Choking on a grape that wasn't mine,
I shouldn't have plucked it from the gardens vine.
Under the starry linen draped above,
I noticed a dragonfly nearby
sitting on a fountain watching me die.
Asphyxia was kicking in,
looking up it seemed the moon did grin.
I closed my eyes for the end to begin
and amongst the darkness inside of me
the dragonfly was buzzing free.
It left behind a silver trail,
swirling up and through the veil,
behind which I could finally inhale,
the infinite taste of wine.

Stripping down the heavy clothing worn by words,
we all stand naked in our misconception.
Ashamed of the nothing we wear in voices and faces,
covering with our hands the things we're most
embarrassed about showing, even to the ones love.
Underneath a cloak of conversation
we hide the truths that we can't share.
There are not enough words to explain what we feel
when we stand in front of a mirror looking at every
square inch of our own bodies.
And there is not enough clothing to silence the screams
of every atom in our skin when we speak to each other.

A caveman discovering fire,
he can now stay warm in the cold and see light in the dark,
It feeds him and protects him, and he does likewise.

Electricity suddenly figured out,
the harnessing of lightening used to capture the suns impressive illumination,
Dark corners seen where shadows once resided.

Neil Armstrong's foot touching the surface of the moon,
as stars swirl around him,
and the Earth looks innocent, safe, and beautiful.

The first successful flight of an airplane,
finally feeling free like the birds,
and touching the once elusive clouds.

A heart surgeon looking at a sensitive beating *****,
knowing that rhythmic pulsing is necessary to sustain the body,
and caution must be taken not to hurt it.

Like a free-falling with a parachute.
Like a delicious appetizer, entree, and dessert all at once.
Like puppy kisses, or kitten purrs.
Like looking down from the top of a mountain.
Like every single sunrise and sunset you've ever seen, combined.
Like tearing up when you see people reunite.
Like meeting up with an old friend.
Like laughing until your stomach hurts.
Like that refreshingly calm breath after crying real hard.
Like holding a *** for too long but then finding a bathroom.
Like your first cup of coffee in the morning.
Like snow, a fireplace, hot cocoa, and a blanket.
Like a flower blooming.
Like the sound of the ocean.
Like a cool breeze on a sweltering day.
Like a good, long embrace.
Like a shot of hard liquor that warms your insides.
Like getting promoted.
Like finishing a creative endeavor.
Like your favorite sports team winning.
Like a baby smiling at you.
Like finding a good book or a good series.
Like fixing something properly all by yourself.
Like finding blue or purple sea glass.
Like mail with your name on it that isn't bills.

It's probably not like any of these things,
*it's probably a whole lot ******* better.

We are so flawed,
and we let others use it to hurt us.

We are so flawed,
when our convictions start to hurt people we love.

We are so flawed,
when we feel no guilt for hurting a stranger.

We are so flawed,
for thinking emotional pain is less than physical pain.

We are so flawed,
when we want someone to apologize and they're not going to.

We are so flawed,
when we struggle to forgive trespasses large and small.

We are so flawed,
when we think we deserve a prize for our kindness.

We are so flawed,
to believe ignorance is bliss.

We are so flawed,
it turns us into hypocrites.

We are so flawed,
that we close our hearts and minds for many reasons.

We are so flawed,
and so confused about ourselves and the world equally.

We are so flawed,
that we tell others of their flaws.

We are so flawed,
we can't even see it fully.

We are so flawed,
and so misunderstood.

I am so flawed,
This is why I need God.

Torsos in windows,
dark shadows,
whispered laughter,
and a wishbone stick.
Sickly, spider trees
rustle in the night breeze
lightly.
Streetlight beams find me.
Nose growing cold.
Walking from home
all alone.

