Monday nights on earth
A choice of two remedies
Warm me up at home or in the new place in westlake?
But first
Which way, to which way goes the winds?
Windy libra evenings blow all around me.
After all, what did I expect when venus stays above this part of town.
There is refuge from this cold
uptown
in the cafe on Lennox.
It was here that I met deep purple eyes.
The ones filled with magic, luxury, and the smoothest contact.
They cried the kind of warm purple tears that are hard to describe.
You taste like velvet feels.
You taste like twinkle sounds.

Have you ever had lavender hot chocolate on a cold Monday night?

Interesting because neither have I.

Truth be told
I'd bet my soul.
I only get lonely in the mornings.
The cold breeds empty amidst the white light of the morning sun.
A good morning blue bird colors the hazey sky.
As the sunrise of solitude fills the air I ponder my soul.
I'd sell my soul if it turned back time to the place of orange sight.
A place in time before the silent night
To the place that lives in sets.
Where the sun waves goodbye and enters a full evening sky.
You are my only sunset.
I feel full at the peak of sunset.

How many meteor showers can one month have?
!Februarius!
To cleanse, to purifiy, and to seek out the rain.
Pleasant offerings to the month of change
!Februarius!
As an ode to wellness and love.
!Februarius!
As the plan for me and my doves
Fly free and go find out
How many meteor showers can one month have?

-2.00 +1.50 x 180
I barely see
Through squinty eyes is a love that looks like Paris.
Paris shifts and shakes until out of the cracks a pair of lost eye glasses are found.
I see what you've been searching for.
A love that feels like Paris.
Congruence in the vision.
Discrepancy in reality.
What is Paris really like this time of year?
Can you hear it sparkle? Does it sing?
Tell me do you hear the strange songs?
Is it riots?
Riot chants fill the streets to which we must all sing along.
If I dare tell you I love you like paris nights
Move, oh move along.
If you dare love me like Paris songs
I'll be destroyed by daylight.
Paris nights,
in the name of good faith and a romantic stroll,
beautiful and strong.
The mist is married to ashes.
Dont fall in love with ideas you'll end up like riots on a Paris morning.
I dont speak the language so tell me what these words mean because I've felt them all along.
Je t'aime **** de cette ville.

With salty eyes and a wet face, I come to tell you the story that has been rewritten.
I do not remember the time, month or place.
Just that
I had played with dolls that day
and waited to watch taped cartoons on replay.
The night was full, together and never apart from the place that I stayed.
A bond that felt genetic to the core of my state.
This night was the last time I felt whole.
The last night that everything was interconnected through time and space.
No matter how far I strayed every place felt like a home. Or at least not too far away.
Like monozygotic twins reared apart, I was never too far away.
A genetic bond that set the night and day.
Many bodies in one soul.
My mother left this day.
“I promise I'll be better. I'll sleep in my own bed. Ill behave. I won't ask for more dolls or bother you when I mess up the tapes. Don’t leave. Stay here. Look at me I don’t take up much space. There’s room for you here under my cape.”
Despite my efforts what was written was written.
Eventually, you came home and said you had found your place.
I’ve yet to find a place with an address I remember.

I don't know how to fix this part of me.
It's not you, it's me.
As much as I want it to be you
it's me.

Go far, run, and leave this place.
I'll try and keep it secret from the most selfish parts of me.

You plant thoughts as leaves gently wander,
Passions pulse through pathways, profound and precise,
In the purity of petals, where phronesis lies.

You, the paragon of patience, a perennial sage,
With palms that nurture petals, planting wisdom on each page.
Under the pergola of pondering, you prune with care.

From the garden of the mind, in a perpetual maze,
Paving pathways of purpose,
In the garden, pure thoughts are found

BB

I can't see past yesterday's failed sunny day.
Grapes need sun to drink or they'll shrink right away.
Today's price ain't worth the bottle.
Tomorrow is dead chardonnay.
Open the vineyard
I'll try another way
Look windward~~~~~~
I'll try anyway

I've been dreaming about the sun
as far back as one and two.
I've been redecorating my resting place for twenty-one years.
But a grave is a grave is a grave is a grave
no matter the time it takes
to masquerade
my brave.
I've never been brave enough to face the light of day.
I've lived by reflected light.
It easy to stare at the moon by eyesight.
How do I stare at the sun with eyesight?

you came
to me past twilight and watched me redecorate.
I planted flowers in the grave.
but a grave is a grave is a grave is a grave
no matter how many flowers bloom at midnight.
(None of them did)
What then changed?

I took off the mask and let you open the door
and now
The light from the sky floods my grave with a force of a million volts.
I am reminded of the time
I thought I would never run through fields of ultraviolets.
Today I walk out of my grave.
To the day!

To what should I be afraid?
My fields are shot with blue violets.
The roots rip open grounds
as buds blossom with violence.
To what should I be afraid?

