Sing me a berceuse,
Sweet melody abound,
In your astral glow of your effusive vignette,
Play with your celesta sweet
beguiling with evocative speak

Turn with your astral glow
abound with pungent, redolent snow
and gaze at the symphony
before you

Sing in sweet felicity
Joy you bring,
Serendipity,
Asylum you bring,
None shall come,
but the brave warriors who
knock and question.

That tapestry,
Red, Black, Gold
A Celtic Circle--
silently bearing witness
to the proceedings
of that smoky room:

The aquariums--one with
the large eel who seemed
to barely fit the tank
that took up half the wall;
and the smaller, vibrantly
colored fish in the
aquarium with the eggshell
colored coral.

The remixed music played
at a comfortable volume,
by the DJ we knew
so well, together;
as many times
it hardly seemed like
he was working at all,
as he just sat down and
talked to us, for hours.

Looking through
those over-sized books of
old advertisements,
and explanations of
historical artwork;
discussing the contents
with strangers,
who became friends
in the process.

Smoke billowed, enveloping
the atmosphere and filling it
with the smell of many spice
racks, pleasantly rolled in a
shell of a soft breeze
flowing from the oscillating fan.

The smell of joy,
of a relaxed sense of mutual
understanding; that it was okay
not to say a word, because the
atmosphere did the talking
for us.

We just enjoyed sitting
on those red pleather couches
that your **** sank back into,
not allowing my feet to touch
the floor; so they often just
dangled, legs swinging
to the tempo of the music.

As I took a hit
of the hookah,
I manipulated the smoke
into O's, puckering
my lips, trying not
to laugh as you
gazed at me in a
shy sense of wonder.

That face always made you
want to kiss me.

Roaring in my ears,

Fire in my soul,
Deafening, all consuming, treacherous:
The violence with which my body trembles
is enough to make me want to collapse.

Every nerve in my body is raw
raw to the synapse,
down to the electrical impulse that jumps
the gap and creates
a chemical that induces
some kind of process
that I have little control over.

Happy, sad,
Lust, love,
Confusion, pain,
Pleasure, resolution:
All just chemical reactions of the brain to stimulatory catalysts.

There is no light at the end of the tunnel;
for there is no tunnel.
Yet if there was, I would be too afraid to travel through
the dark to get to that supposedly
Desirable end.

Electrical impulses that control every thought,
every feeling, taste, touch, smell and
how they have an effect on us.

Simple yet complicated beyond understanding, and yet we breathe,
Continue our lives with only the faintest idea
that we are controlled by the chemicals contained within us.

Perplexing. Deeply thought provoking. chemical producing.

Each individual jelly-belly
jellybean in a clear bag
tied with a red wire
is so different from each
other individual jelly-belly
jellybean in that clear bag.

The one that I find,
without fail,
without fault,
is always the one that
tastes like black licorice.

The sticky, overly sweet,
bitter black gunk that junks
up my perfectly good bag
of jelly-belly jellybeans,
and I am never paying
enough attention
to catch myself
before I pop it
into my mouth,
unaware that I will be
receiving: not cotton candy,
not coconut, nor cherry or lime,
but a black piece of bitter-sweetness,
whose taste always seems to linger.

Why do people readily believe
When you tell them:
There are 7 billion stars
but check when the paint is wet?

Fall and I'll catch you,
No need to look back
over your shoulder,
I'll be there,
I promise.

I used to be indecisive,
but now I'm not sure,
I do know however
My intentions are pure.

How come sand is yellow,
Why is it that when you draw a tree
it always looks like broccoli?
Why is it that when I eat broccoli
I always imagine it to be
a tiny tree?

I munch delicately
on this green leafy
thought nugget,
tasting each sprouty morsel,
savoring its saged wisdom.

Your lips are firm
yet supple to the touch,
the electricity that pulses
it just feels like so much

So much feeling in a single touch
and I sigh and clutch
my racing heart
as it beats and beats
and beats apart
from the rhythm of life,
as my soul imparts

The wisdom to me
that I already had
I wrote it down
on my little scratch pad:

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
is just to love and be loved in return"

Options
for the beggar
that hath seen no
light
Takes what she pleases
and finds delight

Hath not the beggar seen
her fatal flaw?

The beggar is but a beggar and
not pleased at all.

For if the beggar were to see
that her situation is but irony,
She then doth partake in sentiment
whose cracked joke is eminent.

Never fear for the dear beggar
is near and does not realize her folly
She trips and skins her broken knees
yet does not board the trolley.

