Sight for Sore Eyes

A beauty, so rare, so seldom seen,
shall, upon its sight, give thee reason
to believe in the far, the in between,
to love, loving season by season.
Pray thine eyes behold such a sight,
and keepers: ye will find it within.
Love, loving thyself as no other might;
live, living as thy own inspiration.
For in the end, gravity doth prevail,
and all shall hear its deathly wail.

Suteki Da Ne, by Nobuo Uematsu

Kaze ga yoseta kotoba ni
oyoida kokoro
kumo ga hakobu ashita ni
hazunda koe

The wind, like a heart that swam
in the accumulated words

The clouds, a voice that was shot
into the holding future

Tsuki ga yureru kagami ni
furueta kokoro
hoshi ga nagare koboreta
yawarakai namida

The moon, a shaking heart
in an unsteady mirror

The stars, gentle tears
in an overflowing stream

Suteki da ne futari te wo
ori aruketa nara
ikitai yo KIMI no machi
ie ude no naka

Isn't it beautiful to walk together
in each others hands

I do so want to go to your city,
your house, into your arms

Sono mune
karada azuke
yoi ni magire
yumemiru

That heart,
held within your body

In those confusing nights,
I dream

kaze wa tomari kotoba wa
yasashii maboroshi
kumo wa yabure ashita wa
tooku no koe

The wind... its halting words
are a gentle illusion

The clouds, the broken future
like a distant voice

tsuki ga nijimu kagami wo
nagareta kokoro
hoshi ga yurete koboreta
kakusenai namida

The moon, a heart flowing
in the clouded mirror

The stars, broken and swaying,
like tears unable to be hidden

Suteki da ne futari te wo
tori aruketa nara
ikitai yo KIMI no machi
ie ude no naka

Isn't it beautiful to walk together
in each others hands

I do so want to go to your city,
your house, into your arms

Sono kao
sotto furete
asa ni tokeru
yumemiru

That face,
a soft touch,

Dissolving into morning,
I dream

10 Things I Hate About You

I hate the way you talk to me

and the way you cut your hair;

I hate the way you drive my car;

I hate it when you stare...

I hate your big dumb combat boots

and the way you read my mind;

I hate you so much it makes me sick;

it even makes me rhyme...

I hate the way you're always right;

I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh,

even worse when you make me cry...

I hate it when you're not around

and the fact that you didn't call;

but mostly,

I hate the way I don't hate you...

not even close,

not even a little bit,

not even at all.

What Am I?

Wicker, wicker, give to me
All it is you wish to give.
I will keep it, you will see,
Close to heart, long as I live.

Wicker, wicker, take from me
All it is you wish to take.
Here is where I’ll always be,
Always giving for your sake.

The fact is thus: give or take,
Know that you may surely trust
A holder, of wicker make,
To keep inside what I must.

DNE

I realized something theoretically significant this early night; I love when I come upon these realizations, for they grant me a sense of enlightenment. Every single one brings me one step closer to ridding myself of this box, wherein my mind lies constricted.
I abhor, like most, being ignored; I see it as a combination of rejection and negligence. The fact that someone would disregard a verbalized or technological communication is disheartening, to say the least. The annoyance and qualm prone to present themselves in situations between the ignored and the ignorers stem from something we all possess: fear. We are afraid of being neglected, being rejected, because these actions chip away at our existence, that existence we cling to ever so dearly. To rob one of such a fragile, irreplaceable thing would be as cruel a crime as murder. Actually, that is exactly what it is. Whenever someone intentionally brushes off something I say, it is almost as if I do not exist for that moment... almost as if I've been murdered, gliding around the world now as a spirit, and even if I were to scream, no one would hear me.
To go on living unheard: that is what scares me.

You're

A kiss from a rose,

petals strewn across the floor,

hardwood, like your heart,

cold, as you're

Cold-blooded thief,

steal my lure;
now, catching net-less, catching

nothing, as you're

Nothing, like a black hole,

blackened by your char,
falsely igniting our love,

loveless, as you're

Seasons Come and Seasons Go

How lonely a flake
The first of many to fall
The boy is awake

Smiling a smile
As the greenery grows
Happiness a while

Steal the boy’s sunshine
He has much to give away
But, here is a sign–

A wilting leaf weeps
Telling of loneliness
The boy again sleeps