It seemed like a good idea at the time...

Take a second and remember--
All the reasons we had
Are what?
The when and where are gone,
And so are we.
And a week away without
Is the light I needed.
I hate it
When I'm right.
Give me an error,
Take away the calculations,
ACT, SAT, AP Acronym
Cannot help me here.
Occam's Razor strips away
Reason, meaning.
What is the value of friendship?
What is the factor of happiness?
Where is the guide, model,
Lock-step cause-and-effect standard
Equation?
Is all this even necessary?
Essential?
I am writing this, so
Yes.

---------------------------------------

As I am blind,
I have reason to make a request--
A matter of perspective, if you will.
I saw--
In my mind, mind you--
A thing that I believe can be defined
As color.
It is not the emptiness of darkness
Or the image of light pressing on me--
Yes, I can detect light,
My eyes are not that far gone--
And yet...
I saw it.
And nothing like it.
And I know it exists
In your world.
Tell me,
When people speak of green, for instance,
What is it?
It is grass, I know--
Thin blades, springy, living--
And it is also, say,
A couch.
Hideous, ugly.
It is nonsensical how colors
Can be so many things,
And yet it isn't.
But--
And here's the problem,
The thing I've been trying to get at--
I saw this color.
I can't ask what.
I can't describe,
Can't compare,
The many things I have never seen
To the one I have seen.
You see?
(Ha ha.)
I am sorry.
You can't help me with this.
I guess I'll just have to let myself
Wonder at the meaning
Of color.

---------------------------------------

It's hard to tell
What to tell.
I see a fine line, if that,
Between my silence and yours;
I dare not foray for fear of overstepping,
So I do not speak.
My silence is mine,
Even if the end is the same.
Nobody speaks.
I can at least pretend
I have alternatives.
I know the cure will come eventually
In silence,
But just once,
I wish you could be here.

---------------------------------------

Why do I keep returning to see
This chasm where the hopes of man
Are cast so deep?
I cannot feel joy,
I cannot feel right
In such a Godforsaken desolation
And yet I do.
Do imagined needs draw me?
Is it that I find peace here,
And harmony?
I am afraid
Of what that means.
And when I stand there,
I can hear the dreams crying out
In death.
I listen to their story,
And they are mine.

---------------------------------------

And when we see the faces
That we thought we knew in dreams,
What has become of us?
Is it the mind that shapes the world,
Or the world that shapes the mind?
Is that even the question?
I knew you better in sleep
Than consciousness,
And I hear from you more often
There, too.
I am a thief of your entity,
For my benefit,
Though our realities barely touch.
Everything I take,
You do not miss,
And yet I am a thief.
Unintending,
Unbidden,
And yet
I am.
Dreams are a shadow of reality,
And reality a shadow of dreams.
And where am I?
Real?
Sometimes I wonder.