first love reduxintensity,eyes peering through fašade into true meaningfingers intertwined, thoughts elsewheretwo dreamers trying to discern the consequences of a situationwith hearts held gently in cupped hands,those hearts once worn on sleeves,they wish to taste passion with reckless abandonthe sort one gives to their first love, before distance and logic prevaillying in bedthey love each other with hesitant emotionyet somehow they overcome the reasons it shouldn't workcontent in each others presence, savoring each moment
the taste of passionfor these moments, lying in bed with youI feel that this could last foreveryet I know it is but a fleeting graceI could dread the end, I could worry for the futurebut to do so would discredit the nowso give me days in bed, kissing for hourstalking of philosophical thingsand rants about societylet me taste your passion, here and nowwe once thought in terms of the future or pastyet here with you, I finally appreciate the present.
sour remembranceI remember when my time was innocent.Then was a new time, glowing with hope,At the dawn of my new era.And then life's time caught up to me,In a cold rush that chilled me to the bone,I found myself wise with knowledge I did not wish to possess,My good friend and I, who now are merely acquaintances,Talked macho, avoiding the depth we once held.His materialism and my jealousy at such pettiness made me want to vomitThat which time brought to me, against my will.Shallow hopes from experience glazed minds.Funny, all I have to show for myself is a ton of metal wrapped around four wheels,I too feel lessened, rolling though what is to me nowA ghost town, solemn faces fronting sad soulsThe fašade is displays of wealth, which equals power,at least there.I stand there in the hallway,drawing stares from the surrounding folk,shocked at the sight of the self-chosen outcast from their worldA few rush up like waves, murmur small talk, and recede like the tide intohalls of lockers.I
silence 12she braced her neck with her left hand, head tilted to the right.she looked off into space with soft eyes, blinking lightly every three seconds. her look made me concerned, with a mix of pity (for her possible sadness), and curiosity. I wondered if it would be worth it to shatter her delicate introspective silence for the purpose of striking up a conversation, but dismissed the idea, realizing that such an act might extract the beauty from this scene and send it crashing earthward.
digital red1:30, it said to me in digital red, speaking of the present momentnothing more was necessarylight from Oregon rainy sky slid in to illuminate through beige blindsthe room was asleep, everything in its place as we lay therecurled up next to me, our shapes under the covers mergedcontent in the peace of slumber,my arm draped gently across your body, I felt warmth beyond mere temperatureit was this alone I was searching for, what you gave to me so simply here
adolescent gloryin the days when idealism was cherishedabove superficial things and 5-year plansgrowing old was never an issuewe would never age past adolescenceretaining youthful energy - sparks to set the world ablazeromance reigned supreme and love would conquer allno calls to avoid, no old lover\'s weddings to reluctantly attendi could write then, because i believed it would make a difference