some things make me want to punch you in the face

other things make me realize i'm a better person

sometimes, these two things are actually the same thing.

up & up

he wrote

to me about michelangelo. the loveliest things would slip from his mind onto the keyboard, onto paper, onto the pavement. anywhere. he was like a bit of energy that would leave a glowing trail of himself everywhere he went. he would glow everywhere he went, but it wasn't the sort of lightness you could recognize. you had to look for it. you had to really see him. he was an unconventional bit, radiating unbeknownst to himself. beautiful things are like that: unaware of how wonderful they are. and that's how he was, unconventionally everything and unaware.

and he wrote to me about michelangelo, but not how we were similar, but rather how he connected both myself and the artist. i wanted to keep every moment in a jar. the whole time was like trying to keep sand from falling between my fingers, but being too drawn to the faintest of sparkling it made when it moved from my hands back to the ground. he was like the sand itself, i guess. he belonged everywhere.

( __________ )

first thought

alone:

can i just drink this straight?

/night

walk me to barcelona

in autumn

when the weather proves to be too cool for one

and too lonely to stroll alone.

walk me somewhere near spain

and soon

and maybe then

i can find my way across the ocean.

come quickly,

walk me till my knees are weak from

dragging this weary soul across the shore.

walk me till i have no question

of who you are and who i am not.

walk me till we see the trees

and the seas are waving lovely goodbyes.

walk me till we never say goodbye

and then...

whisper me silent love songs

when our feet are too tired to carry on.

when we near where we are going,

dear,

tell me you love me.

read me every book you've read,

we'll part the reeds and find out way

and then

sing me the rest of the way

to spain.

this isn't working

i thought

if i worked really hard at something

and did really well

i would leave feeling really good about it

and myself

and everything.

but i go to work every day

and i work my ass off

and i do really well

and everyone tells me i'm doing well

but i don't leave feeling like i've accomplished anything.

this work isn't working.

when am i going to figure out how to make this all feel worthwhile?