You should be here with me
Living inside a whisper
Meditating, We could become a single cloud of consciousness
You should be here with me
Sitting on a smile
Laughing together in a huggggg
Riding an electrical stream of hopeful wishes
Instead i live in a box full of mirrors
Instead I'm creating illusions
Instead I'm in a state of confusion

Yo naci para morder te
Acercate que en la noche hace mucho frío
Mis espinas son mis pies,
Mis pétalos, son mis labios.  
Por aquí aveces pasa la Luna,
Dormida y llena  
Yo Celoso, el viento aveces me lleva torpe.
Con un dolor profundo en mi alma.
me pongo a llorar y sonreir
Al fin llega la amanecer
Al fin puedo dormir

Stellar are the children that dream
Stellar are the oceans that breathe and feed,
Conceptual imagination.
To those that bleed quietly.
To those that scream quietly.
To those that squeeze hope metaphorically.
Crush into this earth
slip into a beacon of love
flower pain and create resolve
our faces will burn in this atmosphere
we will scream out of existence
all while sustaining a vibration of pure beauty.
to really kiss someone, is to give up your entire soul.

This feeling,
Is a whisper crawling out me.
An echo made by a stranger underneath my skin.
A tiny yearning that bubbles up,
as  a set of continuous chortles.
My heart beats,
and I give into phantasm.

The Crimson sun that never sets,
The moon that bathes and overthrows us with all of its beauty.
The ocean breeze and it's cool attempt,
The delicate,
fleeting,
goddess silhouette.

I find Madness to be much like a mental resin.
A volatile sickness, that sits on the cusp of belligerence.  
Provocateur,
such vehemence merits the title of an artist.
The beast in its own way stands for a peculiar beauty.
Spinning its spokes,
i have seen an author at play, combing the labs of creativity,
seeking solace, and reason in this sort misadventure.

kicking my feet back & forth in the water
i wonder
Observing such cartoon characteristics,
should this traveler of realms be judged by a moral higher-arch?
Should it not be allowed to play its lute?
As long as no pain and suffering is wrought on our fellow beings?

Bringer of ideas, bound by no line of chalk.
the hurt that troubles you, will sadly be forgot.
in the arms of a fool, society stinks like a public pool.
So carry on your freedom, without care of any those whose only job is to inevitably drool.

Blood in our veins
Everything is thick
Like a rain drop gently falling into the ear
Soft and strange in mass
Beautiful, and valiantly sly
It's a cringing of the soul
A bawling of the heart
A necessary infringement
With my palms I run my soul
Deep into your lips
Remember this pedaling ghost?
The one that still loves you?

Beautiful things don’t ask for attention.
ineffable contours, that cannot be tamed with a wordy depiction.
Like water running through my fingers,
Ephemeral, and leaving me to linger.
Caldera, my steaming  desire.
Instantiates a spy, that is ready to be set on fire.

Daughter of eve,
Carousel of dreams
You’ve drowned my angels
And left me  to die in a reverie.

The truth is there is no center
no alignment of spirit & body
just a vehicle  full of bubbles(thoughts).
Apologies in advance
a bubble pops and with it our sense of free will.

we Carry us
through disappointment
we Carry us
through the frigid harbors of loneliness
we Carry us
and find the strength to bury the depression that amassed over this past winter solstice

oh my heart, heavy as a stone
there it goes, bleeding all alone
i hold it up high
wondering
if today will be the day i die
knowing
that i won't

As a master of my own domain
the fire in my gut burns heavy with flames

We Carry us
With the love of life, buried deep inside of us.

glimmer,
soft silhouette.
an outline so evocative.  
a strange desire to sing the unwise,
to catch a name and raise a fist,
to bare a few words,
and claim this evening,
from an otherwise drunken mood.

habitual courage summoned at the sweat of another drink,
a committee of stoic voices living inside of me.
passed down through a millennia of spanish men
incessantly clamouring for more whiskey.
incessantly advising
to just breathe and let go.

an index pressed on my lips  
the air rank with cherries
spits of rain, and thunder afar
my breath at a minimum
and this love is already augured w/ scars

Under a twilight glow
Cole's incantations
ease my disquietude
her voice an effervescent hymn
lulling the snakes that reside within my soul

what paradise
to lose
a
season
under my nose

She questions the validity of her arrangement  
cards dealt by "life"
she questions me
she questions the intent
she questions tonights heavy glow.

On the ground dead
Half buried, arm sticking out
Abandoned and left with a lily
A ceremony long finished
People just passing through
A sequence of prayers
Long dried up and floating into the ether

Winters almost gone
Duplicity is just about melted
The sun is helping the rot
And what's left of the body
Is bordering near dust

I come in fear
disrupted and clumsy
Shy, Shaken and awoken
My hands are cold, and feel like sabers
Indomitable spirit
Hospitable creature
Deranged child
Ego maniac
Freckle yourself alive

Transference is inevitable.
A flower that grows in between the dead cold moss.
A small hope cradled as a warm stone.
A kindness born through some invocation,
some attempt to make sense of our place in this world.
Its a prayer, a distance seen in your eyes,
A doubt formed in the mind,
by the brief rejection of a potential lover.

We are the esculent,
made ready to be consumed by the love of another.
We are a breath, held on by the hands of a good friend.
A flame stoked,
Gently in the night.
We are, we are,
weight (significant).

Inside everyone of us exists a chorus.
A picture-present, set of voices.
In this abstract, I find thought  & reality
to be a singular unit.

Each conglomerate sings of a present desire/want.
We are made gods in this place, bounded of course by the limitations of our own imagination.  

Some thoughts are wicked, some thoughts are pleasant.
Some thoughts must be simply kept wholesome, to keep the world from our essence.

Sadly, i find that nothing i conjure is 100% my own.
Each spin of the web is a subset creation of some else's ideas, someone else problems.  In this i find that free will of course is also evaporated.
i the author stands on the shoulder of another.
in this realization i am set free.

Give it sometime
our minds work in patterns.
worry is a house full of thieves,
Step outside of it and you'll be made able to breathe.

Give it some time
Negative creep is a curable disease.
A faction that misrepresents  a conquerable aberration.
wait for my signal, here have some chamomile tea.

Give it some time
i pray you'll be able to sleep
darkness is approaching, and you should know
i'm here for you for whenever
your wounds start to bleed.

She's always misplacing.
Feeling for new incongrunces
I try to be pragmatic, & feel for her supple fingers.
These are the parameters of an injured human being.
A prosaic heart, A tenuous mind.  
I have fallen into the pit of her idiosyncrasies.
A man on a mission seeking to breathe & expand my spirit into her lungs.
Her nature corrupts my own,
And like a troglodyte,  I disperse my emotions into a prism.
A prism that is now full of turmoil & suspicion.
Oh wonderful, wonderful you..