The instant I hit the pillow,
When I've done all I can do for that day,
Is when it haunts me the most.
I can ignore it during waking hours,
and then for some reason
the dark brings it to light.
I keep trying to convince myself I can do this,
but it's beyond me.
I can't fight off a ghost and I've tried.
I've tried to rid myself entirely of
these phantoms
that I also secretly long for.
An embodiment of intangible touches
tend to linger lightly.
It's hard to see details within the shades
of the shadows.
I couldn't show you.
Nor could I speak of it.
I am to suffer with ghouls and goblins
and I shall do it alone.
Shrouded in mist
mysteriously.
I don't just hide skeletons in my closet.
I hide decay.
I hide desperation.
I hide faces.
Facts.
Fact is I lie,
I yearn for,
I remember,
over and over and over and over and over
I remember.
Repeatedly replaying real life events.
This time around I can pause,
play,
rewind.
s.l.o.w. m.o.t.i.o.n.
still frame.
You've become nothing but
a specter to me now.
Looming just barely above my senses.
You no longer possess form,
so all you can do
is pass through.
I can't even touch you.
It gives me chills.

I swear I'm not a Munster.
Don't leave me provolone.
When you asiago away I really Swiss you.
It makes me bleu to watch you leave.
People keep telling me it'll get cheddar.
I'm feta up with going to havarties.
Queso, maybe tomorrow will be Gouda.

I will shove all these letters,
all these vowels
and clever
spaces
down
your
t
h
r
o
a
t

*******,
eat my poetry.
Chew it around in your
mouth
before you swallow
all the
*******.

If you spit it out your dog
will eat it off the floor anyways.

today i made love to a gorgeously golden woman high above the ground.
she gave me great warmth and her foreplay made me smile.
sweet and hot like cinnamon-sugar.
a chocolate covered chili pepper melting all over my skin.
somewhere coal shoveled into an engine burns the same color she releases with her essence.
almost like a dragon, her breath scares me and protects me both,
but fails not to wrap around me the aftermath of billowing smoke.

You look so warm inside the rays,
I watch them as they dance ballet.
Across your face they pirouette,
until my every worry, I forget.

You kiss each other playfully,
blissfully unaware of me.
Glowing in the afternoon,
Your golden skin, it makes me swoon.
I'm far too mesmerized with you nearby,
watching days pass within your eyes.

You look at me and
I become the hours,
seconds, minutes, it overpowers.
Blinded by a solar flare,
ignitions in the air,
burning all around,
wishing the sun would never go down,
Slow down.

You stick around to watch the sunset,
I start to become a silhouette.
It's getting dark,
until your laugh lights up a spark.

A fire growing on the inside,
Shadows run and hide,
darkness can't survive,
when you're ablaze.

You're a star from outer space,
Rising up to interlace,
the human race.

This I always knew,
is what connected me and you,
and we're connecting all of us.

Call it trust.
Parts of you that can't be seen
illuminate the heart of me.

What is my everyday life but a struggle
to learn more about what I know?
After all that, at the end of the day,
all I know is that I know less
than what I thought I knew.

At the end of all major discoveries
I find more inquiries.
Lies laying in truths,
and both are so muddled
it's difficult to see which is which.

What you need to know,
VS
What you're manipulated into believing.

To the point where you cease to question anything at all.
Either for for fear of what might be learned,
or pure ignorance that you're being lied to.

My hope, my prayer, my passionate plea
for the world, for us all, for the human race -
is that we never ever lose our questioning nature.
Our drive to discover, to uncover, and to learn,
has to continue for us to endure.

I fear a day when this desire will be silenced in many.
Blissfully living shrink wrapped lives.
Carelessly carefree, carefully contained.
This time is near.
Or is it already here?

We must have faith
that some hearts can never be silenced,
some minds can never be tricked.
That some people will
never let our lights go out,
never let our originality be taken,
never let our freedom die.

Things can only be off track for so long before you train yourself.
Where are we going?
That keeps coming up in small doses.
What potion am I concocting in my head?
There are other ingredients as well
but they aren't base notes.
Accents actually improve my senses,
and since when do I create my own specific brand of tears?
They're scented almost like a perfume that smells
not a **** thing like the beach.
You know what they say,
"Life's a beach."
In a small way it's accurate.
Living and oceans.
Life and seas.
I see life.
I make waves,
and function as the tides
always pulling away or pushing towards.
Towards or away
towards or away
towardsoraway
make up your mind,
are we coming or going?
Should we ask the moon while we dip our toes in the water?
Wading for an answer while he first addresses the stars.

It's a start.

