pyrosam

Something once lost I found so near Something so far I can now see clear A face that seemed weary With not much to show I press up against the whites There eyes as snow Gracefully graze grace And press my face Touching Toe's and Nose Calming all my woes Being near someone Not as foreign as one would think Dont forget to remember While trying not to blink.

Sitting through the night, I watched the sunrise with blurry eyes…. Swirling in my head, thoughts that are chained, but want to run a million miles I’m lost inside with where I’m going, I used to only know it was with you Last time I checked, we were still enemies, but even the oldest tree still falls in the breeze When we were young we were vigilant , We wanted more for us Less of this world, more of the next best Less time spent and more time lent, back to pills and bottles and smoke in our lungs We’re lost in tonight; in this old emotion, Left too wrong, but stands up right And all I want to say is stay stay

What to write I’m not sure Never before have these words felt so impure Not once have I ever been at a loss for words But one hello changes this thing, of which I’m usually so sure Caught off guard A nervous laugh escapes here and there I’m speaking but not making sense My chest is open, and heart is bare No other girl has had such a lure Or a piece of my heart to share To make me lose my words With a hello, make me so nervous and unsure

I’m slowly finding out what I think it means to be a man in this modern day and age. It is not a cynical intellectual, constantly disillusioned with mankind. It is not a strong armed pusher that never gives up. It’s not even mild mannered passive support, like I see so many times in my old teachers and mentors... In fact I can't see many things that I think are examples of what it is to be a man these days. There is no shining example to let me know clearly what I am supposed to be, supposed to compare myself to. All I have are these instances, situations, reactions; all I have is this series of events called life which are somehow

At night, I see things in a different way The birds asleep, the trees sway it all flows more poetic Less like the sunny afternoon, there is more mystery this way I feel a love for all things, close, near and far Maybe its that I cant see quite so well And you always want what you can’t have In my mind I think it’s a more magical explanation This special darkness, separated from its more sunny deviation I lean with the wind and it whispers to me I feel through my feet the ground hums along Even the trees have a crackle to add As the dark earth sings its song I see the stars, the street lights and cars Maybe the earth is

I listen to music that reminds me of you Just to feel a little closer to A house does not make a home Its around those who make you feel true Usually this isn’t how people deal with their shit But still writing this…. As I sit I feel a little closer to you I feel more close to home And all my friends I associate those to Jack Johnson speaks in a happier tone that ms difranco And her punk actions They both rhym to an acoustic guitar In verses that at least for now speak to me about you Iron and wine shines a little melancholy light on me As my attention shifts from writing about you… to a little piece of me Piece

Sitting close to her underneath a young oak tree I see her lips move, but can’t hear her speak I feel my heart collapse but not sure why We are so close, but yet I’ve never felt so far apart from another human being I can see her eyes watering Mine are clearly dry I can hear her voice crack A clear sign of anxiety I feel my hair tussled by the wind My heart explodes Standing up to leave, I bear a smile She follows suit On the inside I have died She is now a friend But still has her fist in my chest On my back I took it all, I lyed Until I stop my lies, her fist stays until the end ~~~~~~~~ 3 weeks later ~~~~~~~~

Sitting at my seventh death hoping for it to end Making doodles on my paper making them amends Others sit attentively, writing just as fast They pray these words will save them, from our death to come The moments are running by, ever as fast as time They cannot move any faster, faster to keep me alive My seventh death is coming to an end So the next day I may have seven more But until that day I live freely And prepare to make it seven less than the year before