So much to say, ****
but can’t even open my mouth
identity perjury slammed
to please whoever was around

The one I hide emerged in
clever jokes and lies,and  storylines
I’m a wretched ******* person
All ******* jokes aside

you don’t seem to know it
i guess you’ll never see
no matter how bit by ****** bit..
oh, hi
my friends call me b

an artist  of sorts,
surrealist self portraits i could sell
Charm, charisma, laughter show more
now that you’re underneath the spell

You see depth in my  eyes
sweet love in every word to you spoken
And sure, in that you’d  be right
But the rest of me - broken

I cant bear to find out
I don’t even wanna ******* know
If you dug straight through my ground
And found the Shallow grave of a dead man
You weren’t ever supposed to ******* know

If you dug me out,
Removed the dirt and saw underneath
You’d dig and dig the grave deep into the ground
The only good b, is a buried b

tread light with me
he warned, i’m no light cross to bear
but you seemed to hold it easily
so he swore he’d keep you near
though with time and distance, perpetual struggling
your knees began to shake
you smiled with love through all the trembling
but now your love held a bitter taste

you knew he held you dear
more than the sun,  or even breath
but the weight of love riddled with tears
encumbered you, like all the rest
his cross was just as heavy
he struggled just the same
though the crosses he had
on his back  already
was fogging up his brain

Jesus may have taken 39 lashes
before he laid down his life for sin
but you’d have taken 50 more
just to prove your love was all for him

the broken man with all his burdens
never stopped to take a glimpse
the love he had who stood before him
now held all his burdens upon her hips

(whistle).. chirp chirp,
I know the night has slipped away-
when i hear the birds words.
the room starts to illuminate-
the windows curtains, don't work.
i'm not ready for the suns harsh rays-
seeking darkness, the light hurts.
but a selfish horus starts his day-
the jays and i, suffer.
silently, not once a **** apology-
with no remorse,  the birds burn.


Always found it kinda funny, we assume birds are always singing-
melodies of fresh starts, new hope.
At dawn a roosters caw, signals new beginnings,
sounds more like they're hung from rope.
Maybe the cardinals hate the light, maybe they are screaming?
when that fireball in the sky flaunts his glow
maybe the ravens hope they are but dreaming,
Or maybe this time it won't show.

Can't wake up from this nightmare,
vulture-
yes, this is all real.
sometimes the heat just can't be bared,
torture-
i know just how you feel.
it can be easy to get scared,
scorcher-
sometimes you cannot deal.
so yell to the demon in the air,
forger-
one day he may just kneel.

Gather the eagles, gather the hawks-
riot! revolution!
act against the evil, no time for squawk-
find it, resolution.
gather on the steeple, form solid as rock-
binded, may confuse him.
together you are lethal, invincible, this flock-
fly high.
retribution


-bb

I want to rewind time
I've been a broken record
I've been stuck on
thinking about you and me
and the things we never were.
i'm hoping
i could change that
last hug to a last kiss,
with me pushing you up against my car,
fingers running through your hair.
i want to feel your lips quiver,
like they used to.
what can I whisper into your mouth,
i love you?
i'll miss you?
you mean oceans and oceans to me?
if  I don't,
what would caress your brain?
would you dream of others?
what could be?
what i should've been?
****,
what should i have been?

Addict.
Fly free unwanted conqueror-

I detest you
And your haunting illusion.

Midnight visage-
Encapsulated in wanton peaks
Of redemption.
You who scorched my fields
And ignited my fears,
Laying waste in a furious
Dervish of extrapolated ecstasy.

It might have been over
But in what I was sure
Was my final moment
Your grip became slack,
my conscious lying sputtering
in the destitute mud
That comprises bewilderment ,

And you showed me mercy-
Such bravery in the face of havoc.
And now you gladly accept me,
Embrace me in cold arms,
Wantonly smiling at the distance-
almost, almost imperceptive

But my knowledge trumps mere sense,
With the certainty of a madman.

Her eyes played me
Like soft chords on
An old violin,
And the sound produced
Would never sound as sweet,
As the song flowing from
Your piano key teeth.

There are harmonies in my heart,
And melodies in my veins.
If only you'd strum me
Three times more,
I'd blow into your trumpet lips,
And you'd buzz and you'd hum-
Dancing inside of my kiss.

I'll take this mallet,
And hammer away
At the contours of your spine
Like it were a xylophone,
Your body vibrates-
I flow to the sensual tone.

