XI : Dual-Author Poetry.

"These days are passing easily
and I can feel the weight of things I once knew
falling across my chest
these days are falling lazily
and I can see the places that I once passed
the time on my wrist
catching my eye as i count
the time it takes for me
to breathe again
taking life in contest
fighting through the arguments, between my
eyes, and logic, and blindness
i find myself fumbling
searching for an outlet to arrest you
someway to pull closer to today
and out of tomorrow
anxious and worrying, at times can be
so taxing
the frequent frantics of passing memories
of you standing by the sea
with fish in your hair
sand in the air, a foreign place for
it to be, mingling with passing dreams
closing my eyes, the lids are mine
I project onto my present
resting in things I know, silent consistencies
dormant lies the time, when nothing's
moving, perhaps the ideal, the idea withheld
in its prime
these days are passing hastily
and with it come my thought
the extinction of you and me"

"Pull back the summer set
frequence and wonderment
deep arrest is not your best
and sunsets upset
this space between
unoccupied by anything, anyone
i can feel it more than our distant touch
theories and thought paths
bend through the recent past
familiarity apprehends
I try for something else
a hand that I can handle
I try for boots and leather belts
a wealth that I can wear
and I can hear the sounds
of people moving in their coats
moving across my mind, a scraping thought
or two
the snag of the irresistible
at least to some one the scratches
are irreversible
but are at least tangible
your eyes my everything
at least all of me that I can find
everything to me
nothing to see
perhaps somewhere in between
the space that echoes back
our distractions
the incompatibility of forever existing
the hospitality of never persisting
so passive, so aggressive, aren't we?"

-Justin and Lauren