:Reentry Status:

Curled on the bed, Air is empty but filling, Does he remember?

She is there sometimes, We don’t understand the rules, Sawyer is nice though.

Days moving faster, Total control is too much, Head feels like sleep now

Hats and tops, Beers with hops, Skin revealed, Eyes narrowed, Daily Stories, Wandering territories, Cheers with good friends, Bedtime games like parcheesi, Front and frame, Smile always the same, A picture of a dame, Or a dog in a canyon? Ridge or valley, Sitting on a lake, Or at lunch break, With a sheek new This or that, Are you a snake? Or just a lonely stray cat? My distorted desires, Based on these elevated liars, Are you human? Or a painting? 4 am glowing in my hands a World that doesn't seem to exist. Yet daily I fight vaguely an urge to conform to its checklist. Rhyme rhyme rhyme rhyme-break uneven stanza rhyme rhyme-tease off topic pause every other rhyme whoops messed it up blah blah too obvious metaphor hi I'm the narrator, deep philosophical garbage drawn to setting with mid sentence rhyme leading to long throw double rhyme whatever goodbye

Blood stains on the bathroom floormats, A glass jelly jar filled with cigarette butts, Inside out shorts and a stolen beer glass on the floor, I'm sleeping under a towel And my cat is licking a strange woman's face, I remember blue tokens and a conversation about Tolkien, I remember sexy goth pop stars and dozens of shirtless women, I remember beating myself in air hockey and dragon ball z on a projector screen, I don't remember how I got home but I remember how alive I am and it's amazing.

Three seeds in my hand; I might just plant a tree My hopes and the seasons I see Taken by smoke stacks of reality, Planetary loans, Future foreclosure, Forests on default Rivers in repayment, Love is grown in pastures Lined up in slaughterhouses, I'm running errands on borrowed timed, Plugged into my outlets Live on stream Interstates through phantom fields On my way to the border, One more second is 710 tons Of people living so complacently, But my mindful presence Is the Essence of an accomplice, No bystander alibi Or bargain plea Cave allegory or Ignorant glory, The cycle spins my mind Restless under cover No skyline will save us From the truth of our actions, Three seeds in my hand; I might just plant a tree The horizon is pink and orange If I reach the edge I could live in the margins, I could grow in a new timeline

If this rain would never stop And would carry me out of this room I would be okay with that. If I woke up far away On a salty bed of weeds, I would be okay with that, If you were there, Singing to yourself, I would be okay with that.

Why are we so materialistic? We want to grab people And fill in the space in our lives with them Like furniture, We want them to fit in To the molds, We want to own everything, Label everything, "You're this, I'm that," "He Should be like this, Why isn't she like that?" I see it in their eyes, So greedy, They have a blueprint Before they even know me, We want to take and take And never to give.

Have you ever been in a building alone at night? An empty presence lingering, But the air grows stiff, And suddenly your eyes freeze, You feel movement around every corner, But the ambience is stark and silent, Every step has an echo, Like a memory is following you, But never catches up, You turn the key and lock up, As you walk across the parking lot, There's a face in a window That you never see.

The sweet taste of a slice of clementine bursting in my mouth, The burn in my body after a good afternoon of climbing, The rumble at my feet, exhaust in my nose as I sit on my bike at a light, The warm smile on an artist's face after we've completed a song together, The relaxed soulful conversation after an intimate evening in bed, The smooth texture of a cold beer with good friends late at night, The soft comfort of Sawyer curled up next to me sleeping so innocently, These are the joys of life. Joy is what life is. Joy is purpose enough.

What is real? And what is fake? Is everything in between? A mixture of fallacies Like calico cats Spotted in stories, Constructions of the present and ethereal Am I in the fractures of your dream? Do I exist in your mind As a dream or projection? Who am I really? In the face of your subconscious? The posters on your walls, The ghosts in your halls, Like copper coins falling through the grate, Are you the dropper? Or the catcher? The forgiver? Or the forgetter? The forger? Or the fetcher? Who I am really? In the face of such tenses? Present or thereafter? Am I real? Or fake? I am the sun that rises, The earth on its wobbling tilt, I am the bats at night The birds in the morning, I am the rain on your face, The grass at your feet, I am you I am me I am everything, And I am nothing.

We're born alone, We die alone, But yet we spend our whole lives running from this aloneness, from the inner silence, We force people to be with us, Until that companionship turns into another kind of aloneness, Two lovers in a bed facing away from each other, We're born alone, We die alone, But these facts aren't destiny, They're just a start and a beginning And everything in between is active and moving, Enjoy what you've had, What you do have, And dare to enjoy what you will have, Be thankful for everything past and future, Be you, Be alive, Change. We're born alone, Creating our individuality, We die alone, Solidifying the oneness and uniqueness of everyone's journey and story.