Today, because of you,
a grave is not a grave.
Today, because of you,
I wake up to the sun.
I'm staring at the sun without eyesight.
I love you
I feel the warmth of sunlight.

The seeds grandma the seeds!!!
Esta bien pruébalo mi amor, ni siquiera lo sentirás
Como todo lo malo que queda afuera cuando vienes a mi.
Tastes like pink and yellow
Real sugar this time its sweeter than candy!!!
Si amor sabe como el amor que tengo para ti.
The tree grandma the tree!!!
Tan grande como el amor que tengo para ti.

I love you.
Thank you for raising me and helping me make jam as sweet as can be.

I cant find the right thing to say.
Oh what could be left?

Is it
This or is it that?

No that cant be right.
I never even met you
But with our permission they took you away.

All that is left
Is
Untill we meet again
I'll keep looking for right thing to say.

Peace be what keeps you dead.
Beneath these roots is a land of bone.
Desolate, lost, and never known.
Blossom buried herself in search for earth and church.
A place called heavenly home.
Sweet innocent flower, dont you know?
You're dead to them.
You're dead to thee.
You've been dead for about a century.
You killed yourself that night you thought it be better if you bloomed alone.
What did you think would happen in alley of the shadow of death?
You feared it. You wanted it.
You let it rip you too pieces and now your soul is scattered across the graveyard.
Rest now.
Chaos be what kept you searching.
Pain be what left you dead.
Peace be what keeps you dead.
My beautiful little flower.

Afraid of living life in variance.
In vainglorious,
Not proud of the factorial desgin.
Theres steps to the madness.
Levels on levels on levels
She's a 3x4x8x7x125
Three by four by eight by seven by one hundred and twenty five.
Experimental data reigns here yet bows to detrimental denominators.
Watch your parameters!!!!
Rho your boat and watch the time!!!!
Just enough to keep you confused until you decide to restart the computer and surrender to professor neuse.

I remember
great falls
Like the ones in Niagara
Great water rapids
Great falls
Like the ones in front of my address
Bruised knees on gravel and stone.
We fall
We fall
For the sake of the tragic
But one thing does so with no safety fabric
As the blossoms fall out of bloom,
we try to catch them all.
Running back and forth
for flower rescues of sorts.
I wonder why they do so let go?

I look up towards the fading green trees and shout, "Dont fall for the change stay just the same!"

But they fall even faster
They so with laughter
unto pavements of gravel and stone.
Away from home
Away from soft tones
As blossoms spring into fall and let go attachments.
They cheer
for
a new season.
As we set forth on travel and 'lones
We learn to welcome gravel and stone.
Today on this sunday I welcome great falls

Hear me say,
I know great falls.
Truly I know great falls.

David had a sling and rocks made of barium sulfate.
Fast and dense like that of a bullet.
David shot a gun at the Philistine pulpit.

Let it be your favorite flower.
Pictures of burning flowers might help ease the pain.
A petal smile that fits perfectly inside a picture frame.
Burning flowers only
Inside this house.
Only flowers that start a fire allowed past the front door.
In this house it's easy to remember to water flowers because they're set ablaze.
Water them and I'll take pictures of the burning flowers and stick them behind picture frames.
But too much water and life will die.
Burn them so they might stay alive
Too much love and I might die.
Burn me so that I  might stay alive.
It seems as if this description of life is far too violent but love is real.
Pick the flower
Plant the flower
That it may be the favorite flower
Dead or alive

Heres to twenty one
Not yet a quarter
Two dimes and a penny.
Last night I cried two times over some henny.
It's okay though I just started but I guess I'll start over.

Heres to twenty one.
To a life well lived, sober, and full of experiences.
Learning to let go of the past.
Forgetting the should haves & shouldnots like the clerance shirts you just bought because its back to school season.
To not be like the California summer. Clingy to the golden age holding on to late mother September.
To be open to the fall.
To be strong when I fall.
To love the winter and walk over frozen lakes  once drowned in.
To love where I have been and seek where I haven't.
Embrace the seasonal life.
Here you wear satin and feel beautiful. Rich in passion.
Never ashamed for the life that happened or is happening.

Heres to twenty one.
Not yet a quarter
Two dimes and a penny.
Twenty one is just happiness and some change.

This blondie is sweet as cake.
A true champion with a pretty face.
Royalty calls her the princess of pattycake.
A double dutch dancing dutchess
A two time winning pageant queen
Her hair stays messy and always on her cheeks.
Who needs a brush when you're  the princess of games & showcases?! Who needs to be proper when you're eating cake?
"I'm the princess of heaven with stains on my shirt!!!"
What a time to be eleven.
Royalty calls her the birthday princess.

