Now and again
I let myself wander
In the words once forgot-
Reaching further than
Hearing Past voices
I strain to feel a phantom touch.
I no longer can feel the stroke of your hand on my bare shoulders,
And I can't hear your inflection
In moments once precious.
There's no soul left in those shriveled memories;
Just deformed faces.

Home is your favorite coffee stain

I head out at the end of an Indian Summer,
To journey back through whispering sleet.
Green blades stand tall with
Tips bleached white,
air cradles my face
Walking through a path of confectionary houses
that float on the lakes of November.
Falling stars deliquesce in nearby tarns.

Days like this remind me
of the 5 year old hanging
from her pink feather boa.

Contrived Eyes,
Smile wide,
Downstairs
at a drugged up,
perfect table.
Far, Far away.

I grew up
and threw it
Far, Far away.

Thanksgivings been found at the bottom of a bottle
and I'm thankful for the dope in my pocket.
I burn that life away.
And this is where I fly
Fly high,
Fly,
Far, Far
away.

Life's lust
Dries casts
Around crusted
Finger tips.

Savory juices
Evaporate in
Parched throats
Of passionless lives.

Aching to be quenched
By tasteless aces

These **** yellow lights
Threaten my corneas-*

your legs belong to a pin up girl*

Someone is staring at me,
Pale faced,
Sullen brown, red trimmed eyes
Being held by purple shelves.
Gazing at my legs
I glide my hands from my ankles
Grazing unrecognizable
Willow limbs,
******* the scarred flaking notches
Fixated on my newly found eyes
I realize
I never felt my own deterioration.