more than anything

i’d sit in the greenery

while it wraps up to my knees

and you’ll speak in unfinished messages

and we’ll all glisten with a shining aura

and a mask of invincibility.

the epic drag of nights past will diminish

and bleed out of our pores

as we gaze towards the sun

and

burn white holes into the picture we perceive.

there wont be any eerie waves of emptiness

because the grass will grow into our bones

and flow in our veins

while we feel the soothing abrasions from the

scalding black top beneath our feet.

it’ll warm our souls for eternity

and we’ll feel every heavy word

enter our minds

in different shades of color.

we can find contentment in ourselves

as we scream for an eternal happiness

that fills our lungs with every struggle for air.

surviving will become more real

and will heal our aching bones

and pluck the embedded thorns of regret

from our numb eyes.

we’ll feel whole.
we’ll feel whole.
we’ll feel content.
we’ll feel whole.
we’ll feel real.

the sun will radiate

an incoherent essence

that blesses our eyelids.

we’ll bury the bullets that we kept

on our nightstands

for a rainy day.

i’ll feed the flesh of my sorrows

to the once rabid creatures who lay

in the river banks.

they’ll engulf it like

it once did to me and i’ll

throw my mistakes downstream.

in a hot town house

on the east side

we built a fort upstairs

in the middle of summer

and watched movies

and drank Canada House with tea.

it was lovely,

the essence spilling out

in waves

as the sound of the birds chirping

echoed through the window

and we dressed elegantly

and cooked a fancy meal.

family dinners.

*** and orange juice

while we cooked.

and smooth jazz while we ate.

i haven't felt that alive

in quite some time.

i got a job

i have no car

i’ve got chaos

and on the verge

of being an alcoholic

here i am

nostalgic.

half alive

never asleep,

you either.

on the bathroom counter

on the floor

with words crashing to the ground

the nostalgia.

no more birds in the morning

no more rain

and the chaos

it’s so beautiful

like the most traumatic sunset

where the sun sinks low

over the water

and you’re free

the song on repeat

i wonder how i’m

even alive.

why

i still choose to

wake up by your side.

like an undercover darkness

raging against the mass

of reality

bringing me to a medium.

everyone knows

everything goes.

so infinite

in the haze of

the sun

like children

with guns.

at any minute

left to bleed out

for the next flesh

to cleanse.

no more waves to

wash

away the insanity.

when you’re gone

i-

when are you leaving

my god

go before the snow.

the foliage

is like an open wound

ripping wire

through my throat

i need to go.

i stay up hours after you
so i don’t have to listen to you breathe
very long
after i lay down

i’m frustrated
with you
and the way you move your mouth
and
your skin, your crawling flesh
one-track mountain-******* mind

i stay up late and listen
listen to the coyotes howl in the distance
and i realize i love it here
and i realize i hate it here

you stained my room
with your scent of ***** clothes
and you’ll be leaving soon

and all I’ll have left is
the smell if filthy socks

and you don’t care anymore.

Can you see it?
The cold in your breath
the quickness of your steps.

I don't feel the animals sound
in my ears
anymore.
But only the eyes in the trees of fear.

Don't you want it so bad?
The sound and the flow
of the world breathing.
Another body's dead
from the fathomed snow

"So isn't time fast?" I ask
to the howling wind at my window

Did you feel then,
how you do now?
Is this nonsense making you proud?

The clouds of agony engulf the sky
the colors die of thirst
and the cats don't come home from time to time,
all the people I know are committing a crime,
and our pockets can barely hold a dime.

There's nothing there
for a person to love.

A cold hope
that only seems accepting
and possible
with the dream weavers
giving courage to the day.

As you inhale
and surely know
you're burning your body

and there's got to be
a reason

or two...

A lonely blank page
Awaiting love and attention
no idea what's to come of it
and ****,
those pages
are
just
like
us.

Life was playing swiftly
like a car wreck.
And people
were muttering softly
about all those hot,
sweaty,
smelly,
*****, summer nights
drowning in beer and
unruly speak.