Saturday, August 18, 2012

Fishing

Everyone is looking for happiness,
like its the gold rush.
Claiming their spots on the lines of his palms.
Or setting up camp in post card scenery.
But I took interest in the sea.
Diving into moods that wash over me
with no instant reward.
Once you strike gold,
where is your depth?
You're a canal
and I am an abyss.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Conversations with a Boy I've Never Met (II)


Are you happy? Proud? Anything? Do you wake up thinking of someone? Does your hair stick to your face as you scratch your inner leg? Is there a burning desire to turn around still left inside your stomach? Do you ever have thoughts that hit you like a man hits a rabbit on a road? Do they strike you in a pleasant way; are you moved? Is there guilt in your exhale? Is there caution in your hands? Are nights your daytime? Is daytime your playground? Do you pick at your nails just to slow things down? Do you forget to look up? Just once? Does your heart skip beats? Do your hips find a rhythm? Does your car go fast? Can you show me? Will it hurt? Do you ever stop and think, even for a millisecond, or half:
Am I happy, proud, anything?