A forlorn jacket absently left on a gate post warms in the sun.
No wind rustles its fringed edges, the shadow cast envelopes half of the green post
and its arms circle down around embracing the square metal pole.
Like a man hanging his head it stays; a resting place for both bugs
and lonely thoughts, both becoming nestled in its threadbare fabric.

It was a soft thing when it happened,
a gust of wind channeled down the hills to the small valley where the gate post is embedded in the ground
causes the jacket to raise its head subsequently losing its grip and falling to the ground.

Now if you listen close you can hear the bugs scuttling in their rearranged home,
listen and hear the lonely thoughts escaping.

Who am I   to- deny,
to reject.
To, discard
the boneless fruit that
is only inanimate clay.
I went to hold your hand
on the return ride
in the back of a NY taxi cab,
with the sense of imbricating
memories hanging heavy.
I touched the soft flesh 'twixt your
thumb and forefinger.
In that moment of time as we brushed skin
you shuddered
and I knew something had changed,
and I know now, what I hadn't the courage to say:
I am whomever I need to be
to survive.
That I am not the only one
left disfigured by the decisions we make.

You come in the light and steal our young, while they are in their silent slumber.
I have seen you break their skin asunder, with glee displaying their insides for your greedy eyes to see.

You take in the name of hunger and leave us wanton, while they are in their silent slumber.
I have seen you in all of your malignancy, for it’s your stomach our children now encumber.

You leave in the night and let us protect what is left; all the while they are in their silent slumber.
I have seen you and others, our young only help to swell your number.

Said the duck to the human.

There is no simple sin, even within an ignorant whim.
You have an absence of forward thought,
I treat this as if- it is an abnormality.
Can you, for just a moment
imagine yourself as you are,
disingenuous and ordinary.

Can you, for just a moment
step outside your solidified
perception of the continuum.

You can, just for a moment
look at the beauty inherent
within the repetition of us.
There is no behavior irregular to Love.
Consume me in lust and anger,
in soft embraces and memory.
For in words is the only place I truly linger,
so sate your simplistic nature now.
There is no insult in simplicity,
the world is already complex enough.
You are swift in being decisively concise,
delightfully constrained and
unadorned. 
There is nothing more then internally acquired happiness.
There is nothing but self imposed purpose.

My frantic worship of winter is bitter.
His ache was gone in a moment,
you use the knife and incubate a symphony.

We the ugly rust run mad
always beneath the Light
bared lust watching Love
drooling delicate shadows.

-

Your repulsive tongue has screamed
sweet languid moans,
my cry is bitter and essential
our garden is now a forest.

Untouched snow calls!
Cold world claimed by the bold.
My dog stares mournfully.

Please, are you my sun?
Questions from the Moon and I.
Sleepily "I miss you".

Little asteroids,
accumulate noiselessly,
in the dark of space.

Rough road rage ahead!
I'm suing the pants off you,
spinal injury.

Creepy older boy.
Why is it you stare at me?
Am I pretty to you?

Devious as a spider you’re always curious of the outsider.
In your own little world you’re not quite unfurled.
Inside your myriad of minds, it’s you I adore always wanting more.
What is underneath these skins you wear, what happens if I brush back your hair?
Should I take a chance, should I make an advance?
Secreted away in me is something you'll never see.
It is the little things that give me wings, sweet touching and desperate clutching.
But I'll lock it away, it’s there to stay.
You'll have to pay a heavy price if you want the key, if you want me to be free.
So for now I'll stay a silhouette, hopefully of something you won't forget.
It’s a string of vignettes; I don't want to be one of your regrets.

Oh' glamorous god glassy eyed, in me
you have so very much time invested
I burn past tense n’ loosen tight lips. I may
be lost without Love jejunely injected
regularly in to my life made little with
worry and neglect. Love's politics ensue; know
I am not the one for you. I have not been
properly tested. Jarringly elected
for your need with a kind word herds
your starry glossed eyes to my body infested
with your skin and visible wet wild sin.

Nowhere is now here, desolation; within
my adulterated honesty you took from me
that which you did not believe I still owned
in your break-neck speed habitually
freed into earthly delight in
the last shades of dim light
wild with sin, hiding a sparse
vapid wilderness within.

You firmly handle my grip
as milky droplets of ineptitude
drip.

Do you want restitution for my crimes past committed?

Is your code of silence a loud cry for justice?
Fine, be free from my life and all of its many normalities.
You've pushed me away for all of your false realities.
There were no threads of life to unwind from the next.

Soon you were simply gone.
No loud cries, those were really only my quiet sighs.
No justice needed, the jury filed out barely heeded.
I'm left alone with no condemner.

There's nothing to atone for, you were the ***** *****.
I'll make a mess, I won't be quiet.
Is this just making it worse? Reveling in memories like a second skin.
No not yet, don't absolve this sin.