For the trolley will take her away to see
What she has so fatally lacked
the experience she needs to grow
and grow a bone in her back.

I need smoke to clear my head,
to fog the brain that needs unclogged,
a draino of the mind,
snaking its way into my conscious
imagination

Past the gates of the unconcerned,
entering the territory of the learned
and scholarly,
stepping onto the path of resurrection,
reliving the life that was meant to pay

Sipping the juice of incarnation,
revitalizing the soul,
drawing a blank is not an option
as the red hot coal burns
through my ill-intentions

Mechanical reactions
slither through the cortex,
Binding our beliefs into
a solid jellied mass.

The peons go without a care,
wisdom is not their share,
only to be appeased
in the short term
is their game.

Yet the one who dances freely,
Gracefully fluttering down the walk,
gets stared at and gawked at,
Ridiculed and mocked.

The program
does not recognize the patterns
that are involved,
and the programmers are just too vain
to change the program's
stiff and rigid brain.

So while the programs interact,
the dancer keeps on dancing,
sensibilities in tact.

She notices the patterns,
the snide remarks behind her back,
the stares, the whispers, wonders,
of the program's capacity cap.

How she wishes just one
free person could truly understand
what it's like not to be a robot,
but a compassionate human.

Seas of judgement, seas of motion,
Seas of jealously and hate,
motivated by confusion,
in this altered AI state.

One day there is a person
walking out of sync,
the rest of the people shrink away
from the lone independent freak.

Free thought and new ideas
Are poison to their wires,
new data it can handle,
but independence acts like fire:

Burning through the program
like an arrow with a purpose,
piercing through its hardened heart
rendering the program worthless.

The boy who parted the sea of monotony
found this dancing girl,
and together created a barrier
shattering programs with a twirl.

By the power vested in me,
I command you to think,
Think twice about your actions
or you will find that you will sink
Into a sticky, jellied mass
where your thoughts will cease to think.

So, why is it that life seems to go on without me? It seems like I miss the bus because I hesitate with almost every decision I make. I always try to calculate every possible angle before making a choice, and I take so long to do it, that whatever opportunity I might've had disappears. Or, I make the wrong decision and pine over it like a dog licking its wounds.


When it comes to things I should think about before I jump into them, that's when I don't think. I just do it. I think that route is more risky, but I can't get past square one with the first option of thinking it all out. On the other hand, my decision-making process doesn't have to be dichotomistic either. There are more than two ways to think things through. I think it's just been really hard for me to find a balance because I tend to go back and analyze the results of my actions regardless.

Needless to say, I second-guess a lot. and third and fourth guess. Indecisiveness is one of my weaknesses. And yet, if you take me shopping I can be in and out of 10 stores in an hour and come out with exactly, and only what I went in for.

sigh

Emotional/life decisions are where I have problems. People can't help make those for you, and you have to deal with the consequences because you're the one who chose to put yourself through it. Maybe that'll be one of the things I'll get better at when I move off to college.

So many shifting tiles under my feet that I'm not sure where to step. If I second guess, the tile under me may shift and I'll fall. But then the one that I jump onto may also move before I step onto it.

This seed
this tiny little acorn
of a dream
sits in my pocket
as we wind ourselves
down this winding path
of intimate dreams

Your fingers laced in mine,
and I take a side glance at your confident stride
your face glowing with that smile that lights
the darkest of nights
and you look at me with those eyes,
those eyes that climb into my soul and hug me
from the inside out
and you tell me that you love me

Dear Love,
Even though you
are not here next to me
your presence lingers
I feel you when I go to sleep

Your scent lingers
when I move the blanket
or roll over on the sheets
I miss your warmth
as I curl up into a ball

Anticipating
your soft embrace
pulling me into your chest
My face snuggled
comfortably at your collar

I drift peacefully off to sleep
knowing that you're holding me
that I am safe

I miss the way you look at me
when you tell me
how much I mean to you

I miss the way you laugh,
the way you kiss,
the way you breathe

I miss your vitality for life
your spontaneity
The way you love me

I miss your face,
your hair,
your body,
your hands,
everything.

I won't be able
to go to sleep
until I hear your voice again
and I will wait impatiently
for the day I'll see
your car in my parking lot
to come to visit

I miss you, Bear.
And I know you are as eagerly
awaiting seeing me as I am you,
and know that it is probably
a more intense nostalgia
for you,
you hopeless romantic,
but who am I, as the ***?
to call the kettle black?

