Passion as it waves.
Tidal breaking in and out.
Day time and it's long night.
I dread the coming drought.

If I don't speak while in tow,
If fish don't bite,
If I don't sink below,
If I don't see the blight.

Maybe in the morning,
There'd be light,
Anyways.

Among the flowers where you were told to wait, and listen to the wind.
The sum of it's parts is always late, but what it brings,
A friend at timid pace,
A friend who knows the place,
A friend to tend the flowers,

You knew while you still wait.

To the friends we've lost to insecurity,
To the bodies buried in the cemetery,
Of company,
And their misery.
These anchors may prove more than your shores can bury.

The shipping lanes all close,
And a storm takes on the sea.
Flare guns fire only smoke,
We don't count on a morning's coming,
With cloud cover so thick,
When asked if the morning's close,
The answer is only ever,
Almost.

Your thistle bush affections,
Vibrant feathers for the bait.
Carried by my sock,
And buried miles away.

I feel my spirit drift to yours,
It's not exactly a good thing, is it?
Do we know,
What it was,
All my colours,
And all of yours,
A blur,
A brown,
A morose.

She's a model of imperfections,
Flaws fall on her face in ways that define grace,
She's a goddess without direction.
Her words encourage and lace dreams to a place you can reach if you just believed.
Her upper lip juts out a little too far so her teeth can clink yours in toast to good times when you kiss.
She's a little too short only so you can sweep her off her feet with a little more ease.

Sometimes I think to myself,
Ah!
The World's better off without me.
And then I think to myself again,
Ah!
I'm better off drunk.

Marble skin,
Sculpted clutch,

Solid and tender,
To the touch.

Depth of character,
Length of reason,

A modern day Greek,
In exactly his season.

I wish to learn all the curves of your lips,
How they lie,
How they taste,
How they pray,
How they take smaller creatures,
And convince them to stay.

It's three am.
You want the arms of a man you've never met,
It only takes a bit,
Nibbles on the neck,
Only takes a little lip,
To get a little wet.
Beach day soon,
Summer comes as soon as you do.

We have our whole lives to grow up,
And only so much,
To stay young.

I am not only some peaceful stream of the forest,
Twinkling beneath songbirds,
Watering romancing deer.

I am also the river that cuts through the mountain,
That carves the earth to better fit my ease.

The one bears dare not cross.
The cascading ire,
Raptors are unfit to tame,
With any bellow.

Men will come to know the rocky bottom,
And winding parts,
Men will come to know their helmets and life preservers,
Won't be salvation,
When I say that they shall drown.

These nowhere towns,
Mountain tops snow-capped long through march,
All else,
Enshrouded in brown.

Though people live here,
And seems they aren't broken down.

The paint peels from the motel,
The mother tends to her daze,
The attendant ponders the insects of the sill,
Tumbleweed the only things, un-willing of being still.

Life is good here,
In these hazy,
Background,
Nowhere towns.

I want to peel your skin as I peel your cloak,
Envelope you as any old song goes.
Curtains wail a blistering night,
Between you and I,
And the shutters ghost,
The furnace's spite is all it knows.

Don't be afraid to bloom.
Don't be afraid to be a late bloomer.
Don't be afraid to be a late, late bloomer.
Don't be afraid to be the last,
Late bloomer.
All there is to know,
Is that you will bloom,
And there is nothing to fear.

I feel you in my bones,
Like leukemia.

You saw my innocence and said,
I like that,

Make a wish.

I love those who are far away,
And romanticize the distance.

**** a sweetheart,
Leaving cavities,
Remember me by's,
Memories,
Both warm and unkind.
All just a toothache.

Broken hearts heal like spinal cord repair,
You never walk the same way again.

This is my youth,
These are the days I am beautiful-
And only for a minute.
What do I do with it?
Waste,
As most do.
How dreadfully average of me.

As this world degrades,
And we've had enough of the old ways.

