ac-brooks-1Whisper

American
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mannequin dreamWho’s going to take your mind away / tonight / Brown eyed, blue eyed, green eyed devil,
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whiskeyWhat inspires me? / A kiss / A touch
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tip toed sheetsmilky white / skin / a freckles skip
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first kissshort it was but certainly sweet... / the taste of the wine, salt, shivering heat … / the racing hearts…
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transparent reflectionThe snow lofts on the cities cold air. The drenched earth, to cold to drink in the wet, spills pockets of slush and snow onto our paved plastic world. The cold slows the city down and the skirted girls are bundled in their polyester puffed shields. A still, tranquil quietness presents itself and the heat from the coffee escapes the cup much like we might imagine a soul departs its host. With chilled dried hands the vain cover their hair and curse the moist air. The homeless huddle in quiet desperation hoping to fight mother’s winter’s rude return, her warm ***** of summer seems so long gone. My transparent reflection on the glass separates me as I gaze into the gray dismal sky and dream of walks, gloved held hands. Pulled together at the heart, the cold does not pierce loves warm undying barrier. I imagine her porcelain skin, blushed cheek, and red wetted lips as the chilled air crystallizes the sparkle in her sea green eyes. She sees through me. I don’t exist. With empty cup and left tip, I wake from this dream, put on my armor and walk past my life back to where reality and angst wait.
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souls subtle songa day dreams wake / slow moving soul / broken promise
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Razors make no noiseWeakness stares from the mirror, / Sad, / Sunken,
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just a dreamI’m unsure, / uncertain, / scared.
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quietly sittinghe wondered to himself, / quietly, / sitting,
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anewThis mornings dawn, seems like no other, its rays of warmth, orange, red and white light piercing the cold concrete and steel edifices of the seemingly emotionless city, like monuments, giant headstones for the barren beings and misplaced souls that roam in these empty spaces, scrambling for their cut, their nut, their basket full of eggs. Unaware, most, I am sure, of the event. The suns new day, taken for granted and brushed aside, no time to notice, no time to love. / Habitually numb, alone without thought or reflection a new mood a new emotion stirs, rises. In this moment I see only you, your eyes, opening to me like this day’s sunrise. Your eyes, your being engulfing me, exposing me of my weaknesses, my flaws, and my faults, you accept me you understand me ultimately, you love me. / Like the city being warmed by this new day’s sun, I am warmed by your radiance, your touch. I am reborn and my life is anew, I breathe you in, hold you in my lungs and in my arms. In this new day’s sun, it will always be, only you, only me.
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