I imagine ghosts exist, if only to float and dance through the mist.
Not remembering who or what they are.
They don't speak, they don't weep
Instead they howl, gut-wrenching
Echoing down emptied halls.

They pass through spiders spinning webs
brushing the dust off statue heads
Forgetting names, or important places
They don't speak, they don't weep
Instead they wander, broken
Peering through ***** windows.

I imagine they prefer to haunt empty homes
Places like them, left alone
Gutted hollow, naked rooms
They don't speak, they don't weep
Instead they haunt, barley noticed
Wailing for their names

She used to come to me in whispers, hushed under the calm of the early morning.
"Just like her, just like her, you know you are"
I ignored the noise for years.
I had almost forgot to listen, he made me forget.

A fairy tale prince, riding in on a steed to slay my whispered monster
It starts that way, like a story book or a poem.
the weight of words lift
kisses on my forehead
Whispers can't be heard over a heartbeat next to mine.

It starts that way, all beauty and shine
somewhere, at some point, things grey
Whispers return, a little different this time
"He'll see, just like her. You know he'll leave. Just you see"
They devour the peace.

I remember now, as the monster comes scratching, rapping
her tired song
I remember now the lyrics to her curse
the endlessness that gathers, pouring dirt and sand
burring me slowly under

Just like her

Peel back the scales
the blackened bits
the blistered redness
the purple putrid scabs
inside are paper thin cuts
unhealed

The edge of me has never rounded
it remains sharpened
razor cuts are dangerous
The muscles within choke
bent and barbed in wires

A fatal heart never takes a beat
sealed meat, so tender
A cage can snap closed like a vice
pounding at the cellar door
echoing through the halls

What is it about that visceral sting?
A slap laced in venom
Oh, how it rips the skin
tearing our scars clean
Opened to the air,
the wounded will scream

A sophisticated song
Rupturing a forgotten well.
What is it about that sting?

Painful cuts bleed masterpieces
Our art is within
The viscous call it out
The hurt pours the shroud
What is it about that visceral sting?

His smile never met his eyes
expressions shatter
tensions flow
lips flash a twitch, truth hides

Remember still the evil grin
Telling one lie
Leaving behind another
respect is flattering
charming

He tells you one thing,
Then decides another way
Left is right when he wishes
Where do these conversations lead?

Respect is fenced by thorns
Underneath the petaled flower
She'll draw blood if provoked
Graze the blackened storm

Its here, this hurricane

Blow by blow, these scars are torn
Pillaged memory, lost feelings
Beyond a road I don't wish to walk
The hammer stings the lonely stone
Calling our names

Frisk glasses pure of wine,
background noises remedy the rhyme
Calice fingers ***** the vines
Grapes bleed purple, roots entwined

Pause and bask in sweaty sun
The star of heat
A meadow overrun
All the while the vines grow
up the house on Willow Road

People forget to enjoy trees.

I like to pass the time
on car rides
watching the stray branches
bending in variations
whooshing in the breeze.

Sadly in between these emerald giants
are wires
black and distracting
the pattern spanning

I watch for the eye catching greens
and suttle browns
waving at me as I pass.

I always wave back.

These salted tears blur the view
you hammering at my heart.
Blow by blow
the world fades some more
and all that was is folly

In the beginning when Adam met Eve beneath the canopy of paradise
they agreed on most things.
They basked in the perfection of all that surround, laughing at each other's jokes.
One day Adam carved a gift for Eve.
Tirelessly wildling the branch of an oak tree.
"Tools", he boosted as she stroked the small utensils.
"I'll call them forks," said Eve happily setting the table.
What came next sparked an age old debate, as Eve grasped her fork in the left hand, Adam in his right.
"What are you doing?" he vexed, scratching his head.
"That hand is incorrect!"
"Tis not my sweet, it is the hand I use to eat, I am in my right mind my dear, you are the uncultured one here!"
And so it began, as they reproduced.
Cain was right handed as was Seth, but poor Able was born with his mother's fondness for left.

I watch the yellow grasslands growing slow,
safe inside my window frame where heartbreak can not reach.
I'll remain the captured queen silently content with my small space.
My conscious clean, no blood to stain.

The golden beast of the sahara soaks in the open fields.
Afraid of no one and nothing but hunger.
Crowned long ago, his reign will outlast the wars, the floods, the drought.
Hands enormous enough to ****, gentle enough to love.

I remain, eyes fixed on the beast as he belts a roar.
The sound vibrates my glassy outlook, coaxing a scream of my own.
Salty tears and shuddered cries, break the crusted lips.
Pain erupts, long lodged deep in the gut.
The broken wail of majesty, shakes lose the inner me.

"What a day I had"
said the high heel to the boot.
"Up so many stairs, my heels are pooped!"