I can only wonder what becomes,
After this new birth,
Decays.

I know this world's rules,
And those before,

And I may know of what comes next,

But I will not know what rules,
As they call the next of next,

The fool.

I wish to leave this place,
If only in mind,
The same way I save my self,
The same way I decline.

I avoid the ocean,
The waves may crush these bones-
I stay safe upon the shore.

Although I may have loved to swim,

At the beach,
My feet,

Remain in the snow.

Lurid pressure in perfect hiding,

Heat rises amidst quiet timing.

Covers conceal fingers,
And skin conceals-

Well,

Only from the blinded.

Flitting breath from lungs to neck,

Begging tongue,
And baiting breast.

Tentative flesh,
Upon tentative flesh,

What comes next?

Anything I want,

If this is,

Yes.

I am the candle,
You are the flames,

I give you vision,
You give me strength.

You are the reason,
That I was made,

But if you get too close,
Then I'll melt away.

Tired eyes,
Half smile,
Sly confidence.

Not trickery,
But captivation.

I may be all in black,
But promise inside is darker,
Haven't you ever heard?
Never judge a book by it's cover.

Mental illness is like burning paper in the daylight.
You can hardly see the flame, but the pages disappear.

I've bled them dry,
How fine how fine,

For once in their eyes,
They now hold no life.

Nor apple seed bloom,
Nor mannequin beheld.

Always too soon,
to be put on the shelf.

If there were a language for walls,

It would mumble,
Per broken jaws.
The sun would shine through fragmented holes,

A windows' lone goal?
To magnify heat,
Til' all was engulfed.

With confirmed dead inside,
None knock, as they've read inscribed:

"Family tree,
Difficulty,
Unavailable."

"Family business,
Buy one,
One comes free,
Fire wood sale."

About the signs,
Red flags,
Or happy notes,
Scented mail-box-pine?

Did they explain in ways that you could hear,
Spell his name in your tongue for your ear,
Draw in the lines from his mirror?
Or was it fear?

The sketch artist quit long ago,
What was the crime,
What was the trouble?

Oil spill words,
Gold that chokes out the birds.
Thought we could be deep,
But only sip from the sea.
And into the bay,
I promise to only stain the sand,
Until you look away.

One part calm,
Two parts storm,
Three parts shipwreck on the shore.

Four parts home,
More parts gone,
All parts missing the calm before.

I'll use the excuse,
I just like the pretty lights.
But if you're looking for truth,
I escape the day through the night.

Pain or pleasure?
A poison picked,
A moment missed.

Ingested,
Until you're sick.

Every measure,
Enticed so quick.

Embraced,
Brick by brick.

Oh,
Hugs of concrete.

I have an eerie feeling that death is near.
This note is left as evidence.

I liked how you talked once upon a time.
But beauty and the beast is black and white.
I'm an all or nothing kind of guy.
Guess I'm not really what you like.

Burnt matches for kindling.
Ashes with embers only painted orange.
Thought we felt a similar thing.
Cigarettes in the moonlight talk a lot more.

So it's over, I know you now,
A body is all you're worth.
So it's over, I know you now.
A little piece of heaven, tasting like dirt.
So it's over, I know you now.
If there's a crowd, you'll say the words.

Found out why you sit a lot by yourself.
Two trains of thought and mine's running out.
Away from you, I hope you're burning,
I won't feel those flames by the morning.

Burnt matches for kindling.
Ashes with embers only painted orange.
Thought that we felt a similar thing.
Cigarette tips in the moonlight talk a lot more.

So it's over, I know you now.
Just a girl.
So it's over, I know you now.
A backroom museum piece.
So it's over, I know you now.
No pictures, please.
No pictures please.

Butterflies turn to moths in the drapery of your stomach.
They spread,
And the feast begins on the fabric lining the masonry of your summit.

Your satin sheets,
The place you come to cradle dreams.
Who knew,
Were vulnerable to these wing'd beasts.