My heart Is a journal With parchment pagesWoven from the ashes of a burning soulFlipping through with burnt finger tipsFrom straddling the sunAnd Stumbling across thunderous thoughts,With all the world breaking into the lifelines of our palmsWe find ourselves with nothingWe run into cages Bars that once looked like open armsWe run towards the comfortA Comforting cageBecause There's comfort in wallsJust like the comfort of stray jackets Comfort in constraintFainting into a cold wall of white paint...There's never anything greener on the other sideOnly brighter lights on the other side of closed eye lids See, light is a living transparency..Light does not give up on usIt sees through usRight throughEven when we turn to crawl into our own empty shadowsWe aren't bold faced enough to notice our shadowy sadnessThis isn't a work of shadowsNo inquiry on sadnessBut the growing shallowness of our own creativityWe are bitterAn aquired taste you would callBut not unfamiliarAnd unwinding noose knotted knees Can be translated into an act of rebellion which might have been punished duringThe great purgeOr the holocaust Or the red scareOr gorilla war fareOr the Great DepressionOr the civil rights movementOr 9/11Or the Boston bombingsBut what's rebellion in america without bloodshedWhat's change with out closed fistsWe ignore the power in an ideaYou are what you thinkAnd if I think therefore I existBut existence is worthlessWithout thought.We survive In a world of mindless Internal warfareWhere the only casualty is hope.I wish you held onto the sun as long as I didAs long as I plan toI will never turn back to an empty shadow when the light demands my attentionIf some almighty being allowed the universe to rest in my pupils I refuse to be blind to how far my minds products can disperseI cannot resist the bliss of thoughtTo thinkAnd therefore existNot merely to live.