When I was a kid, they told me
my father had passed. Didn't really
know what that meant; just remember
wishing he had flunked.

I can’t stop thinking
about everything
and nothing
My mind is wandering at night
Searching the graves of obsessive thoughts
Walking the pavement of sadness
It’s keeping me up
And I
        just

       can’t

      sleep

For love, I am not desperate

For love, It Is not fair

For love Isn't an answer

It leaves me In despair

For love, I am not falling

I fell too many times.

Love, It Is not charming,

And It needs to finish dying,

Because I am done trying

To be loved, and to feel It,

This Is enough because

The pain made me numb

And I understand myself again

I am too dumb

Finding a reason to live,

I had to have acceptance

A smooth grave It Is

charming, isn't she
that spider you decided
to sit down beside

she'll love you to death
spin you a glorious web
and leave you for dead

Cycles of dawn and dusk pass,
creep around in long shadows
as emotions thaw.
I’m no longer trapped in
the tangled fibers of existence.
I am existence:
the definition of survival.
Former victim to the
relentless pulls of the universe
I now wear my own rings,
have my own orbit.
I dreamt myself a world:
full of meaning and purpose.

the entirety of my feeling is resting on my tongue,
asking for birth, release, freedom:

here at the border post, the guards have fled, and the memory dreamer refugees, previous detained, hesitantly, gingerly, step across a narrow invisibility, a legal fictionalization, courageously frightened, but words of “at last,” “if not now, when,” and “god bless” blend into a merging crescendo of “yes!”

the road chamfers, dusty gives way, all the traveller’s shoes, now wetted, stained and staining, make amusing sounds of connection and interaction - squishy, distinctive, known in every language, dialect -  unrealized but known, spoken, somehow comprehended.
 

why is this heaven wet? is truth moist? indeed, for this place is truthful, and sensory networks cross, senses are both heightened and bluntly realized- and this confusion delights in human land mines
exploding.

let me explain:
my tongue has eyes,
my tongue speaks the words we have in commonality,
my tongues hears your sounds,
my tongue penetrates parts of you
that no other-part touches in the
same way.  

though you might think this is simply ****** subterfuge, it is not.  

simply you need to understand how
deeply this human connects, in his way.

there are fields of hay
rolling forested hills
legends of banished English royalty
a sleepy creek, under a little used bridge

there are cows, small herds
tending time with swishing tails
kittens, enough to fill everyone’s boots
birds and their targets

there are trails for snowmobiles and tractors
air that smells like comfort, raisin cookies, peace
there is no boredom, only puttering
explorations, tree swings, sledding

I could keep you here, with me

we would go to the porch when we hear tractors
wave arms overhead as our neighbors pass by
shuck fat, juicy, sweet peas
in the shade of weathered oaks

we would be safe here
forever
in this perfectly preserved corner
of my memory

I loved sleep
a second away from reality
death for a moment
heaven for a minute
hell for a while
but when they came
the sleepless nights
they made me so powerless
even when stabbed
my eyes they were open
so just for a moment
let me sleep
so for a while, I can be with mother
hah
her warmth
I forget it on the sleepless nights

You ask for my thoughts on what I see,
my opinion, mademoiselle, is you put a spell on me

when you sleep it's like you never cried,

breathing soft and steady, wet cheeks dried.



when you sleep it's like you never lost,

boundaries weren't broken and lines weren't crossed.



when you sleep it's like you're still there,

and you still smile and you still care.



when you sleep you look young as I,

no crease in your brow and no old worn sigh.



and so if sleep is death just being shy,

is it still so wrong,

to wish

to die?

When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.

I feel her presence,
I can hear her laughter.
It feels like forever;
It's only 2 years after.

We thought we'd live forever,
But all good things have to end.
She was caring, kind, and clever,
Lord, why did she have to ascend?

when they say "no one is perfect"
what they mean is
I will make mistakes and expect you not to react
I will hurt
and break
and project
and abuse
and you will forgive me
every
time

Now there were two of them
Separated between thousands
of read texts and timely
chats touched by sound
but not skin  
Awake in the others sleeping
Sleeping in the others awake  
Restless as they wait
Restless as they wait

They speak to the madman,
Suppression, subversion, detraction,
A vocabulary of ‘less than’.

They speak to the madman,
To the loveless and the wounded,
The self-doubting ego.

They speak to the madman,
A consort of shadows,
Recurrent with paradox.

Until, uncertain as to the integrity of my own thoughts,
Understudied by self-censure and distrust,
I pause to listen in silence...to the silence which listens back.

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

You can't keep others happy if you're unhappy yourself...love yourself and smile often and spread the positive energy around.

Death calls my name constantly,
Always in my ear
Whispering to me in times of vulnerability,
One day I fear I’ll listen .

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

I Am Everything..

Most simply put:

The "I" explodes

In a vast expansion

Leaving "Am"

Colored by Everything...

i promise it will be better
i promise to understand
i promise to fill in the gaps
there shall be no more mishaps

i promise i promise i promise,
things will change can't you see
its meant to be
i promise today i promise

i promised you yesterday
I promised you a better tomorrow
but heres the thing you see;
tomorrow never comes
and i never did lie.

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.

'Sees 'within' itself!
Unveiling undergoing's Births as infinite blessings.'  
~

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.

What if,
you found out
that you were
a cardboard cut-out
like in one of those
books
where you could be dressed
by a stranger in even stranger
clothes

see page five for hipster gear.