What can an individual know of drugs?

While transcending only able to look in on the Id of themselves
and not the out of said mental health.
Sunken and sullen while witnessing the golden kingdom,
an illusion of a fully realized sense of self,
an identity never fully actualized in reality.
And every day is the residual question of who you are
reaffirmed as inconsistent by incessant use.
Every day good habits become an active choice losing its voice,
lost in the uproar of inactivity.

Pursue in the aftermath of tragedy
the multifaceted personality
hiding behind the emotion-less catalyst.

Electronic karma spills unnoticed,
neon in the streets of concrete and oil
only to be dissected by the ******* legs.
I see streams of soil eroding
whereas you live free from worry
because we view time differently and
incur incrementally
indifferent sins
assuredly.
I am
eschewing violence with the slow quiet chewing of cheek
and a slight
leak at the seams
like violet light creeping from the night club,
a signal for the heated rubbing hub of energy
to come from behind the heavy door,
and skin deep what is my steady humming roar.

The broken and the disheartened wander old roads with lost ideas,
searching for deep morals to half forgotten truths.

Chopping wood for a woman and her child,
for payment being fed outside without trust,
they may wish to be loved instead,
in this world where they were so ******.

We are not as prolific as a species as we would like to believe,
so much wouldn't even notice if we were to leave.

So much more untouched by human finger or toe,
we create beaten paths in our consistency,
spinning internally our emotions into solitary lunacy.

After a gifted sandwich is long since eaten,
only the leftover humanity remains,
in half caught-
half remembered strains.

Thick branches sway in the wind
as my vision seems to swim and starts to dim.

The feeling started out small,
like an apex before the fall.

Such a loss leaves a bitter taste
to see a life go to such waste.

I will sacrifice but for you
nothing will ever suffice.

I am not the source of all this remorse,
sinking to my knees under thick trees.

Peace will overtake me as I watch you walk away,
above us limbs sway.

Serenity is not hard to obtain
and from you it is not hard to abstain.

A tree fallen is not a loss to the forest so do not mourn,
in the rotten and decomposed new life is born.

He opened his coffin and folded the side down, swung his legs over.

Gathered his strength
and pushed off heavily, rising unsteadily to his feet.

          "Dead man walking"

He catcalled,
giggling to himself.

          "That never gets old"

He couldn't sleep,
a family of worms had taken residence in his skull,
what a racket they were making.

So he went walking,
wind whipping his ragged coat tails
and straining against his top hat but a gaunt sallow hand kept it steady.

Through the small town,
still sleepy in the early morning.
Darkness was starting to fade when he settled down on a park bench.

The sun was starting to peek
out above the trees, warmth was spreading
and the world was starting to move with increasing speed.

          "I wasn't expecting company, least that of the living dead."

He started with surprise,
a lady sat to his right with a wry smile on her face.

Plump lips curling.
He nodded.
And said something but it was lost in the wind.

          "What did you say?"

asked the lady politely.

          **"I said, a sunrise as beautiful as this really tugs at the heartstrings."

Falling behind in my arbitrary designs, staring blankly at the passing signs.
Lines wind along the way, like an ongoing lie.
I'll get as far away from you as I can, that's my best plan.
Another cheap motel that I'll stay in will make no new impressions and I keep paying for my digressions.
There are certain memories of you where I dwell, they seem to muddle and swell.
Muddy footprints lead to my room as I come in from a thunderstorm, its in these dreary days I end up drunk and leering.
In a forest clearing I see you peering and naked, your body seems to call; the end is nearing.
Towns melt into the past, nothing new rears in the future, I wonder how long I'll last.
I find it hard to absolve my sins, my heart is held together with pins.
We have traveled to Spain and under starry night skies have lain, I know now I'll never rub away this stain.

Cold and clean, clinical, “and his name is The End of Days” said the priest.
        “At least he wasn’t born deceased”-
        “Like the last”

Clips and phrases filtered and bent by reality.
        At least leash the beast high on brutality-
        Isn’t life a blast?

Ere our life and yours, and all these stores, before us all!
        Even before man metaphorically could crawl-
        All things gone so fast

Because the mad man frowns with his collar so tight and his book so ****** its black-
        And his words so holy as to make grown men crack.
        Even your own countless sins surpassed.

Watch closely as the seas boil and life returns to their steaming embrace,
        the world left quiet and gray, maybe
        even so I won’t believe in god “just in case”.

The brick wall towers between us; crossing seems out of the question.
I know no way of touching your heart
Hollow I sit wondering why you built it,
was it to keep me out?


I used to make you laugh and hold your hand;
talk late into the night, our love knowing no bounds.

As the moon rose so did our voices;
now I hear nothing but my own thoughts grinding away.

My brain holds no answers yet I still search the day away hoping to find what I did wrong...

I don’t know myself anymore;
I feel like a stranger, finding his way in an unknown body.

Events of my past that should define me-
hold no more power over me; grief strikes more than just the soul.

When thinking becomes a chore,
chores become monotony;
days will melt into months,
just as your love melted away.

I feel those bricks will never come down no matter how hard I try.

I wonder if I ever truly loved you or if I just loved the thought of you.

Just as your wall shuts me out I will build my own wall.

I wonder if anyone will find my heart?

Ten feet under you’ll bury me in your memories and in the ground.
Black clothes cover smiles of dark deceit and you’ll laugh without a sound.
Church bells start to ring as you tear away the lies and all our ties.
The mask melts away while the worms make me pay.
Don’t pray for forgiveness and don’t miss the loss of your innocence.
Shiver at the new touch and its fulfilling rush.
But it won’t feel the same and you’ll have me to blame.

Warmth spreads from touch and tongue,
warm breath from hot lung.
We are laying in bed- waiting to paint our world red
and I am dwelling on every little thing you have said.
Wishes float in the air-
and your hands encompass everything I’ve sought,
here we live in a thought.
Bones form a full body with moving dynamics
and your mind fills with ad hominem tricks.
I’ll look through your skin; it’ll look back in shame of its sin.
Indulgence of the flesh, the meat of your faults melt when our hands mesh.  
A single frame doesn’t move, bordered by broken limbs and forgotten whims.
Your kiss smears on my cheek, softly we become weak.

Hold close your bit of me defined,
and I'll grip tightly to the only chipped piece left behind.

I hear and see
soles grind
small pebbles
into night nigh
obscured flagstones,
something young,
a passerby,
says

                 “What are you doing? Old man"

Stepping from the
well-worn stone
to spongy dirt
moist leaves, a
fleeting cricket
drawing closer now-
short hair
mid twenties
maybe a man, fine features
He asks
                 "What are you senile? What day is it?”

With a spark he laughs after uttering the word
"day",
I dislike Him for it

                 "Well, Tuesday I do believe."

Or did I just think that, either way,
                                     He doesn't listen

                 "Do you need help? Old man"

And moves closer still
now only six feet
a clearing of leaves overshadowed
by the realization,
of soft swells,
of
sweet
perfume
Compassion steals across Her face
She asks loud
"How long have you been in this park?"

And I look down at my
***** dress shoes,
filthy slacks, my
muddy hands
I look out of place
But now there is a
hole
A
pit
A
Crevasse
I notice a faint droning in my ear
It iterates me, She senses a
stain in me
A
growing
blight
I don't seem very old anymore
No, not to Her
And
I get close
r
Far off I hear the sound of taxis and
a siren
And oh lady of the night
She sings to me
Tonight She sings
Only to
me

Then there is
only
placid
silence

Now, lost in
disjointed contemplation
Spotless slippers
Gray pajama bottoms, a
glass of milk
I hear
Something
Maybe a termite
eating
No,
A ******* bumble bee must have flown in
That is it
I know it
That is making this,
awful
droning
sound

It is to the ones we love
that we gift our most intricate torture
devices, tools hand tailored for creating
our own personal horror.
Have you ever bled time?
Slits leaking grains of sand
like salt rolled twixt fingers to fall
on red ****** meat.
I'll sear both sides and watch
you choose your child over me.
A choice taken in a vacuum and
the whirl of dust takes me.
To the precipice of disillusionment,
thirteen years of a desperate person.
The sands of time ripple,
as present reaches his dark hand back
changing everything,
all of you: I ever believed in.
Sizzle pop of meat on iron.

He slides under her skin
He plays with her heart
watching it slowly beat
watching her chest slowly rise and lower
Feeling her goose bumps rise against his searching fingers
this is his game
and she is but a player
with everything to lose

Abscond from thought through journey;
surrender my weary spirit and
endure our eternity in observation.
Transform with me..

To you,
I am the clean yet illusory interweaving of poetry.
A dream made abruptly real,
wreaking havoc and complexity.
To myself, I am lost to a gruesome ******.
I tear apart everything I have built,
because there is no hope
in the act of conservation.
Solace in acceptance is all that there is,
and in between the long breath,
there is a sheer exhilaration of power.
I gift parts of me to people who care so little, they do not remember my name,
just as I do not remember their face.
I do remember the sharp sting
of your flesh against my palm,
and in concentration-
the luxorious scent of your ***.
It is the slow death of an ******.
There is release in giving away
the ****** meat of our life
for little more than a placeholder.
And there is relief
in the thought of taking from you,
whatever I desire.
I speak of emotions,
I barely can feel--
too entrenched in the wild.
This is my father's home,
and it will be my home as well.