"You think that's rough, I have you beat.
Try treading mud, in the foulest feet!"

"It's rough out there, for shoes these days,
with all the gum, the mud and rain!"
The boot, nods back
The high heels right,
shoes should really be on strike!

"Let's quit, heel
take a trip
Finally we can truly live"

Somewhere beyond the hast of commerce,
where noises sing rather than shout.
I know of a place under a canopy of emerald leaves, haloed in the sun.
Creatures come to crawl and fly, soaking the bounty growing natural.

Moments of stillness blow soft, carrying stresses away.
It's a place owned by the trees, they bend to greet travelers weary of their cage.

A place I long to stroll,
where summer kisses all that lives
and wildness sprouts within

I hold on to my anger
I give it a home
I live with the anger
I ignore the noise

With anger my lover
I'm stronger, brick and stone
With anger by my side
I burn hot, never cold

I stroke my anger's ego
in return he strokes me
cuddled in close
hatefully warm are we

If ever anger leaves,
I may shudder the cold
but perhaps with out anger
love's embrace could grab hold

It's not easy admitting the spots of your being
that make you dark.
Sometimes there is beauty in the starry nights
while alluring and alive,
these far away places free the thoughts that cage the mind .

I'll stare and wonder, swirling in the starry luster, light years from my pain
Are my problems, problems at all?
Perhaps life is bigger than the rot cratered in the sands.

The blackened sea so vast and strange
Can calm the smoke of heavy emotions
I'll stand and whisper a simple phrase.
I am not alone

My thoughts illuminate a face of cool regret
while feelings grow hot behind her shaded eyes.

I know not what to say
Her windows do not glow with emotions
Wisdom has gone home, afraid to entertain without the sweetness of ice cream.

A distortion of combating ideas
floating here and there,
salient among the scatter objects
left today, to be swept under the rug tomorrow.

I could say I am sorry
and she could forgive
but Rome wasn't built in a day.

I'll open my windows instead of my mouth
no words, just open books
staring.

A box of rusted feelings hides in the salvaged yard of my mind.
Jagged sorrows and broken promises surround the dismembered machinery,
forgotten and guarded.

The old dog with his once beastly growl, no longer cares who leaves or stays.
The dirt below, slowly pulling
forming his final resting place.

Shabby parts like tired looks rot under thunderstorms of powering weather.
Torn threads like once relationships, patched and torn asunder
The Stacks pile high, a top the years of mistakes
The box slowly sinks
heaving more and more heartbreaks

There are tunnels to places with holes in the world.
The bottom is endless where darkness endures .
I can hear from the top, a voice pulling me down.
The twinkle captures my thoughts in a rhythm of sounds.

I've walked passed the rabbit hole too many times.
Choosing to remain unscathed by it's crimes.
And every day I wander back to its door.
Enraptured with the calling and dark of it's world.

Each morning I linger at the base of the hole.
Lulled by the melody, seeping below.
Time crashed to a halt standing perfectly still.
My head is a maze, completely robbed of my will.

I reach down with hands, both clean and warm,
to feel the dirt and cold pour out of her core.
I know that I shouldn't, I know that I might,
take a trip down the hole and be back before night.

Obsession grows, taking root in the mind.
Dragging me down, one day at a time.
As I sit by the hole contemplating my dive.
I slowly spiral down without ever knowing why.

There are tunnels to places with holes in the world.
There are those that will dive and those that will swirl.
There are those that will fall without knowing they have.
Fatality drowning in darkness stuck in a trap.

For in her eyes
lie solemn cries
Irises of icey blue

With in her mind
You will find
Voices playing tunes

First, they sing
Last, they sting
Screaming, screaming
Hear them ring

They tell her lies and sprinkle truth
They lure her soul into the blue

Can you see her eyes
How they truly cry
Irises of icey white

Can you find
With in her mind
The answers of the night

If all around me the world was ending,
The here and now collapsing breath by breath
Would you be standing close to me
whispering how we met?

Would your hand be warm,
flush against my cheek?
Brushing tears from falling,
rushing like a creek.

If brimstone fire flames rose high,
Scorching all that live
Would you cast a magic spell,
a protective cage to give?

If all the lights were smothered out
and darkness sank across the ground
would you stand tall against the black?
Your heart, my light bulb, forever bound?

My dearest violet, my tempered thorn
With every word dropped like water to a petal
your vibrant exlicer powders my heart with bruises.

Yet I return each day, bowed before your feet
hands begging for more violence.
I'll take your cold throws
fully addicted to your touch.

I know not what I am,
though I exist, I persist in the acts of wondering
Am I here?
or are you there?
How does Einstein know which way is up?

If you live, long after you were born
long after your death,
would your light still show
Could you call it forever?
Or is it just another breath?

