it's all playing in my head

a sequence of events and actions that shaped who I've become, 

and if my memories were recorded, 

i could show you, in a single strip of film

the rapture, the confusion, and the shadows 

all in those facial expressions

in my eyebrows, 

in between the lines of your eyes

the promises and the distant light

cascading down cliffs and presenting itself

in the humblest manner, 

the forests of man-made trees

and the sunsets along the mediterranean 

that pleaded for me to notice their beauty 

when beauty was a past-tense concept to me. 

you would see the moments of honest friendship

underneath green umbrellas 

and plaster ceilings adorned with stars and mushrooms, 

the moments of guilty pleasure

in the form of a leather-clad bird 

and its amber companion

days of caffeine consumption

and nature hikes to suburban grasslands

under the orange county sun

that scorched me in all the wrong places. 

you could see the passion of understanding 

in my actions, before my days hollowed out

and echoed lost love

the times when I visited my inspiration 

in a small room at the end of the hallway

just to feel at home in my own skin

and when the symphonies of new music

became a life force, 

driving me into each day

with audio images that fed my need to 

feel something beyond words.

but I feel nothing, 

and all I see now 

is a goddamn clip show.