Just Because I Won't Doesn't Mean I Don't Want To

I guess I could sing for you
We both know the problem's not with my voice
I wish I could play the guitar
I'd make you melt with the sad, mellow tunes of my heart
And my words would carry a farther distance
But it's not my hands that can't follow a tune
Maybe I could learn the piano
And tickle your soul along with the ivories
But my fingers aren't holding me back
 
The seat of the throne has her own ideas
Passions and dreams and desires
An exuberant energy, wild, yet, undirected
Fiery yet inarticulate
Wide-eyed but wandering

Love's not a jigsaw puzzle
You can't start with the edges and slowly fill in the rest
You don't get all the pieces with your box
In search of the rest, you risk losing the ones you have
And you'll drop them from time to time
And you'll panic, searching the floor, under the tables, behind the couch
You'll grow discouraged
But just when you think you can't take it anymore
You'll have to trust that honest face in front of you
Open her hand
What she has for you
Might just complete you

Just A Thought

Can I travel on a thought?
Can I be carried away, out of the chains that bind the mind's inhabitants?
I'd be so far away from here, from now
I'd sit with Einstein and Freud and Cushing and Sinatra and Shakespeare and Homer and Washington
I'd talk with them, they'd teach me lessons, and they'd learn some too.
I'd go to the stars, to the center of an atom
I'd watch the sunset from your beating heart
Maybe dream in the arms of a lover
Then wake up to those dreams in my eyes
Where is the value of a glorious collection of thoughts?
Can a thought build a house?
Can it feed a mouth?
Can it bring love to the lonely?
I feel a border placed around my soul
One that I can't pass, jump, sneak through, get around
It separates my internal being
Which is all I really am
From what have been deemed the necessities of the world we all live in
Money
Status
A very specific education
Criss-cross paths that have been drawn by a lucky few
Now we all have to follow them
What about the areas in between?
I want to see them for myself
You can tell me all you want about them, but I am a visual learner
A tactile learner
I won't be satisfied with just the rails on a track
Why is that all that matters?
How can a penny be worth more than a human spirit?
I guess it's just a thought.

Content with Discontent

   As it happens often, 8th hour rolled around, and the world around me fell to pieces, caved into my head. I have no problem with the class of physical education as they call it; in fact, it's often quite nice, to be able to run around and do this and that without having to put much mental focus into it. I am not an athlete, and have never been, save for my rather successful years in martial arts which like an old relationship, I seem to miss the good parts of and forget why I left in the first place. A game called knock-out usually leaves me standing away from the long line for a while, because when I throw the ball toward the hoop, my lack of skill -- and more so, sentiment -- keeps it far from it's intended path, allowing the person behind me ample time to make the shot. No worries, think I, for my mind has many places to wander, and the act of standing idle in P.E. class brings a sense of satisfaction in defeating the entire purpose of it. While I would rather be running around, feeling my pulse quicken and my features redden, I take pleasure in the irony that often it is those who need it most that get the least motion by the set-up of such games and classes.
   So I stand aside, fixating my eyes on that netted goal, not out of interest but of thinking there is not a more appropriate place for them to lie. Unsure of what to do with my hands, I will hold them, finger my bracelets, put them behind my back or on my hips, each action feeling a bit forced and unnatural, yet better than feeling them weigh down, immobilized, by my sides. My face is wholly expressionless, if not a bit stern with bent eyebrows. Behind the eyes locked onto the hanging net, a mind works in places besides its physical location.  Many times, no words run through, no sentences or ideas that are in any sense tangible or able to be properly expressed or written, because I am clearing my head of all unnecessary monologue in order to feel the emotions of my heart and read life's philosophy from my soul. I am thinking, very hard, just not with my head. And though I might so desire it, it's often impossible to share this with other inquiring souls, blessed be their hearts, rare amongst the weeds of society. I worry because sometimes I try this but I feel completely empty, in heart and mind, as well as spirit, as if my essence has temporarily taken hiatus. Today, however, my brain's sulci presented me with intelligible words and thoughts.
  While far from a new revelation, a certain idea pervaded the emptiness of my head. This being, that we should seek to be content with discontent. It will never be a good thing to be entirely happy, for that is the opposite of from which bears change, motivation, focus, and action. We work for a desired effect, because we currently are lacking it.  We aim and dream for that which we do not have. If we feel whole, and satisfied with all of life's aspects, then we do not want change, and thus we do not want growth or progression.  Why work towards something when where we are is perfect? Why should a student work harder when they are pleased with a B? In the right scope, in the proper dosage, unhappiness is our greatest asset, spurring all new discoveries and achievements. I am bothered by not knowing the answer to this, so I will work to seek it, thus finding happiness. So we must strive for what we can never reach -- perfection -- but accept that we will never obtain it. One cannot be a winner all the time, and must realize that for the most part, he is a loser, in order to win at all.
   Humans spend too much time dwelling on negativity and its affiliations, treating it as an undesirable disease.  We have so driven this boon into ignominy that this natural and necessary state is medicated against; fought just as valiantly as wars are. Here is to embracing our healthy stress and that which causes it, to happiness with our secretly fertile unhappiness. When we accept the ebb and flow of life, it's much harder for any emotion to spiral out of control, taking over the minds and hearts which try to resist it so fruitlessly. And while I certainly will not follow what I've spoken, I will try my damnedest to be content with discontent - just not too content.