Heathen!
You breath in
sin!
You blow out the walls.
Heathen!
Knowing life
is a free thing.
You never paid
the ferryman -
back you came.
Half dead heathen
barely breathin'.
Stuck in the limbo
between life and death.

The flowers still smelled quite sweet from her garden at least.
Aromas rose up from beside the patio, lingering under her nose.
Warm all around, in the air, in her skin.
Something cold clutched her conscience, made her bones shiver.
With nothing to celebrate misery waits.
A lonesome porch swing the centerpiece for mourning,
sways lightly at the breath of phantoms.
Looking forlorn into the yard, all was hidden by mist.
It seemed the proper atmosphere to finally release her tears.
The night played tricks upon her eyes, conjured figures in the dark.
For the sake of her heart, for it to carry on, she will believe
a ghost wiped away everything while she cried.

You blink your blind eyes in my direction,
my moving mouth is momentarily muted,
someone off in the distance can hear
nearly as clear as if their ear were right here
between us two.
Aware of our wordless shouting affair
carrying body language through the air,
assured of virtues demons once whispered
into each soul upon ones arrival.
Surviving key instincts to whimper and run
when you were too young to notice the snakes forked tongue.
But still you can hear nearly as clear
as if your ear where right here
beside the serpents softness.
Only to discover scales covering
and spreading along the parts of your body
which still remain hidden beneath the cloak you where made to wear
by the maiden whom named you the name you were called
by the same demon who created
what you
intrinsically
are
inside of
your very
darknesssssssssss
it hissed
and kissed you goodnight.
You awoke here.
Right here.
And nothing is nearly so very clear here.

At work things blow up
no they don't

I have no job
and things blow sideways

uʍop ǝpısdn sǝɯıʇǝɯos puɐ

Nothing is nailed down except
the required scratching post.

NEW
TYH
OHR

Measle gamblers, weasel hamburgers.

Clouds don't hold much weight.
Wait for an airplane.
Plain as day.

Trusty I musty - for I have not wings.

But feet. Feets of feat a foot of foot to measure worth in length of walk.

I find that the more you protest
the more they seem to think you're possessed.
So convinced it's of devilish brood
for you to scrutinize spiritual tools.
What blasphemy to think that this gate beyond great
holds so much more than what's been written!
Yet I am certain you cannot crack the code
just by cracking the binding of your Bible.
My resistance would have you conceive
that in the highest glory I do not believe.
"Not so!" I shout from outside the chapel.

How do I explain myself without opening my mouth?
My words have lost their merit within your house.
They altered form inside your ear,
so that what I might say is not what you hear.
If inquiry is deemed a sin
how can acceptance ever begin?

The God that I see is vision unseen!
Such a figure unlike you and me.
He did not have a pen to write down his thoughts,
and perhaps with his prophets a translation was lost.
Could a man,
even a man in Gods graces,
fully comprehend a deity's oasis?

I'm not saying that there is no God!
What I mean to convey is that man is not all.
We are not the end and the means and the project.
There is more to come, other books to written,
to believe He created all this just for Christians...
That cannot be correct.
God is far more complex.

Blue sky moon
awake so soon.
Why are you here
just a bit after noon?
Across from the sun
a tragic tale has begun
of the love you both must share
up there.
Unaware of the unlikelihood
that you'll ever truly meet.
Over a million kilometers
means the distance matters
and all that space must **** you.
Blue sky moon,
it's too bright for you here
but it's alright,
stars are near.
Though they must be just
a constellation prize
while the sun yearns for you,
it burns for you.
Blue sky moon,
I'd love to say you'll be together soon.
but this is untrue and a painful a view.
I'm sorry.
Time is cruel to me too.