Why waste poetry on the love of your life?
More life more life
Instead write about that night you ate peanut butter with a butter knife.
Spent four hours contemplating should you eat the whole jar without thinking twice?
Thats not how it works.
Dont think right
Write about the times you dont think right
That time you spent hours on the balcony in the middle of summer.
 Not to let your hair down but because you locked the door on your way out.
Hands pressed on the glass with no way out.
More life. More life.
Scream and shout
I love this life!
Get excited about the everyday fight.
To the buzzing blooming confusion that is the love of ordinary life.
Why not waste poetry on the love of life?

Girls girls girls
Paint the night & set off the new age with your moon lit luck.
I think your pink days are over and your dark days are getting closer & closer.
I think you might find peace in letting go of whats made you so tough.
That luck might fund you enough till times up.
Dress up and look towards the night.
You look nice in the moonlight.
Run into that grey darkness and paint soft strokes with your white brush.
That you may find love in whats made you sober.

Girls girls girls
You look nice under the moonlight.

For the love of small town colors
I search for you and me.
We are the color orange.

Solvangs bakeries lead the
buzzing bodies to the clocks.
Beyond fresh baked danishes and vexing storms of bees
brews wind strong enough to turn back time.

Winding and rewinding the
red and yellow hours.
They tick energy and happiness to
wake souls
Wake up *
Wake up
Wake up*
alarming with creativity.

In the red hour I feel how my body survives.
In the yellow hour i feel how our bodies intertwine.
In the spaces between I find
red and yellow mixing

for the love of orange.

Here's the cue
I want to pleasure this life.
The heaven and sea soak in my hands.
I got the sky at my fingertips.
I got marina each time she drips.
Soaked, I even thought I'd burst blue
Wet hands and all
Without a single clue
I'd do it again
To celebrate

I painted my nails baby blue for you.

Pressed labels against the glass read
Chocolate, hazelnut, coffee, strawberry, and vanilla.
Two scoops of berry
Two scoops of coffee
Ice cream is sweet. Ice cream is fun.
I scream I love
Ice cream!!!!!
Its all just for fun.
With a hesitant voice and a warm hand
I propose to you
It might be time to leave the ice cream parlor.

Oh but
where would we go?
Soon we'll surely know
We'll go to a new place.
The safe place the one that burns real slow.
Truly, to warm and burn is much more exciting than to cool and freeze.
Trust me you'll like it
Nobody eats ice cream for the brain freeze.

Heat up your thoughts and we'll go on next door.
For here we'll get too cold.
Or maybe
its time to knock on the door of those who think they love you most.

How vanilla

I know what you'll say
"you think too much. stop it."
but I won't
I'll say
"you drink too much. stop it."
but you wont

If we stay promise me you'll pace yourself when you eat ice cream.
I'll add a shot of baileys for your liking.

Real talk
sugar aside
It's not power.
Its the rage of love.
Its the will to do.

Pace yourself when you eat the ice cream and focus on its sweet.
Tell me how sweet is too sweet?
DO YOU EVEN LIKE SWEET?
BEAUSE i love you
i mean i love sweet.

Dizziness sets the spirit free
Among the carousels is the desire to choose
Through the whirl of dreaming and shifting hues
A path that’s toned, a heart that's blue.
I hold on through shades of truth.

Tired mornings greet me, weary and bleak,
As summer's heat whispers fears, I can't speak.
I wonder where this is all going?
Where it's taking me?
Beyond the heat the skies seem so clear,
If only I could see past summers sear.
In the haze of warmth, thoughts entangle,
Yearning for a colder clarity, hot hopes to untangle.

I shut my soul inside this quarry
It's cavin' It's fallin'
my poor soul
It's Hardenin'
A fossil called body emerges from stone
And so I say to all who come close
Mine your own business
Explore your own tomb
I can't wait for erosion
For I am the soul who yearns the second explosion.

I'm home ma.
Tell me that this fast pace family life is just what I needed. The kind that will get me to full from depleted.
I'm tired ma just tell me I'm home and I'll kick off the days with smiles on my face & wont search anymore.
Tell me I'm home and I've found what I was looking for.
That this love is transformed and all I need is the sanctuary. That it doesn't really matter that most **** boys turn out to be sociopaths. That it doesn't really matter how much money you have or how much power you have.
Just let my path be a powerless social one. The kind that keeps me broke & in love.
Tell me im home.
That this family loves me.
That this house really is a home free from deception. That I'm loved more and more with each day that passes.
Tell me I'm home.