This is a symphony of few,
An orchestra of two,
And who needs instruments anyway-
When the music is made
by me and you?

After smoking my first pack
Of cigarettes
The novelty wore off pretty quick.
It didn’t feel cool anymore,
Didn’t make me feel important.
The cigarette was just something
To stick between my fingers,
**** between my lips,
Inhale and feel something
In my lungs.
A prop.
It was just a stick
With a red, smoldering ****,
A piece of tobacco
To play with before the ember
Ate way down to the filter
And singed my fingertips.

Now, I think I light up
Because the smoke is so
******* enticing.
It’s beautiful,
A kinesthetic work of art
like a ballet,
The way those silver
Tendrils curl so languidly
From the tip into the air,
So graceful, so smooth.
When I smoke
I can’t help but to imagine
I’m watching a group of dancers.

And I think I light up
Because there’s nothing better to do
Half the time and at least
It flouts the boredom
for a few minutes or so,
At least it interrupts the
Relentless monotony of Life.
Kurt Vonnegut mentioned
Something about smoking
Being a noble form of suicide-

Well, so it goes.

Draped, splattered on a canvas
that stretches over bones—
Let's see what life you can make of it,
This framed temple you call home.

These rough edges strike you
Awakening their shapes steadily,
Just living lines on road maps that will never,
Ever lead you back to me.

For you are a transformed artist, a pale-skinned army
Composed of a thousand lies,
A self-proclaimed angry bird,
Red like a sick horizon.

With uneven flow, your hesitant hands
Trembled all through the night,
Just to burn it in morning, even though
You worked so hard to get the lighting right.

I lost her.  
Where did she go?
I hear her voice.  
It's coming from the studio.
Against my better judgement.  
I follow.  
I don't dance.
I don't have a dancer's body.  
Music.  
My heart races.  I hate this.
The mirrors surround me.
Where is she?  
I can't do this without her.  
I'm short.
Fat.
Mirrors.  
Suddenly, I can't breathe.
I close my eyes.  
Open them.  
Eyes front.  
Ready to fight alone.    
Then I saw HER.  
As the music played, she let the rhythm pulsate through her body.  
The vocals moved her spirit.  
The percussion moved her feet.
She had enough curves to move with each instrument.    
And so she danced.  
She was bursting with sensuality.    
Aware of the power of her swaying hips.  
Her smile hypnotized me.  
The fluidity of her body seduced me.  
No.
I must not give in.    
I feel weak.
One sway consumes me.    
I am defeated.    
And so I let her dance
Back into my soul.

Sweet is the kiss
That makes me hate the time,
Soft is the breath
That fades from your lips to mine.

Smile, dear
For just a glimpse of that subtle grin
Is enough to make my heart shutter.
And I dare you to bat those blue eyes again,
I promise i won't stare.
Breathe your soul into me
I will conceal it in my heart,
guarding, until the end of my time.

And I'll show you what trust looks like
And I'll show you what passion tastes like
And I'll show you what love feels like--
And that will be more than enough.

High.
Breathing is normal,
appetite is aberrant.
All sounds are ambient.

I
am
still
here.

Lost in time;
unaware of reality,
but aware of my sanity.

Am
I
still
here?

Senses have risen
and failed
My mind is jailed.

Will
I
stay
here?

Jailed but liberated,
I am one with everything.
My heart begins to sing.

I
am
not
here.
-Bb

Long day.
Still no job.
Not a friend to hear my cry.
I just really need some sleep.

You know, my ceiling doesn't look the same anymore.
Endless nights of mindless staring--
has accumulated a peculiar fascination with
this slab of poorly painted drywall.
Blank, empty, curious,
it seems as if my ceiling and I have more in common
than I previously recognized.

I don't know when the sleepless nights started,
but my need for them to end is imperative.
I can't take it anymore.
Lying alone in your bed at night,
provides too much time for thought.
I can't deal with more thoughts.
Not with this insignificant life of mine.

Too many thoughts of love,
and how i don't posses it.
Too many thoughts of hope,
And how there is none.
Too many thoughts of Heaven,
And how I'll probably go to hell.
Too many thoughts about those painkillers in the drawer--
hiding so close to the whiskey;
Too many thoughts about how many pills It'd take;
Too many thoughts about the chance of getting some real rest;
...
I just really need some sleep--
Forever.


-Bb