i stare out the window at what seems to be the world i was born into to serve some purpose......

time stops at the tip of my fingers and birds bleed through the sky and paint sorrowful tales across the sky's blue canvas

the one who turns my tears to ice and sucks on them in the hot festering sun under the tree that lives and breathes at the same time is not on the same ground that i'm on

....i'll smell my rose until it dies and wait for the day that i touch the face of my dreamer...my hope,,,,my sun...my stars...my essence....til then