Dont drink from garden Inside Blossom Able.
Besides sweet & sour fruits you'll find;
big crimson flowers, small purple flowers, blue ginger and other roots.
In the afternoon she scatters more seeds and prays only the good sprout up to embrace the sun and kiss the moon.
nevertheless, the seeds inside Blossom Able come as a trail mix of bad and good.
Dont drink of the fruits inside Blossom Able for her blood bleeds crimson,  purple and then blue.
Each fruit, each flower, each root
looks just like the last
There's no telling, who is who?
Red haired Blossom Able is rather pessimistic about the long term survival of her gardens youth.
Each night the weeds grow through and through.
Each day Blossom Able cuts through and through.
She looks forward to the time in which she will close her weary eyes, rinse her ****** hands and taste her own fruits.
She wont drink from the garden and neither should you.
One afternoon while spreading seeds of bad and good.
Two plums fall to her feet.
One good? One bad? Two good? Two bad?
She run her hands through her hair to wipe off her blood and then reaches down for two.
You feel that?
The odds of happiness and peace.
Blood drips from her hair as she squeezes each fruit.
The floor turns crimson, purple, and then blue.
Ain't it funny? ,she smirks.
How I'll never truly be able to tell the difference between blood and juice.

Walking above and below stars
So concerned with the constellations.
A life so night you dream awake and sleep to dream of the next day.
This next day tells the tale of a generation moved by art & agape.
Oh tell me what it feels like to be ordinary and world changing.
These ambient bodies build stairs to heavens gates and get 76% on chemistry exams.
These dream filled bodies break through barriers.
They jump over moons and order dairy free off kid menus.
What it might feel like to be ordinary and face the world.
 What it might feel like to both doubt and claim the world.
To touch the elements and not create disasters but phenomenons.
Today these minds are as free as the stars above and below.
Walk on them in clean white sneakers
Jump to them in ***** white sneakers.

Error... try again
You write me love notes.
And I give you headaches.
You write me love notes.
I seem to not get it.
How can I feel the way that I do when you do nothing but love me for me?
You write me love notes.
And I make you regret it.

I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I do.

I love you even after the world ends,
after space cracks and bends,
after the ink runs out of all of the pens.

Please dont forget it

You write me love notes.
And I give you headaches.

I promise you I've only ever wanted to give the greatest love story ever known.

Error...try again.

Visit the holy city of Mecca.
Do not fall in love with the ocean that keeps you from it.
Earth not water
Dissolve into yourself and tell me about the things that make granite.
Count the minerals that keep it solid.
Dont go with the flow know where you are going.
Most of the time its opposite ways the current is pulling.
Let the current go out on its voyage.
Stay here grounded covered in dirt.
Ill start writing in the sand bc they wont write stories about truth.
She told me they dont write stories about you
If you let yourself drown they won't make literature about you.
It never works out the right way for earth just like you.
Earth like you reminds the current that its lonely
Earth like you reminds the ocean current that the water its made of wont birth life out of you.
Drown.
Current said "To the bottom! Quick so I can swim up when you're forgotton and live a fluid life."
Dont go down there stay here be covered in your dirt.
Take pieces of him and be covered by mud.
Dig into the earth until you reach the holy city of Mecca.
Peace be what makes you solid.

Forgive me for the way that I am.
I am
What
I am
Blinded by the tree of good and evil.
Untill these thoughts let me be.
Until these eyes let me see.
I know nothing about what it means to be truly free.
A facade; this isn't me; help; stay away!
I am poison.
I am
The fruit of the tree.

Drown me in a sea of clarity.
Let my lungs take in that which is forgien to them.
That they may fill and learn to be frozen.
No more breaths to confuse me
Nothing more to understand
Lock me in the ocean.
Tie me up in seaweed and throw away the key. Weigh me down with shells and let me fall deep.
That I may feel dead to that which once interested me.
A disinterested beauty with no motives or reasons
No storms or shipwrecks
Only clear waters ahead!
Let this clear ocean be the death of me.
Drown me because I know far too well how to swim.

Gloomy summertime
The skies lied a hundred times.
Made me feel close to life even when it left the last time.
I think these purple and blue bruises feel normal now. These clouds hide the open space and make everything closer. How?
I think it's time to say good bye.
Even though I sit under the same sky.
The different views of love have shape-shifted the skies.

Did you know the real me?
Who knows the real me?
You'll recognize me in the love that cushions my goodbyes.

The clock strikes three in the linear timezone.
A build-up of true love powers the engine that keeps the train thoughtfully on straight tracks.
I can touch you here like creation.
I can taste you here at this station.
We depart from this time to the beehive stage.
With not much to claim but the philosophy of change.
The clock strikes free in the eternal timezone.
Heaven, hell and honey.
When I sit and stare at sticky eyes I am reminded that I am as old as I'll ever be.
It warms me to think we've been growing old together since we learned to breathe.
We've been alive together at the same ol' beehive meets.

buzzing buzzing buzzing
buzzing buzzing buzzing

Making heaven, hell and honey together
without the worry of the clock striking three.
Change will be easy for you and for me.

I don’t want to die, but I don't know how to live.