pictures of myself

my cheeks are heavy

with time

i've never been to costa rica

or andalucia

or many places

i can take a lot of pain

but i don't know how to do it well

there was a time when my style was less defined by what i wore

and more by how good everything looked on me

now i don't have that

but i don't want to succumb to this

when everyone else is glowing all around me

and maybe andalucia is still within reach...

why

sometimes my darling

your question drives me mad

my knuckles turn white and I don't respond

I'm ashamed

but I hope that you'll forget

that you wanted to know

but sometimes my angel

I thirst for this curiosity

and believe with all my might that you

really want to know

I entertain this quest

and provide simple, pure and direct

words, ideas, facts

so as not to insult you

then sometimes my love

I dive head first into your eyes

and spin the most fantastic swirls of dreams

out of space and time and sound and sense

and I'm not concerned about losing you

or if you can or want to follow me

because this is where I really am

where I'm familiar

for the you that will always be

This voice has spoken

There was no voice that was never heard before

because after all, what is a voice?

but a collection of words

chosen together in an attempt to share

an afterthought that is a need to express

an idea that happened in the glimmer of an instance

like every idea that's already been had

but this one managed to be caught, examined, expounded and then

burbled forth like the froth at the top of a water fountain

that becomes the desperate nodding

of a passionate old man who motions this way

for punctuating punctuating punctuating

this thought that's been formed into words

that are never sufficient to express

what he is so desperate to share

in the voice that can barely be heard

beyond the confines of his lips