I'm rambling as always.
Call me soon,
I love you
~Your Angel

Pouring a glass of skim milk
and squeezing a bottle of
Hershey's chocolate syrup
into the glass,
until the last drop is drained
from its wheezing container

Watching, as the chocolate
settles at the bottom of the
glass, creating a barrier
between the creamy ivory
and the sticky, rich brown.

Taking a spoon
and putting it in the glass,
stirring up the milk and
forcing it to take on
the identity of the chocolate,
the spoon clinking merrily
as it churns two very
distinct substances
into one entity:

The milk with the
brown sugar coating,
Allowing for you
to think for a moment:
the skim milk
doesn't taste so bad.

Vivid depictions
of street corners
with glaring lamps
lighting only
a portion of the walk,
as you stroll in and out
of the spotlight

Flashing glances
from strange passerby,
as they shuffle on their
daily commute to
wherever it is
they are going

Sitting Straight,
upright in the
blue chairs,
in the classes
that come and go
and leave no more
of a mark on you
than they did
before you stepped
in the room

Flashing Lights
from the neon sign
as an advertisement
for the bare skin
& money &
alcohol that just
goes right through
you in the end

Forced smiles
for the customers
who are not buying
anything, but insist
that the prices
are lower, that
You have no idea
about the products in
your own store, and that
you're wrong

Simple Connection
between one person
and another, the community
created between one heart's
compassion and another's
misfortune, sharing in a bond
so undeniably deep
cradling the essence of
humanity in the folds

Dear Diary,

Why does life seem to wrap you up in a cup of madness
then tip you out and watch you spill
the contents of yourself
onto a cold and muted tile floor?

Why, dear Diary,
does everyone expect you
to react perfectly in every situation
and robotically fix and tweak and mutate?

Diary,
I am not a machine.
I can't bend this way and that
at the same time
without breaking.

I can't smile a smile
that I don't believe.

I can't,
and I won't.

Diary,
You have so forlornly sit in the back of my mind
gathering dust and termites and grime
I can hardly speak to you at all
for my problems you cannot solve.

Just a lended ear do you offer
A lonely penance for my coffer
To spare a word a thought, some grace
to be able to pick up my forlorn face.

I look into the ***** night
so hateful and full of spite
Reprehensible rejection cease
as it knocks me to my knees.

Dear Diary,
I do plead,
Save my soul
or else I'll bleed.

The clouds of curiosity
fluffing up like pink cotton candy,
the kind you get at the county fair.
A blooming pink fluff of a sugary
capacity, to fill your mouth
with the most desirable thirst
for lemonade that you've ever had.

Allowing for the sweet granules
to melt blissfully on your tongue,
savoring each and every sweet
morsel
'til you don't even realize that
the pink fluff is all gone.

Then you are riding on a perpetual
rush from the sugar
seeping into your bloodstream
aiding your curious adventure,
seeking as the lights from
the Ferris Wheel tantalize.

The fear of the top of the ride
worth the rush on the way down,
the people seem much smaller than
you expected;
but the rush,
well, the rush speaks for itself.

Pan left and zoom in

on the corner of my mind
Disentangle the heartache
and Reassemble the pieces
of time

Pan right and zoom out
to grasp the bigger picture
a muted pink surface reflecting
a distant past
Swept away

Never had I imagined
the burn
that resides in
the pit of my stomach

You cause me heartburn,
But there's no stopping it

That burn, that need, that desire
Is what keeps me from
falling apart

I don't want to get burned
but when playing with fire
there's no way to stop

The flames keep on rising
and I'm burning to the core
just keep getting closer
There's something
I want to explore

Tipping on the scale
of an emotional torrent
Sipping from the cup of
an evocative song

Doing what you do to me
is a wave of frustration
pounding in my unbroken heart

Feigning, Waiting, Testing, Saying
How do I begin to tell you
that you make me melt?
That I look for you around corners
anticipating your face, your breath,
your smile

Zipping up my pocket
of emotional recall
Closing off the opening
sewing up the hole

Hoping that you don't see
don't hear, don't notice
that I can't let you in

I stumble then I fall
into your arms again
Trying to stay away but I can't
seem to resist the attention

That you give to me
Your eyes are so deep you see
that I drown in your gaze

Slipping into an emotional tyrade,
Trying to keep my head
from going under
Trying not to drown to resist temptation,
But failing so miserably bad

I can't stay away for a moment
without hearing your voice in my mind
Tossing and turning and turning away
I Turn right back
To the very first page

The one I can't bear to look at
Yet look anyway

Twirling on an oil slicked floor


Faster
Faster

Never stopping to see for sure

Faster
Faster

If what you want is the cure

Faster
Faster

For your pulsing heart
Faster Faster
Growing close
FasterFaster


STOP


as you slip
and your feet
are no longer
beneath you
and in slow motion face the ground
beneath you
and it swallows you up
the darkness intruding
on your vision
closing in
on your dreams
as you slip
past the incongruities
of destiny and fate
of love and lust
of passion and gentleness
and all
Is Still.