Would you call it a moment
or something much more potent.

I know not what I am
I see only stars, forever they spread
out past the future,
out near the end.

Have you ever met a shadow,
one that was not your own?
Such complicated creatures,
such dark and twisted souls.

No eyes, no mouth to speak
they stalk in silent haunting.
Shadows know no bounds,
they walk beside in taunting.

Have you ever ask a shadow,
who or what they are?
Have they ever answered
or left you with a scar?

We like our shadows,
know no bounds
We haunt and stalk in silence
shading these hollow grounds.

Blushing bleeds
dark against the ivory
We are here in between the hours
watching breezes
with pink flushed skin

I've felt vanity's edges
slick porcelain corners
pain is a passion
Lips tangle me in thoughts
smokey rage, sultry flesh

You hunger for what waits below    
Eternity vents holy hymn
swept in between your lustful murmurs
no perfume lingers
once licked clean

I've broken the ledges
torn and slit open
rolled in lust and pain  
Faking the climb
Come follow me, not far
I sing witchcraft    
while blushing

Satin ribbons of galaxy blue sparkle
mild, but melting
they hang from the hair of a sweet gentle head
raven, but silky

One tear to spill for delicate tosses
strands so inky and spellbound in blue
Tides of strands so vast they ripple
whisps glimmer the breeze
smelling of coco and brandy

Bright beams of beach sky all around
waves of plenty
magic images fade
blue afternoons stand still

Conscious or not, my will had a way
feet tend to limp along
dragging a shuffled sound

If power comes from within
where is it hiding
perhaps hanging by the bay
waiting for a ship to carry her
wave by wave

Feet bare and scarred, limp toward the edge
scabs pinch at tired flesh
skin of leather fights gnawing winds
trampling the barren land, where graves begin

The shoe fits this haggard beast
he no longer roams the church of priests
no faith is left, no judgement thrown
A mountain up, a cliff below

One item left behind in folly
atop the edge a haunted body
time can cut emotions thin
shadows linger where soles have been

The potency froths the glass in ghostly embers.
Rectifying a suppressed kiss.
Liquid's juicy lubrication sweats
as the icy voice asks,
refill my void.

Fingernails cling
like thorns to skin.
Waterlogged and fogged,
my footsteps fall,
sloppy little domino.

Mindful thoughts yank at drunk appendages.
One too many benders, far too many hands.

Awake, the memory kaleidoscopes.
Pieces unmatched.
Strange images fade,
meshed in sheets.
evidence stains.

I could not tell you the truth, even if I wanted,
throat thick with lies.
No one knows the truth.
Truths are but angel sonnets, beckoned by divinity.
The truth is not the truth
it's an idea or a feeling.
My truth is painfully sad.
Compressed and bitter.
Inside I'm crumpled.
plagued with the horrors.
I can not smile from the inside out
I can only fake
There is no truth here
You alone make things worth the fight
Seconds of sunlight pillar on your face
Then comes night, all distinguished
And my truth is all around
You may not see it in my face
And no words can express,
but inside I'm broken
breaking every day.

My words are like liquid,
spilling over the ledge of my mind.
A mountain range of phrases, separated by time

In between the vibrancy that spills from the here and now,
memory tapers like ribbons

Your face is a noise,
grey and faded in my mind
like the static of a lost TV channel

It's a remembrance out of focus but never gone
The noise of it's crackling spins in the background

I ignore the pained feeling of your image disappearing
for your essence was never lost
It sparks like a static charge
electrify my skin
settling the spirit

By candlelight I love thee
but the quality of my professed love
depends on the lasting of the candle wax

The fiery temptress lulls me from my writing
She dances her shadowy skirts
feathering across the walls of my bedroom
Wax fading, light dimming

So seductive is her lullaby
My pen trails
My love fades
aimed instead at the low light
her orange glow, a goddess's
and my droopy eyes wilt
smiling in her warmth

Ridges cut sliver thin
etched inner folds  
with iron flint.
A mold once smoldered,
crimson, no longer.
Cooled, bent to the hing

The hollow string, mellow hole
Vibrates a trickle mile
I took the turn of my lover's choice
Singing all the while

Her flat tune, was missing you
Her hair a nasty knot
I captured what I knew
and hailed the bitter tune
Missing
On the trickled front

With out the bass
No jug in hand
I long for vibrant stings
Blistered hands
And bitter things
Long forgotten
Come the spring

The lightest hints of honey
A rich muggy scent of dew
Scents of the east
As the sun slowly rises
Brilliantly orange and shockingly sweet
And the lightest hints of honey
Stirs your mahogany cup of brew
And the rich drops of dew
It's that which I breath
Your skin a perfume

The storm flashes white strobe lights
illuminating the soppy landscape
Thunder rolls the hills
crying in loneliness

