yours

my value
as a person not a place or thing
my value
in sense not cents
fully completely entirely but not limited to:

pocketfuls of effortless sounds
handfuls of tumbling words
a thought's breath of rhythm
miles and miles of sparks flying
answers full of questions
one continuous thought
amidst a million beautifully scattered truths and
mysteries
endless unexplained crazy
the ability to make unrequited desire a
poetic trance of understood
love, light, dark, sight and the lack thereof
and
a soulful of me

and the two cents i pay to hear
your two cents
is not
enough

cause i want more than two cents

and

i have more to offer

and

so do you

tangibly abstract

you know when you
see something out of the corner of your
eye and then you
turn to look directly at
it and
it's gone

and you go on

was it there?

(..and

is it

still?..)

when i said crazy, i meant it

words lie
through their very nature
the intention of a sentence isn't missing if you meant it,
but anyone can spend a second inventing its direction

which i won't even mention

perception is a foolish game
with no one
but me
to blame
in the final end

i won't pretend
i don't have a path or two to follow
but i anticipate
the same
bitter
pill
to swallow

for me?... was it

am i even fluent in the same language as you?

i'm reading a map, upside down and sideways

i'm reading the map like it leads to MY 'home'
i'm getting somewhere or nowhere, i don't know

i say words i understand, in a language i think will make sense

i listen to words i think i understand
in a language
that makes sense to you..

give me one reason to stay here....

what part of when makes me know if it exists

no word is direct, or kissed

do i read a story i wrote?

and if so

do i even know how it ends

how much of this is foolish fit-the-pieces-where-i-THINK-they-go?

or what i know

some little bit of forgotten you
needs to tell me if i am
gullible
or
magical

lies

silence
the virtue i lack
even when silent
the act
is loud
and smacks me like i've come loose
or been set free
and i scream
(yet, so quietly)
some endlessly merciless possibility
into the pungent
thick
space
we use to attract
whatever it is we 'want'
(a term loosely used..
often confused)
with what
we
don't

things not heard

i could laugh
but the sound is the same as
everything else
that ends

'i just want back in your head'
is the catch phrase
from the song
i keep hearing
and all i want
is for that to
not
be
true.

if i run really hard
and fast....

i have to
i have no reason not to

i want to hide
but the bare naked nature of expression does not allow for it
right now
i don't know why, how

let go of the ratio
of things not said
to things not heard
cause a paper bag is never a bird
no matter how much you feel some random unrelated need to see it that way

ok. i'm done now
sorry