If I spoke the language of the weather
I might have more to say
On the swirling, spinning something
Now abiding in my soul

As it stands, it might be better
To keep the forecasts off today
The wind’s a violent nothing
And I cannot find a lull.


I’ve watched the oceans ebb and flow
And greet the sand without my leave
I’ve watched the stormwinds tease me so
And reveal the air in cardless sleeves

I’ve waited for the green to fall
And laugh my grasp into a miss
Until they become not leaves at all
But symbols of me, powerless.

Policy of Truth

Am I supposed to tell you what I’m thinking
When what I’m thinking is a sin?
Am I supposed to be so very honest
When everything is caving in?
I have seen the price of honesty,
And no commandment not to lie;
Perhaps what I’m supposed to do
Is leave the truth of me to die.


It should be noted that I am one who has, on occasion, blurted things out without properly weighing them first; and not as a result of any pressure, or what people told me I was “supposed” to do, but because I personally feel it is right to be truthful. It’s just not always smart.


“It’s just a difference in philosophy;
You are right, and no one’s wrong”
So often that’s been me,
Singing the same old song.

Now all I hear is how you hate yourself —
And who am I to say you’re wrong?
Part of me is hating you;
The other part feels almost gone.

But it’s just a difference in philosophy;
Maybe, we both are wrong,
And letting go’s the only way to be
Who I wanted all along.


You don’t understand
And I can’t explain
‘Cause inside I’m terrified
Of spreading my pain

I’m standing inside
As you dance in the rain
One of us loves life
The other one just loves the pain

There are moments like this
When I think of that day
The day you were leaving,
But you turned just to say

That you don’t understand
How I waste every day
As if I’m too terrified
To find one single ray

You were my sunshine
Now you only see rain
One of us loved life
The other one clings to the pain


There is much I ought to do
But you excuse it in my meekness
Yet I don’t see myself the same as you —
I see it as a weakness

All the things I ought to do
They carry such a heaviness
But I’ve a light load compared to you
And I curse myself for weakness.


Like so many rusted parts,
Our life just never starts;
And like so much ocean rain,
We stand nothing to gain.
But still we’re pressing on,
And still we’re not quite gone;
Yet like so many quiet embers,
We are dying to our tempers.