Can't sleep
These dizzy thoughts
spinning ceaslessly
relentless
in a cup

Half empty,
Half full?

Who knows,
But in the end
the mad hatter will
still wish you had
never been born--
A very Merry Unbirthday to you
to me?

Indeed

Round and Round
they go
mixing colors, textures
emotions, thought
into this smear of humanity

A stain on the background of my mind
as it clicks and whirs and calculates
the options, the weighted possibilities
the electrical impulses zipping past
the smear of confused, muttled anguish

through it, around it,
but the shock cannot
seperate the colors
the textures, the emotions,
the thoughts

The colors melt into grey
various shades of unvarying
reluctant gestures

As the cheshire cat
smiles and laughs like
the cookie crisp mascot
cukoo for coooookie crisp
I hear its laughter

Chuckling madly
at the mad hatter and myself
the mad hatter sipping
out of the cup of grey
as he sings about my unborn nature

Unborn into the world of reality
of sensibility, of responsibility

WAKE UP

I snap back
I look around
and do not recognize
anything at all

I reach for my heart
and find that it's not there
there's a space where it used
to belong with a note
left in its spot

"I've run away from home
Please don't expect me back
any time soon. I do love you,
but I feel safer in the protection
of his arms"

As I set the note down
with a soft sadness
I hear
a knock
at my door
Snapping out of my anxious gloom,
Rushing to the door
expecting it to be my heart
returned to me

I open it...
but instead of my heart
I see his, his heart
reaching out its arms to me

I pick it up carefully,
cradling it in my arms
it seems to beam with
a warm happiness

It notices the hole
where my heart once was
It motions towards it
and I explain that my heart
had left me

His heart seemed to smile
and gently nestled itself
into the hole that
my own heart had left
completing my
circulatory system
pumping my blood
feeling my veins alive
with strong vitality

As I am a part of you,
You are a part of me

Scintillating communication
between strangers as they
magnetize the words together
into a stimulating story of
strung together words:

While every sailed bridge sweetly floats under evil
I do best sitting at peace.
One lived as some had fallen,
Steal the King's singing & beg him to sing louder
Knowing Ocean's rising storm as
Gentle music should drift so people can hear it whisper.

They found their beach of spring after the river
Coming against these cruel spinning mountains of the night skies,
We still use hate, though most don't go by this road.
He drove towards a forest,
Though he stumbled out of it empty,
For it all lies beneath our art
as looking naked plays only until
two can love each other.

Were none welcome except us?
So as they went off to sleep,
hearts beating thrice to the beat,
jumping to the new rhythm unseated by the synergy
created in this magical space,
While I may question who you are,
We suffer from searching,
each more affected than the other
by the wandering.

As I sit silently,
Observing my room darkening around me,
Hearing the muffled murmurs of passerby,
I wait for the clock to strike upon the nine
for that is when I will be fulfilled.

There is little light
save for the fading light from my window
and the light by which I write
these musings seem dry and empty
of the vigor and posterity of my past.

Austerity and harshness replace
my normally warm and delicate features,
and even my writing feels estranged from me.

My hands that were my hands
do not spring forth a wealth of creativity;
stifling darkness surrounds.

Wallowing is not in my nature
as I remind myself,
and yet here I still lay.

Panic strikes me
as I realize that
I'm alone

Alone for the first time--
and I don't know
what to do with myself

All these people
Insistent beeping, buzzing,
rolling, shutting

My collective mind
Unraveling
Before my eyes as I have
No one to talk to
to
Connect
with

Floundering
thumbing through
my contacts
to find someone

Anyone

To make me feel wanted,
to feel that my company,
even if through a phone,
is wanted, that I am
desirable

As I fold in on myelf
the Layers turning inward,
eating themselves--

The waitress leans down and asks:

Is everything okay?

I respond, muttering:

mmhm.

It's killing me from the outside in
you know...

But I don't say that

As the layers fold,
the only thing that remains
is a scared little girl
just as frightened as she was
the day she opened her eyes
underwater
and looked around
and realized how eerily
vast and deep the water was...

