Love poem.

I like hands (especially yours).
To find the inner crevices, to trace the wrinkles, to brush the tiny hairs (while we walk hand in hand).
I've often though about my hands and how I'd like them to feel (yours are so soft and oddly so).
I want hands that tell a story (when you hold them).
Of curiosity (endless).
Of adventure (eternal).
Hands scarred, marred.
Flawed (yes, of course).
I don't want delicate hands wrapped in delicate gloves to be handled delicately with care (please don't ever handle me with care).
I want hands wrapped, unwrapped, rewrapped, shipped across states, shipped across seas, shipped across galaxies, fed-exed (to you), recieved, adored (by you), forgotten, found, sold, bartered, used, reused, recycled, composted, thrown out, discovered, and cherished (by Someone) until they fall apart.
My hands will be story hands (as we walk hand in hand).

(your fingers become my fingers.
my hand becomes your hand.
we will make a story for our hands to tell to the hands of our futures.)

Free flow

I feel a surging, a purging, its earnest
Rising from my core and lighting up my furnace.
Its on the tip of my tongue, I can taste the sun
Imparting infinite powers of one
To my one soul, through my two eyes
Solar rays in my irises tell me I’m alive
And breathing, and now the pain starts receding,
All I needed to do was shut up and stop pleading
For something, because really there’s only one thing
It’s me, I, you, her, and that other guy,
World’s collide and slide, we ask our mother’s why
It’s simple, look its oozing out your pimple
So wake up, you’re growing too old, Rip Van Winkle
Your eyes have grown tired, your soul is obscene
From too much time driving and staring at the computer screen.
Artificial lights, bring artificial frights
You’ve grown so scared of the dark you’re now afraid of the light
So calm down and put the bombs down
You’re just looking for a reason to blow it all to crazy town
You wanna know the real truth?
Or would that be uncouth?
I’m superman but I don’t need a fuckin phone booth
To change, because I find that kinda strange
To me a world where lies aren’t a surprise is deranged,
And honesty is hidden behind plates and chain mail
Layers of protection but underneath you stay frail
And weak, what is this something that you seek?
If you stopped for just one minute,
You’d realize you’re a freak,
And so am I, and so is she, and so are they
And who the fuck says that’s not okay?
Be a freak everyday of every fucking week
Look inside and you’ll find all that you seek
You’re so concerned with the world, external
All the light that hits your eyes burns like an inferno
But your pain is self-inflicted, your thoughts are too sifted
Let it go and you’ll find you’re truly gifted.
Why must you dwell in the past? That’s all it is, it’s passed
Like millions of innocent people chamber gassed
There’s nothing you can do, it’s tragic but its true
Jump to the next stone, there’s no longer one behind you
So accept it, cuz if you don’t you’re gonna wreck it
You can’t deny that lunch comes after breakfast
I’m bored with you, because you always have your chord with you
Plugged in like Neo, so stale you’ve got BO
Meanwhile I’m just waiting for you to bust your free flow.

-Anonymous Facebook friend

To a new beginning,

"Change is the only constant."