Love Is The Movement

Love is the movement. Love is my movement towards being me, towards being free. Love is the movement that once displayed openly lets me feel fine, teaches others to be alive.

stories contain everything and nothing

I guess I'll always need people to hear my story- to know who I am and who I have been, to know a part of me and to accept it fully. I want to be loved; I want to love in turn.

Chicago's river seen from the train in July

the river glitters in filament light. somehow, its ripples aren't sad. I think it's possible to obtain a greater perhaps than our chance, but how do we break free of the mundanity? Do we choose our combined humanity?

Stagnation.Dread.Feeling.Crying.Felt

it's the feeling of stagnation or maybe it's dread no it's not that I don't know quite yet it's the feeling that had I been someone else I would know this feeling extinct now it's the feeling of feeling which feels a lot like crying we're old friends this feeling and I It's funny that you never see me cry and now it's the feeling of having felt all there is I need to feel and the only thing left is to get up and shout that I finally got this feeling out

when our two hearts closely pound

okay,

but I warn you I'm crazy

actually, I am

like one minute happy

the next minute sad

like one second there

and the next nowhere

cuz my life is a coaster

but I'll try to stall still

I'll try to stay solid

and hold to the ground

but I warn you I'm flying

and to me, the ground can't be found

and what if I tell you that

all that is only normal

that I cry alone in my darkened room

when my life is free of all possible gloom

and I run after midnight

because suddenly I'm blue

maybe, just maybe, I'm perfect for you

maybe, just maybe,

life wasn't meant to be normal

and crazy is true

maybe love's perfect

and it's the only ground around

twenty-seven friends of three-hundred and twenty-two

each with their own set of dreams and fears

unforgetable memories and regrets too

and yet of all of them

not even one

cares to say my name

something to cure this melancholy mood but what to do i haven't a clue a dance under the waning moonlight? at least there should be but I don't see any or a tear-jerking movie to forget my worries perhaps a singing number-quite cheery and gay no i don't believe any would serve to allay the fears that i have that i'll never be okay now don't be so serious it isn't as if i'm going to off myself i haven't dreamt of that in years but i'll never be rid of this feeling at least i haven't found my peaceful bliss not yet...

piano keys

like favorite piano keys-

untuned but pretty,

little hammers prick and play

at my metaphorical strings.

perhaps I'll still be able to

create a decent melody,

or maybe I'm just tragedy.

my only certainty is

that my fingers like the feel

of ivory keys

Worthless

As the sun sets over the cliche horizon

my fingers desperately grasp at the loss

of another of summer's fleeting days.

I've succeeded in failure; typical of my absent attainments.

Yes, I have done nothing with myself.

Why should you be surprised?

It's not like many do...

Patrick Miranda

clamors greedily at possessions

to realize no necessity

when i live with nothing but

contempt in my arms

I'll find glory

in your loving grace

if I

make my eyes windows

show my heart upon my sleeve

let the world see

that there's love free

for anyone but me

I will;I'll see