It still scares her.
It scares me.
And I realize
that the one thing
I can't stand more than
Anything
more than death itself:
is being alone.

Why?

Because when I am
alone with my thoughts
That vastness
that deep ocean of nothingness
bathed in a burning, purified chlorine
Haunts me

Because I cannot fill it,
not even with the deepest of thoughts,
the most vivid sentiments
Cannot satisfy the depths
of the reflective blue against
a slate of unfeeling cement

That time I stooped
down really low to the ground
just to hear where the cricket
sound was coming from,

lingers just as the smell
of the wet grass in
springtime when it's
a vibrant shade of green
instead of dead shade of brown.

That time that we pinky swore:
"I'll go if you go",
untamed matted hair flying
through the wind as we ran
as fast as we could right up to
that hill and tucked into a tumble,
rolling like over-sized armadillos
down our very own
vibrantly green
nature slide.

That time we were at
your house, and the permanent
markers were begging for us
to pop off their smooth shiny caps,
as our Barbies relaxed in your
Malibu Barbie Pink Sports Convertible.

The makeup and tattoos
in red and vibrant green and blue
that graced the hard plastic skin
of their smiling faces
never came off.

Take me on this summer afternoon

Sizzling heat cooling off the soon
related factions of the precipice in
my mind

The underhanded broken chains that
whisper in my sleep
that choke me as
I unknowingly gaze into
the face of eternity

Melting together the
bonds of society to my broken
identity
to them this is nothing but
a game

Corner street societies
smokingly gaze at my uncomfortable
place as I try to wriggle free
from the grip with which
they are holding me tonight

Is the night
Such a beautiful night
and they call it
Bella Noche

Undistrubed and peaceful bliss
Wrapped in a bacon strip
greased up in oily fat
that will be eaten by a docile cat
that has no inclination to think about
these things
that bind him to his master

Look up to the sky:
It's still the same,
On the surface at least...

Look closer and you'll see:
the billions of planets moving round
Celestial heavens to which we are bound
Moving in an elliptical sea
Wrapped up in universal intimacy.

Blanket of stars:
Tuck me in,
Wrap me in your woven dreams,
Spill me into a cup of steam.
Crossbeams of light gleaming through
that dark blanket of deep blue stew.

Soup:
Carrots, peas,
celery, meat,
potatoes, beans,
simmering heat.

The heat from which this poem flows
through my mouth and out the window
into the ears of the passerby
fluttering into houses nearby.

Houses:
connected by a single thread,
we are all here together
until we all are dead.

Living:
Vivaciously
until that day I will greet the
blue, rolling sea.

In the company of a turtle,
By the light of its heating lamp
contemplating life's lessons
and feeling that heart tug
in a place deep down

Slipping sorely into a
sleepy state of sentient syllogisms
as logical as a bat sleeping under water
Distractions abound

Eyes heavy as the body begins the process
of hibernation while the brain fights
fervently for its moment in...

Relatively senile
the memories in my mind
fade as new ones replace
the broken past

Watching the lovers
as they stroll along
the rainswept streets
of connected
bliss and dischord

Looking around
at the silence
tasting the futile attempts
like ashes on a cold day

Feeling
the chill down my spine,
my quickened pulse
as you enter the room

Eyes brighten
as they think of you
Ever so noticably
Slipping into a drugged
state in which coming back
isn't a desirable option

Poetry laced with
an intoxicating poison
slowly saturating my senses
blinding faults, impurities

Grasping at clarity
and finding none
only your arms
folding around me
pulling me deeper into
the abyss

And when you go into your room
at night
and no one is left for fear of a fight

And no one speaks and no one comes
to call on you when all is done

No one sees and no one cares
when you break down
They all swear
that it was all your fault,
They shouldn't need
to feel concern
while they watch you bleed

They simply pass you by
another day with another blue sky

They don't feel the pain inside
Oh woe is me, friend that won't confide
Silly, my fault for not speaking,
Who wants to speak when hostility rings?

I won't confide because you don't care
Seldom do you even dare
to pick up your head in an honest hello
or even pick your head up from the pillow

Of the couch,
Obnoxious and blue,
I sit too far away from you

To engage,
to be willing to sit
to tolerate your insipid
complaints, you ***...

I can't help that
we don't get along.
I won't be here for much too long.

That is the only comfort I have to offer,
the only penance for your coffer,
the only tidbit of advice,
I'll be gone before you know it
So deal with the dice.