I usually want to kiss you when we part ways
not because of anything serious
but because I enjoy you
and a kiss at the end of your company would be
almost like the punctuation at the end of a sentence
It just belongs and no one really notices it
nor is it trying to be anything other than what it is

A perfectly logical way to come to an end

Chances are you would understand this yet I never act on it
because I don't want to come across like I'm trying to turn
a simple period into a bleeding heart...
That wouldn't suit either of us in a very flattering manner
for it seems to me we are both untied and unbuttoned

The upside of this effect
is that our experiences remain open ended
On the downside my days with you usually feel
noticeably incomplete

It'll be okay.
No it won't, I ruined everything.
You really didn't.
You hate me. Everything *****.
I'm sorry.
Me too.
But why? Just hold me.
Hang on...
She hates me.
I'm sad.
I don't feel good.
Smoke?
Okay.
Do this! Help me!
I'm at work again, but yes.
I love you, anything you want, anything you need.
Take, take, take.
What about me?
She's busy. It's okay. It'll be okay.
But now there's screaming and I'm trapped.
Everything feels scary.
I can't move. Or speak. But I have to.
I'm making things worse.
You're waiting.
I say the wrong thing.
We boil over, the *** and the kettle.
Foam and steam.
Frothing and violent.
Panic is so easily contagious.

Your words
seasoning my wounds
and shriveling up like salted slugs.
Foaming at the mouth
like a tidal wave
full of rage
ripped from a rabid sea,
ripe with redemption.
Oysters spitting out pearls:
A calming beauty,
an elegant innocence,
provoking upturned snouts.

Go to the store for roast beef
and then go home.

"Did you count our hours?
Tally up tick-tocks?"

No.
The tick-tocks ticked me off.
I cracked.
I cracked glass faces.
Keeping track of mantles, walls, and wrists.
Time is so human it's creepy.
Watches watch you.
Hands move wiser.
That ******* glass face again
and this giant thing
looming in the corner is not
anybodies grandfather.
Trying to seem friendly while
it all slowly steals your life away.
Losing trick-track of our hours,
over and over.

I am left with this impression of deception,
stamped upon my own misconception.
I miscalculated when I walked out the door,
how many nails from my coffin were sticking out of the floor.
I tripped on them as I made my way across the porch,
and then had to run from your pitchfork and torch.
I see it now when I look in the mirror,
this monster looking back couldn't be any clearer.
But even Frankenstein was just scared and alone,
so let thee without sin cast the first stone.

Right now "sorry" is too loaded a word,
to be even slightly properly heard.
I don't need forgiveness I just want some slack.
I want to stitch up the knife wound I left in your back,
but it sure does make sense that you don't trust me with sutures.
I only hope you can again in the future.

I never did mean to turn into a liar,
or set my own pair of pants on fire,
but no matter how hard I want to put it out
there is no water during a drought.
I walked across bridges in these same burning pants.
Of course they collapsed, they stood no chance.
I've exiled myself to an island of fire,
and as I look around I think...I deserve to die here.

Betraying your trust hurts worse to me
than a burn of the worst degree.
I just wish I knew what to do to fix it,
but this isn't something I can patch up with a tool kit.

My dear girl, when will you learn?
Yearning for things does not bring them.
You start from square one over and over again,
like attraction is hopscotch.
That game was fun when you were a child,
but you're older now and should know better.
Remove your heart from your sleeve, please.
It's a fake.
Taped on and cut from red construction paper.
It's the wrong shape.
Simply a repeating pattern.
A garland of garnished emotions that were never real
strung out across your entire timeline.
Old habits die hard
but love is not a hobby.

There is something I have to offer in my right hand,
Extended forward toward you.
Before you decline take a good look at it,
Consider it’s weight,
It’s balance,
It’s value.
I offer you this as a gift void of bribery,
Though a strange gift it may be.
Presented in it’s purest form,
No wraps or ribbons
Disguising it as anything better or
Any more exciting than exactly
What it looks like.
Specifically for you,
For no reason,
For I rarely dabble in logic lately.
Left to your own devices
I assume you’d pick my left hand
Which holds nothing.
Which is exactly what you want.
Which is fine with me.
I don’t want to give you anything
Anymore
Anyways.

Sounds like the Sandman is some sort of creep,
who puts dirt in your eyes while you sleep.
Also, I heard...that he sleeps with the sheep.
You can count on him to sleep deep in those sheep.
So yes, he's a creep,
and he lurks in the night,
but he isn't bed bug
and he'd never bite.
You will dream sweetly
and sleep extra tight.
When you awake you'll have crap in your eye.
A weird little gift,
from one strange little guy.