Alone tucked under the constant strumming of grandfather clock
I am burdened
Weighted down by tornado thoughts
swirling twisters in and out

There is a haunting silence that slices,
in between the booms of night's tantrum
a silence so thin,
the cracks in the hardwood whisper low
They speak of chilling steps lead by ghosts
of wandering hopes, gypsy breaths and thoughts untold

The fire shrinks, flames frightened by the storm
the lights flicker, electrical surges spark
skin crawling fear inches closer
wrapping it's claw up my back

Panic comes with each heave of air,
the silence hovers like spirits crossed over
my eyes wander the four walls, pained in glass
anticipating the boom
The sudden strike that fills empty room
lighting shattered

Wishful thoughts float inside a pretty melody
Sullen voices pour the silky wine for me
This darken red fills me
And your absence will drown me

The stool in which I sit
Has a deep impression
As if my *** were made for it
The feel of my glass is wet
As my breast is set
heaving with regret

Have you ever felt my sorrow?
Has someone ever broken what was borrowed?
Holding clutching then crushing
A delicate flower

This hollow withers still
No matter how much wine I fill
No matter how many tears are spilt
No matter really, if time can heal

Because agian this feel will rise
Above the sunny beauty of life
Its burrowed in deep
Depriving of sleep
Holding and clutching then claiming
My keep

If I see you again, with hope in your face
If we pass by, the same little place
Please remember our laughs and forget the mistakes
For my hallowling heart needs
to mend from its breaks

The stars are but ghosts, hanging in the blackness of night.
Like phantoms of a life so far out of reach, they speckle our skies reminding us there is more.

Stone cold rocks inside my chest
Boulders that can't be moved
They grow heavy on solum days
Mornings of greys and blues

My heart begins to harden
Slowly it turns to stone
My lungs start icing
I freeze down to the bone

Weighted down by stone cold rocks
Rocks made of worry
Rocks made of pain
Rocks made so heavy
Rocks kept in vain

Sculpted to a statue
by thoughts in my head
Cold are the days
my chest weighs like led

I can't remember if I told you,
but I like it when you stay.
You don't have to say anything
only music should play
You don't have to pretend anything
only our truest selves remain

I can't remember if I told you,
but I like to see your face.
You don't need any makeup on
only bare skin to grace
You don't have to look anyway
only your truest self remains

I can't remember if I told you,
but I love it when you stay.
You are next to me,
only soft hands at play
You don't have to look away
my loving touch will remain

I need you to stay.

The winds sing, oooo
The night purred low
slow and soaked
I heave a sign
Collecting a broken choke
And continue home
My mind like smoke
Alone
I listen to regret
Playing in my head
The world so still
The night so dead
Sings a sorrow song
To the moon
The winds sing oooo

When you're a half of a whole
Composer comes and goes
Tempers stand in the way
Then beneath the layers
of unshed pains
together you face today

Each step, a mirrored dance
Each breath, a fighting chance
Laced with another
Tied together

It can be suffocating
Your every thought invaded
By the considerations of another

Days that bring rain
Weigh down heavy on love
When it's forgot

When you choose to be one half
You take the good and the bad
You will never be one soul again
And your comforted by only him

While he frustrates
While he yells and berates
He koves you and you see it on his face

When you're a half of a whole
Your life is not your own
It is a gift given
And you share it
Willing

A dragon came to my window on last night's silver winds.
Her rainbow wings set like sails, carrying scales and limbs.

Claws of tiny knives, perched the ledge without a sound.
Steamy breath escapes, shrouding her giant frame in clouds.

The beauty of the creature, no mortal could deny.
Hypnotized by the majesty, it's logic I deny.

I ponder her countenance, good or evil, friend or foe?
And without much debate, I find my feet have touched the floor.

To the window latch I stride, drunk with disillusion.
I lift the lock, then push a shove, force the frame to loosen.

The silver winds billow forth, crisp with scented magic.
The dragon calls out, her ancient voice, deep and warm with passion.

She promises no harm would fall me, that dragon's don't attack.
She invites me for a twilight ride, across the moon and back.

The night hovered darkly, under wide spread wings
I, the small explorer, grab hold of the dragon's scaly skin

Aloft the great beast, soaring high above those below
I am tickled with a simple feeling, ready and willing to explore

I turn and wave goodbye to my tiny window ledge
Swirled in magical feelings, my dragon soars the winds

Last night I sat lonely
Wishing for things that could never be
Out my window the moonlight bright on the garden stones
speaks to me

I putter to the gates
Perhaps among the rose bushes
And Lilly beds, I will find
nourishment in nature.

I sit in casted moonbeams
still wishing for things, that could never be
no solace in the garden green
just alone beneath
a midnight scene