I dug up forty five holes
With the countenance
Of a widow in mourning.
I planted you in the dirt
With the continence
Of a monk praying.

My sinful soul
Is fertile soil.

I've planted  forty five dreams
In this piece called "heart"
I've been watering it with tears and hopes
And still
Forty  five touches
Won't bring you here in my life.

I have forty five dreams where I kiss your skin
And there are forty five light million
years
Between your eyes
And mine and my smile.

There's a storm inside me
it starts every time I hear your laughter in the night,
when I think about the way we changed
from human beings
to some people who can only share
some words written on a cold page;

it's hard to explain how is it that I miss you
when I've never really had you in the first place
and you wouldn't understand
you see
your heart has long forgotten about feelings like these.

still

I hear your voice calling my name
I see you before my eyes
even in my dreams I write you in bleeding lines
and in my waking hours
your smile brings raindrops in my coffee
and tears on the shirt I wear
because once you said that you liked it;


spring brings tulips at my doorstep
but it's hard to feel their perfume
to let their scent in my broken lungs;

people tell me that all I have to do
is breathe



but it's hard to breathe without crying.

I can smell the ocean, although seventy miles away
Something in this warm scent the air creates embraces my lungs and it takes all my breath from me
I'd walk to the nearest seaside if you'd endure the trek on your blistered feet with me
The distance could never matter

I feel a forgotten feeling that starts in the top of my skull and ends in the tips of my toes
A feeling that zips through my heart like a runway train who has flown off the track so fast that no one even saw it coming

A talented sailor has made shelter in my gut and spends all his days tying complicated knots that my fumble fingers could never hope to untangle
I think he said his name was Jerry
I don't care much for Jerry

The lines on my face all created by smoke tell a story by the letters that my voice tries to choke
But I could never have the perfect words escape from  throat
Because there are no words as perfect as you are

Slip inside my mind
But be careful of what you find
Of all the madness inside of me
I'll kiss a camera into your eyes
You won't know the truth from lies
I'll whisper voices inside your head
From the graves of ghosts long since dead
Then I'll turn the dial again
Attach a virus, and hit send
Now I'm crawling inside your skin
Infecting you with all my sins
From years, and years of centuries past
You will know my name at last
Your soul is mine to keep
and, you'll worship me while you sleep
I've kissed a camera into your eyes
I'm the snake that whispers lies
I'll make you bleed until you die
Ah, watch the sky as you spin
Jam the needle once again
Colors pointing to a door
Echo voices you've heard before
Lower, lower they let you down...
Until you smell the roses above the ground.

Her life was run on the oil of synchronicity
planted in the seduction of abstract hypotheses.
The moons and ebbs of tides
Swoop in like thunderclaps
on wing'ed lightning bolts,
Capturing synergy
Wiping out energy
Till she huddles in a pile of her own failure
Tucking up her toes to avoid the floods
Admiring and condemning
The rain soaked
Howling at her gate.

The whispering waves were half asleep
the birds had gone to play
and in the trees and in the deep
the smile of nature lay.