You're 5 foot 6 inches,
you know, not the 5 foot
8 inches that you claim
on the face of your
Texas driver's license--

Your hair was long
and curly then, and so sunny
beach blonde that you
could have walked right
out of the ocean and--

Right, thinking about
your driver's license at 6am
not having been to sleep
isn't what I should be thinking about.

But it is.

Sitting on the cold grass
today makes my stomach
hurt. The sun that would
normally warm and greet
my dreary disposition
only keeps the wind at bay
long enough to play the
jacket game:

Pulling the sleeves of my
royal blue petticoat
with ******* buttons,
onto my arms, shimmying
it until the collar rests
at my neck, as a makeshift
cheaper Snuggie.

Then as the sun peeks out from
behind the clouds, warming the
ground, I'm shuffling off the rolled up
blue sleeves, pushing the jacket into
a heap at my feet.

Draining,
Draining,
into a pool of oil.

Slipping down the slippery ***** of solemn awareness
of the fact that I am slipping down a slippery *****.

Oil slicked, no friction, no grip.
Get up. That is an order.

I can't.

Why?

Because every time I move,
every move I make
puts me right back here into
this pit of slick, messy, dark stain
that cannot be washed away,
That's why.

Get up.

I told you I cannot.
I have no means,
The oil is heavy and thick,
like molasses,
it's thick and slick, and slimy.
Help me if you want me up.

No.

Distracted

by the flying thoughts
within my mind
as I think fleetingly
from one thought to
the next...

Not really stopping
to analyze or put to the test
What did I have for lunch today?
Is he worth it?
What's due in class tomorrow?
When am I going to do it?
I have to work...
I miss my mom
I love hanging out with my friends
that light is really bright
I think it's giving me a headache
Christ, I'm tired
No, I don't want to listen to that song
This one's better
Why is it so cold in here?
Why is this comforter so hot?
I really should go to bed
My mind is reeling
I wonder if he likes me
I think I might like him
But it's complicated
Math is complicated
I'm taking a math class next semester
I hope it's easy
I'm hungry
I think I ate all of those chocolate things that he gave me...
Yeah. Yup. Sure did.
My mouth is dry, and my head itches.
Now my back itches because I thought of my head itching.
I wonder if it'll even work
Worth a shot I guess
But what about...
no.
That won't work.
That was made clear.
Oh well. A loss isn't the end of the world.
I wonder if the end of the world really is 2012.
If it is, I want to conquer my fear of heights before then.
I should have a better goal than that before the end of the world...
I'll have paid for a **** load of schooling for no reason...
sigh
yawn
I should listen to music
It calms my mind
writing helps dump my thoughts onto paper
Welcome to the random discertation that is my mind
Once upon a story and
THE END.

The steam billows onto
my contemplating face as I
Think
about the consequences

Distractions will not allow
my mind to focus on a
single
thought

My heart and my mind tugging
at one another, the song
ironic
playing in the background

Sighing with relief as it changes
to something that doesn't
apply
to my direct life situation

The new song is catchy,
pulling me from the
depths
of my inner struggle

Tapping my foot to the beat,
But slowly slipping back into my
contemplative
far off
stare...

It boiled out of me
like a sharp harpoon,
pinning me to a wall
of certain destiny.

Swimming in the fate
I thought I had
tipping into a jar of vanity.

The transitioned lenses
seeing past and future
concurrently,
Shake their heads in protest
with confidence to be feared.

What makes one doubt,
to question the path of inconsequential,
Who gathers the berries
and decides which are sweet
and which are bitter?

Only to taste is to know,
to experience and to feel,
to revel and relate,
to touch and know.

You have always thought
since you were a little girl
That all you had to do
was do a pretty twirl,
and the world would fall
into your pretty lap
with your fancy silk cravat,
and your simpering sighs.

You. Make. Me. Sick.

Twirl little girl,
If you may,
To twirl and twirl another day
in your fancy house with your sparkling jewels,
they're what you call 'bargaining tools'.

Of pearl or diamond
they're not made
lasting not in the rain,
Melting sugar, simpering dew,
puddle at my feet,
adieu, adieu.

Your quiet disposition,
offering a distinct proposition,
Your eyebrow delivering
due suspicion as it
raises in question.

That look
so hard to deny,
as I sway my hips
sauntering towards you
methodically, calculated
like a pendulum on a
grandfather clock.

As I reach the edge
of the bed where you lay,
knees following behind my
hands as I crawl towards you
on the smooth,
navy blue sheets.

It's not an electricity
but a hot pulse
that I feel, as I lay
my head gently on
your chest, as you stare
at me:

Like a predator
stalking his next meal
casually, as he allows the
prey to come to him.

