I Was Much Less Understanding Then

poetry written by myself.

City of Owls
I admit, I have favorite parts of you
Not that the parts of you that aren’t my favorites, aren’t my favorites
If that makes sense
I just have favorite favorites
Ya know?
Like the best tracks of your favorite musical artist
Your whole body is…Owl City
Your lips are “Super Honeymoon”
Your nose is “The Airway”
Your eyes are “Cave In”
Your chest is “If My Heart was a House”
Your hands are “Butterfly Wings”, yes that’s a metaphor
Your shoulders are “Sunburn”, yes, that’s a joke
And your feet are the only two songs by him that I don’t like
And I mean that
Owl City probably has more than 80 songs
And there are only two that I don’t like
But I’ll still listen to them
Just like I’ll still give you a foot massage even though you and I both know that I am disgusted by feet in general
But really, that’s a lousy metaphor
A gross oversimplification
Owl City has 80 odd songs
But you have infinity inside of you
An entire universe imploded and became something even more
Your freckles are the brightest suns in your most magnificent galaxies
I am but a humble moon, let my lips orbit them
The questions that scholars seek to answer, you are question and answer incarnate
You are the reason the Greeks fashioned gods out of people
You are not Owl City, you are a city of owls
And tigers and sharks and little mice and mighty elephants
Extinct dinosaurs and not-yet-existent variations of deer
You are the masterpiece that my hands have never quite been able to create
You are more complex than any collection of songs, any showcase of sculptures
Any painting that I’ve ever sold
You are worth more than all the riches on this Earth
You are beauty like the Earth
You make me believe in god because I believe that God resides in you
And angels too
They sing in your throat and it escapes as a conversation
Angels are not perfect, you are not perfect
But you are my favorite favorite song ”

—   H.K.H.
-you wreak of divinity 
-I’m sorry

-you wreak of divinity
-I’m sorry

save it for a campfire
a ghost?


My lips ache for your skin
My arms itch with emptiness
The absence of you
My eyes crave their fill of your form
My right hand longs to trace the road map of your veins
But requires no GPS
For it wishes to get lost
But will occasionally request that your left hand
Guide it through the scenic route
Exit signs will show the way
To distractions
I see a sign directing
To a waterfall, flowing
Over your shoulders
How I long to dive into it
And drown

and demons

and demons

Wanted: Magi

She says that I help her
But is only getting worse
And there is nothing I can do
For I never did learn how
To lift a curse


I love you more than food and drink
I need you more than air
You are more essential to my being
Than the beating in my chest