(untitled)

life
can be
a most wonderful thing
if you learn
to look past
the smog.

if it is fun,
there is a good chance
you can get arrested for it
so don't look too far past the
blinders.

at the very least, you'll
get a ticket and a mark
on your record.

but there is beauty there
beyond the pink sunsets
and white sandy beaches.

it's a type of confounding beauty
in the spirit
of
all things
that keeps the nights tucked away in
pastel boxes,
strung with ribbons and bows,
composed of fear and doubt,
garnished with failures
that end in victory.

look inside
and you will find
the mysteries
that beckon
the touch
of a
multitude of
fingers,
all probing around
for the same relief.

to really live,
you must lose hope
in the things
that satisfied you
yesterday
and find new dreams
in the coming
dawn of hopelessness -
to gain the most,
you have to
lose it all.

never give up on
not trying.
it's an improvement
on what's already
been done.

like feet wrapped
in newsprint
to keep the cold at bay.
tears strung like tinsel
in the Christmas tree
of your bones.
blood coating walls
of a new day -
this,
the filter faded
and shining the truth
beyond what
you love
the most.