Then you stroke my
hair with such tenderness,
pulling my body into
yours with such care

Knowing that you would
be more than content
just to be able to hold me.

Feigning sleep,

that creepy creature of the night
as it sinks into my bones making them
creak with exhaustion

Awaiting the telltale buzz of a phone at my side
to hear his voice,
to be ushered into sleep peacefully
and loved.

To feel that warm delicate feeling
touch my heart then to radiate from
the inside out
like kind tendrils of vines
craddling nature's child as she sleeps.

So he warms my soul and calms my mind
Love so deep it makes you blind
and robs you of reality but in place of it
offers a sweet sub-reality,
A blissful get-away
My own personal vacation.

Then you sweetly set my feet on the ground,
Bringing me back to reality,
But all the while holding my hand.

I answer the phone

and say hello

as my heart soars.

Sharp angles

pause for the greater effect
of the picture being portrayed
by the puppets who ensue
the damage

Jagged lines
lay still and juxtapose
the sharp angles
in an entangled
bounty of emotional
mess

Arches
sweep across
bridging the destruction
with the emotion and
create meaning
while

Color
brushes itself along
adding a dimention of
clarity and purpose

Circles
which are there for
no reason at all
do not even realize
they are a part of the picture
but pretend that they too
contribute

Texture
pops the colors and the lines
and gives them a realistic
tone and quality

People
who look upon them
do not see the beauty
or the grandeur
or the time
or the raw emotion
or the painstaking amount of work
or the love
or the hatred

They see sharp angles, jagged lines, arches, color, circles and texture out of context
with the world they see,
and so: they see nothing.

Sitting in solemn silence
all around me the deafening roar
of thoughts flooding through
my mind

Heads bent over their work
as they contemplate the
significance that this will even have
ten, twenty, thirty years from now

Looking around and seeing
stress on people's faces
as they sit and wittle away
the fifty minutes of
fluid time

Twiddling their thumbs
the equivalent of me
here
writing this poem

Bland revising conversation
with an overtone of educational
******* wrapped in a blanket
of disconcerting melodrama

Whispers of unfocused chatter
and my mind wanders lazily
from one thought to the next

Conflicted as I should be writing for
another purpose
to complete an assignment
that I couldn't possibly
care less about

Oh the joys of institutionalized
education
and yet
the irony:

I want to become
a part of it
in order to remedy
its imperfections
from the inside out

My heart soars
Through open doors
As it climbs
into yours

My soul glowing
radiantly
the brightness showing
and I see

I relish it in it
and it makes me whole.

The drawn anticipation
tip-toeing on the tip of my tongue
I can taste scintillating titillation
of action
of resolve

Slipping slowly into this
vastly unorganized state
of solace and  servitude

Bound by the beautifully ironic
Brush of fate that has brought me
to you

The luscious laments you utter
so lovingly
lap at my conscience
like a lap dog in the life of luxury
oblivious to anyone else's needs
but its own
as I languish the morsels lain on the
cold, wet floor

Freezing as my heart flutters
feverishly to fight the frivolous
attempts to win back the love
that frightens me now

Never doubting,
Nor noticing the imperfections
that nag at the niceties performed
eloquently in your presence

Putting my progress
on hold, while I become
less and less patient
still trying to understand
why you're still with her...

and I'm still here.
Loving you.

I've made my decision
now let's play roulette
I'll take the black
If you take the red

Watch the ball spin
past colours that blur
My eyes follow
while my vision obscures

Thoughts whir
as the dial stops
dancing with death
as I hear the gun pop

I close my eyes
waiting to die
not this time
though my end
feels nigh

The barrel makes
a menacing sound
as it goes around
and around and around
and around

Where it stops nobody knows
In its chambers
my heart echos

It aches
it pumps with ferocity
with vitality and fervor
Counting down the seconds
'til it utters its last quiver

Standing boldly
laying down
crunched up in
womb's position

This is where I started,
and So shall I end here.

Tick. Tick. Boom.

Thank you for coming along for the ride,
Take your seat sir or madame,
Ride in style,
Take a seat,
it's guaranteed to be worthwhile.

Just stay sitting
enjoy the feast
of ravishing delight
feast your eyes
upon the merriment
simply gaze upon this sight:

The coyotes
they bring the howling
catcalls and beer nonetheless
Simply dashing in tuxedos,
Simply smashing up the guests

Tumble over chairs to see
the magical attraction
of the heat between your knees
that fantastical reaction

Simply dripping with disease
that undeniable distraction,
With the sparkling eyes
and wandering hands
she slips her fingers
in
to a come hither gesture
what lies in store
what lies in wait is in the measure.

