There's a little
boy that hides in
the dark corners of
my soul.
He doesn't want to
be hurt anymore.
I spent eight years
with Beth.
For the most part,
it was hell and
constant pain.
She made nightmares
look good.
I heard the
little boy cry
late into the
silky night,
while snails got
smashed on the streets
of Ventura.

When I drank, which was often,
the little boy seemed
at peace for awhile,
while swans were
murdered in Venice,
and I tasted the ashes
of Neruda.
Years flew by
like seagulls;
up
down
and darting.
The little boy
continued to
hide in the
dark corners of my soul.

He wanted to
come out and be loved.
He was thirsty for it,
but there wasn't
any around.
It was dry, like the
deserts in hell.
It's too late for
sorries, here comes
the plow.

He began to see
the pattern of life.
There are monsters
that walk in the light.
Vulnerability equals pain.
The little boy got mean.
And now he carries
a knife.

If want was water,
I would be drowning, my head under completely
and my oxygen quickly depleting.
If confusion was cold,
My fingers would be numb and I wouldn't even
have a coat to ward off the freezing.
If youth was you,
It would be slipping away by the second,
And I can't get a hold to stop it.
Now,
my air is gone,
I'm shivering to the bone,
and can't keep a hold on.
But, this is only a poem:
I know I'm not suffocating, subzero, or slipping.
But I can't help but feel like the more I write,
the farther I get from reality
and the closer I get to metaphor mortality.

I pick up the pieces
Gently, carefully,
Place them down
In my bathroom sink
Wipe away debris
Collected and caked
Onto your being
I meticulously clean
Each part of you
Warm you up
Pat you dry
Give you back
To the world
And hope you
Don't return here
Broken and filthy,
Yet again.

There’s a knowing kind of unknowingness
when you count on the sun to rise
or feel the moonlight dance behind the clouds
and fear not your own demise.

There’s a peaceful sort of slumber
between this world and the next
where truth and beauty forever dwell
and people are never vexed.

It is a world invisible
to eyes that only see
the ****** deeds and manmade things
of our society.

For in the world of love what counts
beyond the temporal you or me,
is all of us within one Heart
embracing the world eternally.

Dinosaurs were in existence for 160 million years.
**** Sapiens have been in existence merely 200,000 years.
Will humans remain the dominant species on Earth... or are we simply a phase of life that will eventually be replaced? ...and if so, how so? Will mankind extinguish itself? Or is mankind -is the aspect of life itself- some type of chess game played by the Gods of the universe? By Gods of the universe... do I literally mean spiritual Gods and anointed souls... or do I mean the physical and chemical forces that construct and compose the world beyond the world that we live in.
What about dimensions?
Are the crossable?
Should I mention; they say that human beings are the most intelligent creatures alive. We exist and thrive off energies and vibes yet how many of us utilize the potentials possessed within us? Does that make us less intelligent than they say?
But who is 'they'?
Who believes in the extraterrestrial?
Who believes in Magic?
Are dreams a portal to things unforeseen?
Is there a higher power, or are all things reasonable and explainable through the documentations of science?
Have you ever pondered the wonders of Faith?
Does everything happen for a reason, or are all things coincidental?
Knowledge is Power and Evolution is Revolution.

His eyes grew dark and distant
absolutely nothing wrong
He smiled without his eyes
how are you feeling?
nothing, numb, bored

Bracing each other, pushing
                                             out

Fearing the flatline, we find
one another, in the dark

Rubbing the blood back into his palms
he buries his breath in my clean hair
Counting down the seconds, we remember

Leaving the cold room, he asks
is it over now?