The minutes strum away like sour starlight lost amongst the world, gone forever; black and white films in slow motion. And the trees collide under a sapphire sun stroked blanket, filed and organized in the suburban prison; clean air that keeps me from breathing and wide yards a grassy cage. But one day you and I will run forever, on pebbled beaches instead of mini-van streets, sailing through stormy sand to start our life, finding a place to call our own.








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A landscape of winter grey and you dress me like a sunflower, against what is written, what is known. The bricks that break through plastered walls, letters sewn to notes, stringed together out of beat. So we leap in a finger locked wind together, a train to spin our hearts away until our dancing feet are numb, kissing our arrival in a station where we belong.








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The city lights and dawn’s flickering break are tuned in simple harmony, so we’ll never be shut out. It’s our core, the essence of our journey, an instinctive path of rebirth and relearning to save the worn out yesterdays. And though we wrap ourselves in lives too small and clothes too big to fit in to, in each word I write there is a promise. We have made it there, so let’s make it ours.