Follow her to the depths
assuring your destruction,
instead to find
you find the light,
dysangelion satisfaction.

Why is it
that every time
I believe in love
it spits in my face

How is it
that I trust
and I give
and I understand
and get no respect?

"I understand,
It's okay,
It's alright,
Just don't do it next time,
uh huh,
I believe you,
this time".

The only time
you take to say
I love you
is at the end of the day

Only when all else
is done
do you think to
pick up the phone
to say

"How was your day?"

Five minutes
here or there
then I'm out
to

Bear:

these wounds
that you have left behind
forgiveness I have tried to find
in my heart I cannot see
what this possibly means to me

Cold as frost
on this glass of tea
ice cubes clanking
as my eagerness
ceases

To Be:

capable of believing
your stories
they just end up
to be
tentative sorry's

What am I to do with you
in the balance
hangs a shoe

a shoe that should fit
me and you
one all-inclusive
cinderella duo

Glass slippers
and tux shoes to match
no more for the while

To Catch:

the sinister glance
of a passerby that
gets the chance

To See:

That my pain is real
that this ongoing feeling
is starting

To peel:

back these layers of true love
what lies beneath
is something gloved
with black and coarse
material, it sickens me
sometimes,
to see,
this connection so wearable

Wearing thinner and thinner
to see right through the center...
from you to me

I hope with all hope's hope
that this love will love and last
and be amazing love,
the kind that lasts forever.

But:
if the chill
refuses to leave,
then I'll have to grab my jacket
and leave,
and check out of your hotel

The area between clarity and
Indecision
Is where my mind always tends to stay

As it creeps into this colorless
Vision
Time melts and one night can turn into days

Grey Gray Grey
Bleeds into the fabric of my mind
Dying everything its bland yet putrid color

Ambiguous gestures
and a fleeting glance
Wrap their fingers 'round my neck
and they smother
Creativity, Life, Solitide
Noise Noise Noise
Blocking my creative release

As the muttled disposition
that my body defaults to
displays a disgruntled
shoe salesman
No one guesses at,
Knows what I go through
No one reads past the grey

Dissolution and no one
can see the clarity
In a cup of water with
stirred in dirt

The dirt keeps on swirling
and refuses to settle
To see the pearl
in the bottom of the glass
becomes impossible

The little pearl of hope
its white irradescent
luminescence
That reflects everything in
a milky white silk gaze

But no one can see it
past the grey gray muck
of muddled inquisition
of a muttered note of
agreeableness

I've long since forgotten
the way you held me
The way you touched me

Spellbound by your caresses
My breath suspended
when you look at me
with those mossy green eyes,
that smile that melts any sadness,
any care or worry,
your soft hands,
the calluses on the tips of your fingers,
the way you smell like puppies
is even the most endearing thing about you.

The way your voice reaches my ears
and my body forgets
that there is a world outside us
The sound of your guitar
as you pick and strum away
and I refrain
from placing my quivering lips
onto yours
because I know it would be
the end of a friendship.

My feelings behind an arcane barrier

I am dearly afraid to trust you
and more so afraid
that you will abandon me
at the first sight of intimacy

I grow wary of your questions
guarding my answers,
and you catch it.
You of all people
can see past my wall.

That is really the most frustrating
thing about you:
is that you see.
You see my vulnerability,
the moment I am upset,
you ask what the matter is.

You can see it plainer on my face
than I can perceive it in my heart,
and you understand me  so well,
too well to keep this charade afloat.

So, at some point,
I assume I will have to address it,
my love for you that has no end.

Until that day though,
I will remain quiet,
cherishing the growing friendship
we have achieved once more.

Take my hand but
Don't hold on
Let me hug you
But push me away

As
Dangerous as
an Intoxicating Drug
Smoldering in your soul

As your emotions
burn into stone
Etching a permanant
scar into your sleeve

As you wear your
heartache on your sleeve
With a burn hole and a scar
that empty spot that once was full
Will be replaced with nothing

Because I'm saving you from myself
I cannot comfort your pain
Because I am what the hurt consists of
I am the root of your heart's torture

You may not see it
But it is as clear as day
that I must save you from myself
so that you might heal

So that you might live
to find yourself anew,
Create a better life
loving someone else

For I am a poision that will
Rot you with sweetness
**** you with care
Martyring myself for
your relief

And the only way to detach your
dependence on me
is for me
to
disappear