If asked what I had done today
There's not much I could really say.
There were some routine things in between
But mainly just this one dream.
In my minds eye all day played
Some memories that have begun to fade
Where I get to kiss your sweet little lips
And trace your body with my fingertips.
It seems too good to be true
I almost don't know what to do
When images of you
Wont stop flashing through
Like a projection
Of perfection
On a reel
An unreal filmstrip
Teasing my other senses
Senselessly.
I take it back, it's too intense.
If you only knew.
Except you cant ever know.
This is just how it goes,
it usually keeps on going
by
From time to time
I'll write a rhyme
About a pretty girl.
Maybe talk about her eyes
And how they hold the world in sparkles
I look into and marvel.
I haven't said yet
A word
About how yours are hazel.
It's nuts.
An appraisal deems them priceless.
I wonder if today they were
a more green or more brown likeness?
As I completely drown
In
Them.

bits of stardust,
   that's all we really are.
oxygen,
   carbon,
hydrogen.

   at the surface of it all,
a velvety overcoat.
   bacteria inhabiting every inch of us.
600 particles of skin flake off each hour.
   you cant be all dead.

dig below the surface.
   45 miles worth of nerves.
hands,
   feet,
tongue,
   and lips.

ninety eight point six degrees Fahrenheit.
   on some level, we all inhabit the same skin.

what we do on autopilot.
   oblivious to the staggering task we leave
to two gelatinous orbs.
   spot and track what we desire.
hungry harvesters of light.

   hear and balance,
where we are in space.
   orienting brain in three dimensions.
up-down,
   left-right,
forward-backward.

   we wouldn't last
more than a few minutes
   without breathing.
ingenious multi-taskers.

   heart runs the show.
it's the boss,
   with the brain coming in at a close second.

and a highly coordinated series of f
                                                           a
                                                              l
                                                                l
                                                                  s

If you think you're about to read something nice
think again.
This is the worst thing you've ever read,
written by the psychotic alive.
It had to be clarified he isn't dead
because he's actually rotting under my skin.
Oozing out like moldy cheese left in the sun,
sprouting hairs and covered in *****.
Everyone who looks at me pukes on me,
violently.
Getting it in my eyes, and up my nose,
until I choke on it and suffocate.
Dying repeatedly in a murderous loop
of zombie corpse mutation.
The third time dying makes me hungry,
I smell food in your bedroom.
Crawling across the floor in the dark,
you cant hear a sound,
my phantom ghastly body secret.
Underneath your bed I will be waiting till you sleep,
the moment your eyes close out I will peek.
Stare at you in the dark,
grin down upon you,
in shadow.
I am famished,
you look good enough to eat.
Everyone wakes up at the first bite,
screaming as blood splatters across the room.
Rip your voice box out while you're still awake
and kicking.
Reach my hand right down your throat
and ****** it.
**** your eyes out while I'm at it,
they're gooey and delicious.
Human beings are nutritious.
I work quickly yet painfully,
your nightmares should
be afraid of me.
I'm coming after you...

That was fast, right?
I knew it wouldn't last
much longer past
that one night.

Talking to a close friend
I realized
my tendency to disguise
a dead end.

These feelings have no origin
and I know not where they go
so quickly afterwards although
I'd welcome them again.

Short bursts of affection
often zap me like lightening
only far less frightening
when shot in my direction.

To care for a soul
however briefly
carries me through life more sweetly
and makes it seem more whole.

Patience is a virtue,
it's too soon.
I won't shoot,
I'm holstered.
It's a moot point,
point blank.
Thanks.

Where are my manners?
Managed to stick myself between
a rock and hard place again.
Not a bad spot if you're a lizard.
Not a bad shot if you're cold blooded.
You didn't check the scene, now it's a crime scene.
I've seen this all before,
and yet it seems to get
darker each time.
Maybe it's finally getting to me.
They caught up to me,
my demons did.
They hid
within my skin, hungering.
Taking control
of my limbs, and I'm fumbling.
Mumbling phrases of praises
erases their faces.
Slate clean but shivering.
Deliverance is chilling
when your captives kept you warm.
Be forewarned not to enter their house again.
They will tempt you with fire,
and so you must
build a hearth
within your own heart.
Feed it your own breath
to keep it burning
while the world turns.
Yearning to be at the center
of something you can't quite remember.

