These routines are seeming endless. the fences round my mind are slowly growing ever-more defenseless. Where these thoughts are boldly mentioned I feel lost of all intention. An abundant sea of words and verbs to satisfy my senses. Where feelings return from the grave and reach for peaceful vengeance.


Through these written cryptic lines, i hope you seek to glean a meaning that revives a thought you thought benign, or an emotion you had lost and forgotten you could find. Compassion does elude us, and inaction makes delusions till we’re rejecting whats been proven, in a life rejecting movement.

Sometimes I think of you.
I think of you showing up at my house
in the middle of a snowstorm
with white roses,
hot cheetos,
High School Musical 3,
and your favorite sweater.
And you'd knock on my door
and I'd come running
and I'd open it up,
and there you would be.
You'd smile at me and whisper,
"I'm so sorry.
I made a mistake.
Please forgive me."
And,
because I love you,
I'd nod
and let you in.
We'd cuddle on the couch,
our bodies tangled in each other,
and we'd whisper,
"I love you."

Sometimes I think of you doing this.
Sometimes I believe that you are planning this.

But,
I don't know,
maybe I'm wishing for a Christmas miracle.
And,
we all know miracles don't exist.

behind my mask of emotions, there are things youd never expect to see
The pain the day causes
The sadness that looking at you makes
The hate for what you made me,
all of my emotions
its all just a lie
a mask to keep you from my deepest thoughts
i never take off my mask
it is what keeps up my facade
i pretend that i am happy and okay
but im not
if you look hard enough past my mask
you will see the real me

Sixty Eight years of age
and he texts her puppy love
msgs six time a day,
in between phone calls.

long ago lovers,
high school, I think,
Facebook stumbled upon,
and the inky surprise,
that they have relearned to be,
a new shade of
a true blue tint of
the word,
devoted.

mushy is the heart that goes
soft to hard to soft,
soft by innocence, then
Pharaoh hardened by life, then,
softened by reflection,
mushyed by wisdom,
that came costly.

when relearning
the side effects of
discovering the words
that were left unsaid,
or even better,

spoke this time with
better understanding,
greater appreciation.

Now so better
After Aging Aching
in an oak cask
of finally, filly fully
fermented love.

I don't need inspiration
to clap for you,
but your confidence un-betrayed,
name omitted,
as one grandfather tips his hat to another,
all he can smiling say,

*******,
romantic rediscovery at 68,
I suspect is even better than the
first fumbled go around.

Lotus blossom frozen on her head
Stone tears falling from many ancient beds
Torn aparts one heart passing on the wheel
How many lifetimes have we bwnn to the other
Mother, Father, sister, brother
Choice no such thing
Given up when the fabric of their flame was sown
Magic was locked inside half her heart
The other half he owned
She is Bran the goddess half
Living blind behind the mask of his
Dark moon eyes
Heard all his lies
And tasted the ******* with bliss of his first wal
As he began to hide himself from others before the fall
Descent
Oh yes she rejoiced a jealous goddess
He belonged bonded by fire only to her
What right did those others have
To taste that first kiss
And to touch with fingers belonging only to her
Humans on earth
Wrapping them so entirely within his wings
Dark secrecy, lust, many other things
So in a rage of passion
She tore the very things that allowed flight
From her back
Oh yes blood flowed red
Descent
Giving up all past memory of true bliss
Every memory of his face, his kiss, his heart
Her dark twin flame forgotten
Nor a backward glance was given
Fallen to earth indulging the passion
Meet and separate time and time again
The wheel rolls on
Blind to the other
The wheel rolls on
So as ages pass some ligering of him
Stored somewhere in her head
Just a vague memory
Would call to her for one brief moment
Bliss remembered
Stolen between the twilight of sleep
And the ending of dreamtime
Great bells ringing, tolling bells singing
Come to me
Hearts beating sirens calling
Come to me
In tunnels of time, in caverns of rhyme
Behind dark moon eyes
Traces of him come calling
Remember
Come to me my torn apart
Dragons tail crosses the sky
Dreaming is ended fall no more
Our flame burns on
Come find me if you will
come find me
You will

real councillors
explaining
over used
explanations
to people who
understand more
than people
believe

dark corners
with mysterious
invisible eyes
visible to those
unlucky enough
to see them
with eyelids
shut

light traces
musings
and patterns
lacing bodies
with streaks
of red
and stains
of pain

toilet bowls
lent over
by overbearing
undernourished
starved and
underweighted
figures
of bones

shaking hands
firmly planted
against brick
walls
cracked bruises
harshly noticeable
and starkly
stiffening

dried tears
only means
they were
wet once

Good dogs,
always panting towards the sun.
The lapping tongues that break;
the mirror of the lake.
The picture of your face,
rolling and broken on its surface,
like I always knew you were.

Here, over the crisp of morning grass.
Here, under the silk of morning skies.
Here, in-between the thighs of time swaying.
Here, we find the dawn, or tomorrow,
now, wrapped together,
in the sweet must of old wool
and fresh sweat rubbing together.
Now like the gap between the second hand settling,
as brief as hummingbird wing beats,
it all rises in front of us,
awake in the warmth of the sun.

Good dogs,
always panting towards the break.
The lapping tongues at dawn;
the mirror of  lake.
The shaken picture of your face,
smiling and open on its surface,
like I always knew you were.