I want to see you suffer.

I want to hear you howl.

I want to taste your tumult.

I want to smell your struggle.

I want to feel your fury.

Give it all to me, my nemesis, my destiny.

I feel so lonely without someone around to make me feel miserable.

That someone like you could exist is amazing.

The way you walk,

The way you talk,

The very aura of your presence,

Is so frustrating

It makes me rethink my concept of frustration.

Come to me, filthy wretch,And let me scream into your soul.

Hey there kid-

We had a good run-

Full of love and happiness-

But I must leave you now-

For my job is nearly done-

Hey there kid-

I'll never be far-

Just look back at all the pictures of us you drew and told your mom about in the car-

I'll always be your friend-

Even as my time is near the very end-

Hey there kid-

Never forget to keep your head up-

Always go through life with your chin up-

Hey there kid-

I'm sorry but I have to go-

There's just one thing I want you to know-

I was your best friend and you are mine-

A friendship that deep will be remembered through time.

Though I be but temporary, I am a temporary part of infinity.

I am.

Leaves rustling, crunching, floating.

Stems growing, stretching, thriving.

Worms eating, digging, squirming.

Ants building, creating, moving.

Shrooms decomposing, renewing, dispersing.

I am the grass reaching higher and higher.

I am.

Sun warming, waking, setting.

Waves crashing, pulling, wearing.

Streams rushing, taking, giving.

Moon rising, glowing, waning.

I am the stars twinkling boldly and brightly.

I am.

Birds flying, chirping odes.

Lakes thawing, changing form.

Flowers blooming, colorful aromas.

I am the fields swaying, radiant gold.

A world spinning interminably.

A universe vastly undiscovered.

Though I be but temporary, I am a temporary part of infinity.

“I AM,” I long to scream into that void. I imagine my voice echoing back to me as a sign that I am contained. But no, I scream it with every ounce of passion I can muster and it’s just sucked into the vacuum that is our galaxy.

“I EXIST!” I shout to not other soul but my own.

Day becoming night. Night becoming day.

So many times that the two become one.

Each moment welcomes new life.

Each moment in turn honors life lost.

Life begins, thrives, and ends.

Though I be but temporary, I am a temporary part of infinity.

All of this happening in an unplanned synchronization composing the most spectacular fugue ever will there be.

I am but the shell of a wandering soul.

I live and so I am life.

Though I be but temporary, I am a temporary part of infinity.

I am.

The unmistakable sound of keys being placed on the counter.

The type of surface you may wonder?

For the sake of imagination I'll choose solid, but soft wood. This way the sound you're imagining is recognizable but still soft on the ears of the imagination.

So, after my pontification over the sound of keys we arrive back to the opening line.

The unmistakable sound of keys being placed on the counter. The amount of keys would, all things equal, indicate responsibility. The more keys, the more obligations.

An aroma of soul soothing eucalyptus can be recognized upon a deep inhale. The choice of scent? An indication of someone who wishes to relax, rejuvenate, retreat or any of these refreshing "r" words. If you do not like the scent of eucalyptus then I apologize as it would be none of those refreshing "r" words to you.

The satisfying feeling of a persona being shed as clothes are peeled off and thrown onto the cool, tile floor!

Cold feet seeking warmth walk only on the palms of the feet to the floor towel (is that what those things are called?)

Small, red, painted toenails are emphasized as the toes they belong to curl tightly, enjoying the softness of the new, inviting, surface beneath them.

Green eyes. Dark green with flecks of yellow and brown close and open. A dimple following a smile emerges on the right cheek as these green eyes crinkle into a full face smile.

"Hello". A full, rich, but young sounding voice reverberates creating a chorus that's bounding off of the bathroom walls.

A small, but undeniable gap in the two front teeth is now proudly visible between faintly red lips.

Soft, straight, sweet smelling hair sweeps over broad shoulders only to be swept up and put into a bun. For the purpose of the task at hand, hair is just an obstacle. (That was a double entendre - am I referring to the task I as a writer am performing or the task this dark green eyed, sweet smelling hair, gap tooth, Full face smile being is about to perform?)

Strong, fair hands grip the faucet handle. A squeak caused by a quick pull and sharp turn. One foot tentatively tests the temperature of the water and is quickly followed by a sore, muscular calf, a thick and more soft thigh then an entire body. You don't need to know anything about this stranger to know the feelings that follow.

Contentment. Peace. Warmth. Safety.

Steam awakens thoughts.

Teeth bite firmly. A bottom lip becomes curled, red and then numb. The outside world permeates the shower. Anxiety knocks like a guest on the bathroom door. Dark green eyes close, seeking calm in the confines of the mind that lies behind them.

Can you see her? Standing there?

Can you see her?

You don't know her, but you've recognized these documented steps. You know these sounds and feelings, smells and experiences maybe you can kindof imagine this person?

You know the feeling of water rushing over your skin cleansing your body of the outside world, but do you ever yearn that this painfully hot water would cleanse your soul?

You know how it feels to bite your lip, but do you know how it feels to pick at the skin there and break it, letting

it heal and then breaking it again? The taste of blood on your tongue and the inevitable regret of giving yourself chapped lips?

Skin, not just colored by the sun but by scars, bruises and blushing, by scattered beauty marks only explorers get to discover. Does your skin itch when you lay in the grass? Do you get goosebumps easily and love to watch every hair rise?

You know the benefits of steam on a heavy head but do you understand the weight of a heavy mind and heart? Or the sheer relief found when one can release stress in this steamy isolation?

What would you say if you were looking into those green eyes?

What would you see?

Stranger, what do you see?

Courage, experience, strength, weakness, kindness, and love?

Ha! No. They are eyes.

You see that which you choose to see.

So, since I am writing you will see what I write you to see.

You'll see the green but you'll also see the purple bags lying just beneath. You'll see joy, but also such great sorrow. You'll see a scar just on the inside of the arch where the nose meets the left eye. You'll see wrinkles of curiosity and laughter.

You'll see a human, very much alive, looking right back at you with unwavering eye contact.

I could have written about anybody outside of my four walls.

They, are all strangers to me.

I, however, am a stranger to you.

My strength as a writer lies in writing what I feel is the truth, being authentic and using nice words that make people feel nice things.

Now, I hope I am not such a stranger to you.

Hello.

Standing tall on barren earth

I trace my silhouette in midnight mist

holding the breeze in cupped hands

smell the ozone scent of thunderstorms

and embrace the thunder’s threatening roar.

Flashes of lightning decimate the clouds, but

I fly with strength in the face of life’s gales.

My spirit, finally free, shall rise and laugh

at the futility of torrents with haunting breath.

I embrace midnight’s nocturnal rooms,

untouched by raging monsoons flailing.

I feel the chill with brittle breath haunting

but live deep inside myself with strength,

lined with warmth, emerging into light,

fighting my battle against the tempests.

As the drips drop, and the plops never stop,

As I stare at the serene scene from my single window,

I hear the pitter-patter and the clever clatter against glass,

A soft tap tap as it dribbles fast, in rivulets, Oh!

The soothing soft rumble and the calming cool grumble,

Of thick gray clouds lamenting and letting life come once again,

A lovely litany of drip drip drip.

Whatever you see, 

Whatever you know, 

Whatever you trust, 

Believe and show.

The colors of life, 

That make us collide, 

Destroy and create 

Something new,  

Something bright! 

We call this ''the future'', 

The art of life! 

Art is its own language with many different dialects.

Like any language, anyone who tries can learn to speak it and anyone who truly listens can understand it.

Art is beautiful, ugly, painful, uplifting, strength, vulnerability, chaos and structure.

Art is whatever you understand it to be.