if paradise is a state of mind,
can i hide pieces of my idealism
between the lines in your palms?

will you fold your hands gently
next time you pray
or grip the steering wheel?

or will you wash yourself raw
to rid of my glitter?

i am brain speaking through the features we both know

hello

blood chugs along like a train through the veins of my brain
giving me permission to change my motion, feel emotion
like warmth from the sun
hitting the bumps of my skin
hiding the horizon behind microscopic flesh mountains

close your eyes
see sunrise at any time
this is my religion

if clock is the only fact your body knows, say hello

picture a train pulling into the station past the snow
feel it's echos shake the loosest joints of your body
like radio bass attempting to wave the ***** of your face

stay licking your wounds and

imagine
the theory of God
as some printing press
producing repetitive lines from an expired advice column

imagine
hugs are confirming
that we're both just body

imagine
me as before and after
LiquidinOrgan and SomedaySoil

imagine
being complex enough
to have one word
to express the undefinable mess inside your chest

imagine
uttering one word
just to feel this poem

to live
to live flesh
to live flesh and forget
to live flesh and forget about it

but sometimes we realize
the weight of this machine
is the silent way we perceive
this slowing of molasses gravity
pushing down on our organs

life is just the attempt at resistance
and death is some certain stillness

confetti settled in the crease of the carpet

My hand, a guide to write and rhyme these lies
I spend my daytime stiff to gather dust
The rain will hit my tongue and it will rust
My head a silent film of stranger’s eyes
I walk across the map all wind and sighs
These human heads, balloons about to bust
The body, a vehicle for sinner’s lust
The face, a mask to hide the bottled cries

But why do we exist inside the light
So bright among the branches of my chest
Some careful kiss of guilt inside my sight
I can’t forget the day that she first rest
August’s angry moon all through the night
Awoke from slumber always facing west

                                 -

I’m caught inside my mother’s mirrored glass
Performance space where lipstick is applied
At one point every girl has surely cried
Because your mirror twin just couldn’t pass
I’d rather roll down hills and kiss the grass
A reckless rampage I have never tried
Forgetting every boy who called you wide
The girls are done with being made of glass

Living all inside is surely storm
The cranium, a sight of hurricanes
Clinging onto judgment to stay warm
Monitored to see if we are sane
Spinning through some disembodied form
No wonder they say beauty is just pain

                               -

Some sacred, manufactured in the brain
We wring out certain pain with all the lies
To chase the bits of light beyond our eyes
And recognize the body as our chains
It’s simply time to be a little vein
And love our mirror selves to feel the highs
And use our inner mind to really try
To know that we are really all the same

The matter that we breathe is priceless foam
Perspective tells us we are all alive
The pull to walk along, forever roam
The current running down your human spine
On this rock inside a little dome
I’m learning to be body, but revived

we bloom in
shapes, colors, origins
spread across the ground
that they plan to bury us beneath

invisible support
like green ghost hands unseen
we thread together
while the day holds ****** weather

congress can't
congress won't uproot this grid
because we support
all the branches we are made of

and what we are made of is unity

this is a sober honest poem
about how I can't imagine
a life without your shakes
and your verbal pictures of
earthquakes

this is a poem about
how lust is love
without friendship
and we are love
without
lust

this is a poem about
my dreams and it screams
my brain awake sometimes
about how our greatest
feat is not dying at the hand of drink

this is a poem about
the tubes of light on
rooftops in July
and sparkler breath
when we near riverbeds

this is a poem about
our need for sacred
sound and ground
and strings buzzing until
we change them with
hand combinations

this is a poem about
learning about poems
this is a lunatic
screaming about politics
through shattered glass
dead goldfish under corduroy

this is the list of names
our brains would be labeled
in the shrinks offices
anxiety ******* in your ear
all check marks
and watercolors

this is melting new shoes
on the edge of a fire pit
and screaming ****
into blades of grass
it's all asinine laughter

moonlight rises,
rolling tide in its grave

we try to balance inside our bodies
with eyes locked on black horizon

spinning circles, wearing hats
scratch our backs on green dew grasses

beer cans folding like a fan
sent to flames in reckless fashion

moss as natures velvet
mold in nostrils causing scratches

ghost of tire swing pendulums
and dirt as common ashes

tossing voices through particles
hand creases soaked in secret passions