(Updated)

His fingers pull mine

As the fireworks explode.

On our year abroad.

Hands around my waist
My white dress swirling.

Gazing eyes close in on us. 

My screams shake the room
The child’s sound erupts.

Softening, he takes my hand.

(Original)

His fingers pull mine

As the fireworks shoot up

On our year abroad.

Hands around my waist

As the eyes close in on us

My white dress swirling

The screams from my mouth

Softening, he takes my hand

The child’s sound erupts

Questions

What do you need the most?

The sounds of the ocean…. 

The oceans waves…

The waves of sound…

The sound of laughter…

The laughter of tears….

Where do you need it?

Where the homes have roofs…

Where the roofs have windows…

Where there are windows to the sun…

Where the sun has a reflection…

When is the need there?

When the smiles lack teeth…

When the teeth lack substance…

When the substance has a host…

When the host has acceptance…

When the acceptance is permanent…

Why is the need so great?

The faces of the children…

The children pull on the parents…

The parents formation to adult…

The adult progression to cripple….

Are these the answers?

Sign Off. Forever.                              (Updated) 

Words in my mind.

            Rolling, as the orange leaves engulf the trees. 

                        From my over-stimulated hypothalamus.

                                    My 32 by 22 inch desk pushed, in the claustrophobic room.

                                                Tongue trying to express the erratic heartbeat within.

Typing the pain away, as my pudgy fingers make the banging music.

            On my beige comforter with the wet, white pillow.

                        My knuckle keeping the memory in the wall for all eternity. 

                                    Keyboard dented with the pressure of the pain. 

So where did the small tubes with the long names go?

            Many heads moving in one direction. 

                        Thoughts I have while I am in my little corner.

This is why I resemble a ghost.

            Madness of the red cups in all crevasses of the 8,000 square foot home.

                        Needs of others met, while mine are flowing away.

                                    To a place never to be seen or cared at the 

                                                End.

Should I keep continuing the never ending typing?

            I can keep it all in.

                        Stop the others to visualize my black holes.

                                    It is the pain, put on the URL, seen by 2. 

I see the red engulfing the clear flow in the cream ceramic tub. 

            Am I ready for the final: 

                        Signing           

                                    Off.

Sign Off. Forever.                              (Original) 

Words in my mind.

            Rolling, as the orange leaves engulf the trees.

                        From my over-stimulated hypothalamus.

                                    My 32 by 22 inch desk pushed, in the chocked up room.

                                                Tongue trying to express the erratic heartbeat within.

Typing the pain away, as my pudgy fingers make the banging music.

            On my beige comforter with the wet, white pillow.

                        My knuckle keeping the memory in the wall for all eternity.

                                    Keyboard dented with the pressure of the pain.

So where are the people going?

            Many heads moving in one direction.

                        Thoughts I have while I am in my little corner.

This is why I am not seen.

            Madness of the red cups in all crevasses of the 8,000 square foot home.

                        Needs of others met, while mine are flowing away.

                                    To a place never to be seen or cared at the

                                                End.

Should I keep continue the never ending typing?

            I can keep it all in.

                        Stop the others to visualize the black holes in my heart.

                                    It is the pain, put on the URL, seen by 2.

I see the red engulfing the clear flow in the cream ceramic tub.

            Am I ready for the final:

                        Signing          

                                    Off.

The Commute                                (Updated)

Eyes move side to side as homes speed by,
"Tickets, tickets" last one out gets the fine.
Twenty's, Ten's, Five's pour out of my
wallet. Explosion, losing all it's weight.

A blending blue and orange blurs my worn eyes,
"This ticket has expired", I just can't pencil in the time.
His honey eyes looked down upon my demise.
Does he understand that this is never my ideal paradigm?

Eyeing the hollow bricks engulfing the rusting metal tube,
"Penn Station, final stop", the coffee dripping down my little finger.
Coffee, the rhythmic shaking in my hands, I forgot food.
Screech of the brakes, causing my eyelids to make it darker.

I savor every second of sunshine.
Will my eyes be able to stay open like a hungry cash register until lunchtime?




The Commute                                (Original)

Eyes move side to side as the homes speed by,
"Tickets, tickets" last one out gets fined.
Twenty, Thirty, Forty's  pouring from my
wallet, explosion losing its weight as the lady sighed.

Blue blending with orange blurs my worn eyes,
"This ticket has expired", I just didn't have the time.
His honey glazed eyes looking down upon my demise.
Does he understand that this is why I wish its summertime?

Eyeing the hollow bricks engulfing the rusting metal tube,
"Penn Station, final stop", the coffee dripping down my white cotton.
Coffee, causing rhythmic shaking in my hands, I forgot food.
The screech of the brakes casing my only thought as, caution.

I savor every second of the sunshine.
Will my eyes be able to stay open like the yellow lotus flower until lunchtime?

Comple                                                                   (Updated)

Like a baby bottle without its nippl
Like Coach K without his breathing tub
Like a smile without a mout
Like Cory without her head in the toile
Like a lollipop without the saliv
Like Alexandra without grey fog in her hea
Like a mattress without its sprin
Like Quinn without a knife at her wris
Like a jack in the box without a clow
Like Donnie without duct taped shoe
Like a home without a roo
Like Patrick without his barren 24 year old wif
Like a side view mirror without glas
Like Kim without stage 3 breast cance
Like a book without pag
Like Annie without her water bottle of Grey Goos
Like a laptop without keyboar
Like Mr.J without demensi
Like a wheelchair without whee

                21. Like The World Without Tears




Comple                                                                   (Original)

Like a baby bottle without its nippl
Like Coach K without his breathing tub
Like a smile without a mout
Like Cory without her head in the toile
Like a lollipop without the saliv
Like Alexandra without her depressio
Like a mattress without its sprin
Like Quinn without a knife at her wris
Like a jack in the box without a clow
Like Donnie without unemploymen
Like a skateboard without its whee
Like Patrick without his barren 24 year old wif
Like a side view mirror without glas
Like Kim without stage 3 breast cance
Like a book without pag
Like Annie without her water bottle of Grey Goos
Like a laptop without keyboar
Like Mr.J without demensi
Like a wheelchair without whee

                21. Like The World Without Tears