This is a time before I remember sending death wishes to hell.
Where the walls of this house weren't constantly trying to
evict me, abort me, from the ideals of home. Eventually,
we have to know when we're not wanted, and realize
that look on their faces is pity.

This is the time between the light house and my ship.
Where the fogged air makes everyone look like ghosts,
and smells like the abandoned hopes of too many good men.
I swear to God, every time that light hits my eyes
it feels like the sun is shining, and I'm reminded of
a much more simple time; when I wasn't forced
to dictate my sanity though the amount of my rhymes.

This is the distance between my swing, and yours.
Where the words, "I love you." linger and warn me
not to use terms like "Forever", and "Destiny",
but I've got to admit that I have a hard time following directions.
Mostly because directions will never allow me to get lost
in your eyes at night when they dance with fireflies,
in open fields of interpretation, where my philosophies
become a science we used to make love through time and space.

This is the renewal of faith.

07/28/2012

Author's Note: I'm not sure how I feel about this piece. I think that it may need some editing or some rearranging. Let me know what ya think. ;)

Posted on 07/29/2012
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