You were with me.
That was true.
It happened; do not deny it.
Don't deny. Don't forget.
Leave it be. Don't touch it.
Put it on a shelf; stand next to it; and then staple yourself to the floor.
Forever in that moment is where you belong.
I can move on. You can not. You are not Allowed to.
I can scan; you can not. The field is mine. You are Benched.
This double standard is ripping us apart.
Or maybe, we're already torn.
No, we've been torn since we started.

I do not know who I am addressing
but to whom it may concern
I am concerned
I am concerned with your character
past your name, past your sign, past your shore
I am concerned
you fear death, and loneliness, and loss
Your ignorance is your downfall
Your life, companionship, and love
are open, and still
waiting

I don't know where you are from
but I reach
I do wonder
past your street, past your zip, past your block
I do wonder how far you've come,
how hard your journey,
how arduous your task
but though chaos and entropy may dismay
further on through the further, and deeper, and colder, and darker

I don't know what you've done
but infinitely so
I do care.

Money rips
fibers pulling
and snapping
valueless greenery
as it ever was

Gold melts
like the slime
of materialism

Oil burns
for those who have
burned
for it

Be eternal
because to me
you ever will be.

It's cold.
The trick to staying awake while driving is to open the window,
because you stay cold.
In the womb we are rocked to sleep in the warmth.

I just threw a sweatshirt on.
The cotton is soft on my skin,
so inviting,
I had to.

If that doesn't work,
put music on.
Sing… and loudly.

But instead my eyelids drooped.
The rumble strips rumbled,
and the car-horns blared.

Luckily, I was blissfully asleep behind the wheel.