in parking garages and storage closets. Many Spanish crushes, running playing "Boote Boote" and "Police y Cacos." Sprinting down squared tiled sidewalks, encircling our apartment building, finding  the best hiding spots and always being the last to be found. At that age my skin knew how to tan. Innocence is a wonderful memory and i hope the beach will always be there like childhood in my mind. 

When i try, i can remember more than what I've forgot.

10/8/08

I dare you to be honest, but i know there is so much to fear when it comes to this. It began with my breath, my wind on your neck, to exchanging silent words through tongues. I didn't know where to begin or if i was even allowed, but now i struggle with where to stop, or even if i should. I don't want to stop. These feelings aren't momentarily; are yours? Vulnerability hasn't ever shown so clear; isn't it obvious you can destroy me? "I'm in love with a girl who's in love with the world." John Mayer made me cry in April of last year and i hate you for it. You're nothing but a box under my bed for now because I've moved on to such better things. INDIFFERENT to the both of you. I'm much better at deliberate recklessness and tasteful lovers anyways. I'm revived by thoughtful skepticism and eager anticipation.

I'm so focused on the window to your mind you sometimes crack open for me to see. Let me all the way in? Even my breath is shaking.