Why'd you let me win?

Simple Cards

Don't be tricked by aces in your face
They'll tell you that it won't be a difficult game
But they don't show what they're hiding beneath
What comes quick can never last
So don't jump so quick at weak prey
In a shuffle soon, your queen will appear
And your eyes will open to the meaning of the game

Throw away all the cards,

You're the light in the dark

Box

Under an amaretto sunrise I found a box
It's sturdy, dense, and heavy; it's all covered in locks
An aura emanates, sometimes light and sometimes dark
I took it with me, and saw it's presence to be interminable, like the song of a lark
More than anything I wanted to open it, but the seams were sealed shut
I couldn't slice the chains open no matter how much I cut
I fought and fought until I reached exhaustion
I never knew my desires were so Faustian
A moment from death, I'd found my design
To accept the unobtainable, and face the malign 

No matter how many deaths that I die I will never forget No matter how many lives that I live I will never regret

Along the Way

Somewhere along the way,  I found the letter I had lost. 
Maybe it was an A, or a B, or a Z;  I couldn't tell because the light wasn't so good.
It was one of those things that always stays a part of you, but you sort of let yourself forget.
You let life pass you by, flowing down the current of time, and then, all of a sudden,
"Oh yeah, I remember you. I was looking for you all this time."
And you did just fine in its absence, but in front of your face, you can't imagine yourself without it.

Maybe the pain that was set in place of the proximity of my letter made me repress my affections.
Maybe it hurt so bad I tried to hate it and told everyone I did. 
But the hate was set inward because I knew I'd never let it go, not all the way.
I could reach a staged happiness, tricking even myself it worked.
And I believed myself too. Why wouldn't I?

I spent so much effort, using all sorts of erasers and paints, to make it disappear from my mind, to cover it.
But the memory bled through, and smudges remained.
Because I couldn't forget the places we'd been to, and the stories I'd written with you.
Then to drop you from my alphabet, but keep writing. How could I do that? 
I'd look at all the other letters, and they're fine, they're lovely.
They have their places and purposes.
They aren't you though. They never could be. Such a shape and sound could never be reproduced.

I'm holding you tight; now, I have you.
My only fear?
Somewhere along the way, I'll lose you forever.

 

Fire in my heart, burning just for you

Prologue

We'll have a story to tell one day. We'll talk about the crazy way we met, the coincidence that just wasn't.  The way something entirely unintentional turned into furious potential. Maybe we'll talk about the way we waited for each other in every sense of the word. The way it drove us crazy, and toward each other.  We'll look back and see that a break didn't mean anything was broken, only paused. Thoughts never ceased when the words did, and thoughts are the precursors to every single thing in life. Thoughts and feelings, which were present, although it took me a while to untangle all the wires of my heart and disconnect some here, plug them in there, make a strong connection to my mind which is the only thing I trust sometimes, but perhaps the most unreliable. Rose-colored goggles are real. I swear, there's a pinkish tint to everything I see and hear and feel and taste, and I know that hue comes from you. I'm drunk on love, high off of a passion for another person I never thought I'd have. Challenges are my specialty. And this one, damn, it's harder than anything I've ever done before. Isn't it funny how something so passive as waiting can be so difficult? I'm pretty sure this is a bigger trial than my USMLE's will be. It's also hard how others look on seeking justification and verification when they deserve none. Only we know how we feel and it's a shame that most people will never have what we do. But I'll wait. I was really never one for instant gratification if it meant giving up something substantially valuable. The painful time I sit through makes that moment of achievement all the more glorious.

                                          "Summer has come and passed

The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends"