where’s the blood?
the warmth i’m missing,
where’s your hand to hold on to
when i leave.
when i leave, i’ll be crawling to the exit leaving a trail
like a slimy snail
with my shell cracked open and the fluids leaking.
like a snail, the salt wounds me, making me die of a salty death.
like a snail.
the blood has drained my humanity
and it’s on your hands.

We all watch the cacti flowers bloom under the atomic moon, and dance in the neon limelight. There cannot be much beyond this golden light we’ve entangled ourselves in; this must be the end of the universe, and yet the land stretches for miles into the darkness, wrapping around the mangled dark country of the desert, a wasteland of shrubbery and red-rock.  Our existence is a tangle of contradictions and yet we carry on, endlessly, under the pale moonlight and sprinkling of stars. We pray for change with out hearts, but know nothing will happen unless we act from our own hearts.

We play, we dance, we sing, and we question what it all means. And when we cease to find clear answers, we breathe in the night air and remember the steady beating of our hearts, since some  transient things feel so immortal and precious to our mortal souls.

I ran into my room,
threw my bag and jumped on my bed,
flung open the window as I realized you might still be in view.
I leaned out, full of joy.
I don't know what I was expecting,
but it definitely was not you staring back.
You were already there,
like a movie!
I waved, you waved back.
I yelled.

I LOVE YOU!
LOVE YOU TOO!

I don't feel special,
I'm not unique.
I want to cry
but I can't even speak.
My hands reach out,
but they cannot hold
a single thing
but the bitter cold.
Everything's frozen,
I feel lost.
Even my tears
have turned to frost.
When I cut my waist
it bleeds black.
I'm so deeply gone
there's no way back.
This is goodbye

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

The feud
serves you—
a place to grind
your hate
and keep your
heart
too sharp
to hold.

You know
I don’t know
and revel in the not knowing
because the pain of knowing
would mean growing
into someone
I believe is
not worth the knowing

Mercy is the soil in which heart bears fruit of love.

i’m numb,
no i’m not sad, not happy
maybe i’m fine

but i’m numb

when you give them your all
and you often don’t get it back
it leaves you empty

no.

it leaves you numb

my roots are growing in ashy
i can't stop looking at my acne scars

i taste everything good in me
and lick the sin off my fingers

but no one told me that loving myself
would be this exhausting

All I know
Is how
I feel

And sometimes I
Wish I
Knew nothing

I dragged my body into this void
There was nothing but
My mirrored skull.

I’m afraid of the dark
I hold my breathe when I’m alone at night
I feel its hand on my shoulder
Chilling as it grips tighter
With its knife to my throat, it tells me to run
Run around corners and past open doorways
Anywhere where it’s lurking about
Uncertainty is flourishing

I see shadows painted in paranoia
Stalk me while I walk to my car
Like bad memories and college debt
All through my life

Nothing else has this grip on my life
No addiction, no disease,
Only the darkness and its vice
Have such a control over me

When I was little
I was scared
Scared of the monsters living under my bed
I used to hide, under my blanket
Under my blanket, I was safe
The monsters couldn’t reach me under my blanket

My parents used to say
The monsters would go away
I would grow up and that then they would leave

But I grew up
And the monsters didn’t leave
Turns out my monsters, grew with me
Now instead of under my bed
The monsters live inside my head

So I hide, under my blanket
Where I think I am safe
Wondering if after all this time
My blanket can still keep the monsters at bay

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Close your eyes
   count to three,
it'll go away,
  it'll be okay,
four, five, six
   open your eyes
      you'll be fine
ten, eleven, twelve
when he died, I lost my sight
   I lost my purpose,
     twenty, thirty, fifty
I will never okay. . .
       & that's okay. .  .

Before the storm, the river had all but given up,
the guttural roar of wind and deluge
rattled all souls, except her
and in the aftermath she swelled
and bore delicious weight again
and my eye-contact
with the pageantry of the green headed drake
told all the muddy truths:
to underestimate is to lose

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

Just as a rose is a rose,
You are You,
Do not try to be someone else.
27/11/2021

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

stumbled upon your hideaway
an unexpected intrusion,
sunken heart I swallowed
hallucinating your shadow,

bluntly dismissing my worries
as my eyes fondly sought
a heaven within your cheeks,

softly blushing underneath
your eyes treasured me
oh, naive little me,

put a foot aside, darling,
undone love awaits outside,
fantasies blinded your soul
while I stood, earnestly
yearning to own your heart

I feel you as a windchime whisper
Music in the breeze
And the trees love to  
song with you
What else could they do?
I feel you as a warble; sparkling with glitter
In varying ways and degrees
Still the trees love to sing with you
What else could they do?
I feel you as otherworldly
Not alien; not creepy
But better
Just not meant for this place
And the trees, the drowning yellow bees
The mantis clinging coyly to your leaves
Love to sing with you too
All in Hollywood Harmony

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

Saturn is in
line with
Venus tonight
but, nothing's easy
when you're down.
The clowns walk
around, dressed in
yellow; fast food smiles
and cheeseburger
souls, and nothings
easy when you're down.

The dancers with poles
and sadness, that Halloween,
fires burning...childhood,
perfumed dreams,
kind of sadness fills the
navy blue night.
I can't find the North star,
and the jack-lanterns lie rotting
in the streets of Nebraska
and Kansas, and the candies
all gone, and the kids wait.
And I can't find  
the deep blue shirt I bought
at Goodwill, and Billy Burroughs
is filled with worms and earth,
and Bukowski looks at Satan
and says, "what do you
mean, we're out of whiskey?"

I've never been much for the stars,
and family and Thanksgiving are
painfully overrated,
and nothing's easy when
you're down.

Laughing with your favorite someone
is just downright good
for the soul

Her eyes were fiery
While her lips peeled away
Her sun was setting
But her colors never fade
When she bites she is bitter
But when she smiles she is sweet
Like a nectarine emblem
She’s the fruit of life’s tree.

I wonder if I really am kind hearted.
Most people think it’s true,
But maybe I’m just afraid of being mean-
Maybe I’m afraid of being you.