My brave new world.
Fleeting smiles,
hand holding, halting.
With
good-byes
not so good-byes behind.
Rays stain visions and raindrops feel
different
real.
Cracks in a yellow lined road divide choices,
coin flips,
emotions,
chances,
meetings
friends
home and
what could be.

Yugo

You've done amazing things,
and I KNOW that your life has been full of happiness and wonder.
You're so blind,
troubled,
lost.
I'd like to thank you for picking me up on the side of the road.
I'd like to thank you for showing me what kind of amazing life I could have.
I'd like to thank you for sharing with me what kind of man you have become,
and what kind of man I will not.
I may not have been able to help you,
but your memory will live on in the person I have become.
I told you in the car, "most people who pick up hitch-hikers have self esteem issues and they want to help people so they can feel better about themselves."
Maybe I did help you, in some small way.

I wish you could open your eyes and live.
I hope you can love your life.
It's worth it.
I respect you.
Respect yourself
or
Fake it, if even for the kids.

If I had a million dollars
I wouldn’t buy you a fucking thing
I would climb the nearest mountain
And I’d teach myself to sing
A song for you.
A song for you

If I had a million bricks
I would build you a home
And if I knew a second language
I would write you a Spanish poem,
You know that it’s true
It’s true

I’ll never have a million dollars
Would you still love me anyway?
I quite often pick you flowers
When I won’t be around to say
Good morning to you,
Good morning to you.

Steeped Dreams.

I liked your faded dress,
your worn out shoes,
and the way you stood in the center of the room
and I really was fond of the way that your eyes never left mine
even though there were so many people inbetween, in and out of the scene
I smiled right back at you,
for the longest moment
the shortest instant of forever ever
remminiscent
of that sailor's small living room, in a half desert
/The Beatles/
where we stared for so long.

Letters.

I know that it's uknown,
I can see that it's hidden
I've yet to feel the winds that have blown
Or smell the roses that are carried with them

But when I do
I'll describe it for you.

1 Poem.

1 book.
4 hours.
33 minutes.
457 pages.
3 cigarettes.
7 smiles.
2 missed calls.
3 outbursts of laughter.
23 tabbed pages.
1 feeling of elation.