Oh, beautiful stranger.
Stealing my focus.
This silent torture of
everything ever left
unsaid.
With strangers a lot
is always left
unsaid.
Voices shout from within,
screaming songs of my longing,
the magic of your impression.
Echoing and bouncing
off the walls I'm encased in.
Oh, I've never uttered
a word of sincerity
to a beautiful stranger.
If I could only bring myself
to say, at least,
"You're beautiful."
Stealing my breath and my words.
You strange and beautiful thief.

Go to sleep, stop doing this.
Stop ignoring the night.
It can see you.
Maskless in it's own dark,
watching you
Wide awake, rebelling.
Stirring up noises that
slice through the required
hours of quiet.

No one lives through the night,
and lives to tell about it.
At some point the barrier breaks,
and out bursts
comets, meteors,
darkness laced with
the celestial bodies of the stars,
contrasting.
Expanding and contracting,
rolling towards the center.

You are the center.
Magnetic you.
Growling and howling wind,
ripping through space rock,
comes closer.
Shrapnel spins in wildly
from all directions.

I see you trapped in the whirlwind
spirals from space.
I am the infinite night,
throwing satellites,
digging black holes,
blinding you.
Submit to me.
Give in to me.
Sleep inside the universe,
where it's safe.

Floating across a river of blood
in a pool of massacred dreams,
ripples of hope.
The water runs red because of the plague,
to remind of the good and warn of the bad.
Undesirable outcomes
of the ways we've been behaving.
I wanted to take a dip in that forbidden stream
before all this happened.
To watch it run clear and catch flickers
of light across it's ebbs and flows,
like someone had sprinkled glitter into it.
I wanted the beauty,
even though I didn't know how to swim.
Never had I been within something so
natural and crisp.
I was willing to drown if it could wash over me,
and make me feel as connected as it seemed
to everything around it.
How could this be considered erroneous?
It seemed peaceful...
Until lives were slaugtered on its banks.
Others who felt the same,
our kindered hearts,
we wept into the deep opaque water.
Water none of us knew existed until we saw it.
This same small creek,
that I had never been emerged in,
was now a scarlet current infused with tears.
Ripples from the sobbing rain are what remind us,
that it is an ever moving entity,
with a mind and a song,
and will filter itself someday,
with a slow, harmonious bubbling of purification.
I can wait, and let time heal my subtle rejection,
because now I know what I want.
I want to swim in this elixir of life.

The moments right after I cease to sleep,
are filled with thoughts of you.
Awaking in a morning haze,
when not much else makes sense yet.
The first imagine I can recall,
is a hopeful one of you beside me.
As I lay soaking in the new day,
I realize you aren't there.
That as much I'd like to greet today,
by stroking your hair out of your face,
I'm short-changed by the inconvenient truth.
Somewhere in a place far away,
too hard for me to reach,
is the girl of my dreams,
lingering in the clouds,
of every morning after I sleep.

Slowly becoming the worst possible version of myself,
the ghost of Christmas past looks at me from every angle,
in disgust.
All the phantoms are just different types of me,
with different core functions all rubbing up against each other.
They're just trying to set fire to the original one.
Smoke her out.
The person who was once a child and believed everything
that made the world feel like it was full of white magic.
Convinced that there were fairies in the yard,
and that there was always a friend running along side the school bus.
There was, too, once another girl and a little older
who found out that she could draw,
and that when she did so a passion would hold her mind and her hand.
Her world introduced her to music and she sang,
only alone and loved it.
She has only ever sang alone,
so it was impossible to hear her real voice.
That's when the girl she was went away,
and hid.
Got really good at hiding, from everything and behind it all.
This fool with tired eyes has no right to use them,
doesn't lift a finger and yet yawns at the first sight of dawn.
Yawns in the face of the sun all day, and whispers with the moon,
all night.
Microwaves every meal and eats the radiation like a beast,
because there is nothing natural about her anymore.
She has become the same plastic that she uses and abuses,
and is suffocating inside her own demise.
There are slower, much slower ways
to end your own life.
Dying is a threat to live life when life is treating you with death.
It scares those who can't bring themselves
to rediscover their own core.
The white magic.
The child.
The hands that had passion.

Anger is such an ugly shade on you
the brightness of it's redness
it's burning, hot warning is hideous
Envy is such an ugly shade on you
the murky green, like suffocating algae
and it's dingy, jealous frown is disgusting
Sadness is such an ugly shade on you
Or not ugly but pathetic.
With it's dreary, gray blueness
and the color of your tears
They make me want to slap you
Gold is the color you should go with.
Spirit is gold, a heart of gold,
the golden gates of heaven
and your shiny golden teeth
whenever you smile.
Wear it often.

Pettiness, pity, pathetic abuse.
Loosen the noose.
Truth,
beautifully unsound and unsung.
Among few,
under moons,
wax melting,
minds meld.
Flexible clay forms formless and formally known
by
first
and
last.
Formerly born then you die.
Fell from mouths when questioned why
departing hurts so.
Tell all I'll see them mañana
or soon enough.

I miss you even though you haven't left yet
because in reality you've been gone the whole time
and why should I miss someone I barely know?
We feel like a ball of yarn, to me.
Tangled up enough times
to have acquired a few knots.
I'm going to be thinking of you, over here
because you weren't just a body to me.
Hopeless romantics shouldn't have flings.
The people beneath the skin are too much,
too intense and too real to ignore,
when you've never had an aptitude for distance.
Never been strong enough to hold much weight,
with your words.
Tipping the scale by putting
a heart of gold on one side,
and fate on the other.
Adieu.
Thanks for the company,
and kisses.
And thanks for reminding me,
not to get stuck here,
if there are people like you,
plane-rides away.

Leeching, latching on
*******, bleeding dry
Knowing, what goes on
Laughing, while I cry.

and all the mighty words,
that sank when I fell down,
are rising up again,
with no translation to be found.

they're crashing into chairs,
stumbling into fights,
chewing through my eardrums like
hungry termites.

when you stop tryin' to fight it,
you stop tryin' to hide it,
they know all about it,
and you got nothin' left to lie with.

This collection's so chaotic.
Oddities, all of us.
We ought to be audibly
deliberate more often,
rather than offensive.
Ostentatious all the time,
hard as nails,
hammering me down.
***** you, tool.
Driving around like you own the town,
but the car your only possession.
Possessed by the poison and gasoline fumes.
Light up another ****
but the air thick with vapors
threatens to blow you sky high.
Maybe next time around the block
try to be the good guy.

There's a toss up
  in the air
and it must come down
it must.
The choices are trust
with the crusts cut off
or *** with your clothes still on.
A dried up ******* in a
a small room with a broken door
there's something to decide.
  and I decided I don't care
except that i always do.
With a myriad of moments
dosed in darkness
vague shapes fail to excite
a detached heart.
Beating while it beats,
fighting while it feasts.
  It's in the air,
permeates the atmosphere
but never could it do that here.
With an altitude altered attitude
how's the view?

It may be it's maybe too hard to handle,
or to understand.
Truly you'll take my pain away? My worry? My doubt?
Having only other mortal souls and bodies to compare to,
the gaps are vast.
There are chasms in my truths.
Perforated facts.
Even moreso sometimes it merely seems cruel.
You've been through enough.
What good could it possibly do to have you
bear the extra burden of wretched, unrighteous us?
It should be uplifting that you be so strong for me.
It is rather, and yet sometimes I find a hint of sorrow
in my heart.
A dash of guilt in my subconscious.
You, Keenest Eye beyond any measure of the sky
hide not I from it.
Observe my wandering wonders, oh wondrous one.
Let me behold.
Beautiful, of the light and the love peace abounds.
Sorrow, never to reach such a plateau.
Not ever to be but only to know.
To feel fondness for ever.
For so deeply my heart wishes to grow
as close to you.
A soul as sweet as fruits from your own garden.

Am I all good?
Can you dose me?
Ease the main pain
taken hold of me.
Broken me -
holding myself together
without choking me.
Falling asleep now,
and as I come down
I slip up on a dream.
Trip myself awake,
tripping on whatever kind of medicate
is flowing through my veins
and jolting awake my bones,
snapped like a candy cane.