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Is this our only season? Have we by jaded hearts and mediocre reason
Undone ourselves at the seams from each other, unraveled all that we used to be
I knew things were changing but I didn’t know that they were disintegrating
Is this our only season? Is this how it all ends?  
Will you be another person I never forget, but who I never get to love the same again?
Have those hardass roses in the garden that spent forever too scared to bloom but doing a hell of a job surviving - have they just died?
Have the colors gone from my heart like they did when I lost the color in my eyes?
Is this our only season? Will we turn out to be perennial lovers?
Or maybe even lovers that bloom in rarity once in so many years – twice in a lifetime if lucky?
My pen has no eraser
its end inks over my soft skin
etching errors over the places I've been
inscribing the essence of the sins I've sinned
My poems saved me
like tattoos that allow me to
explode poetry into the external
to be remade, remodeled
like a sprinkle of ink syllables
creative release in the form of an ink fit.
I'd leave it if I could, I'd want to and I would.
But simply I can't stand and that's the stance I’ll take.
And its how I get by day after day .
my poems save me.
Begging to have our eyes opened
we spend our days prayin or smokin
Sayin wer'e looking for something higher, higher

We walk on solid ground just as timidly
as the ripples  rippledthrough the Galilean sea
broke scared
broke scared around peter and Jesus' feet

write deep music deep music  
but we won't ever sing it in public
because we're afraid that we'll find
that when it hits the ears of the audience
it won't be worth the words we spent

the truth is

we look for
the Sermon in the suicide -
moral in the ****** of five

the truth is, the truth is
sometimes it's hard to find
Inspiration and two lines from a quote by joan didion
Begging to have our eyes opened
we spend our days prayin or smokin
Sayin wer'e looking for something higher, higher

We walk on solid ground just as timidly
as the ripples  rippledthrough the Galilean sea
broke scared
broke scared around peter and Jesus' feet

write deep music deep music  
but we won't ever sing it in public
because we're afraid that we'll find
that when it hits the ears of the audience
it won't be worth the words we spent

the truth is

we look for
the Sermon in the suicide -
moral in the ****** of five

the truth is, the truth is
sometimes it's hard to find
Native American necklaces, doing a dance on that neck of his
The wolf and the eagle entwining in lovely loyal leather bindings
The eagle with clay in his claws like prayer he won’t let go of
Empty air in the teeth of the wolf but his hope to be filled feels enough
Scars raked through your lion’s pride but hidden by your mane
You’ve got Native American necklaces that look like mine but I don’t even know your name
Absorbed in tribal metaphor, enthralled by nature’s sound
Bowed with face and hands and knees to dirt, but your roots aren’t in the ground
I see you beg to understand, I see you beg for touch
And leaves reach out and jump from trees, it’s enough but it isn’t much
They brush your skin like the fingers of a long lost lover
One you remember from a time before you were born from your mother
And you, You beg for more and bathe in a waterfall
as with the water cracking on the cliffs
you see your heart beat apart, reminding you of the gift
the name you were given, written
on a white rock,  living
inside you from the beginning, spinning your head
as you realize you are
alive
and it’s written across your spine in indelible ink
and every step you walk is another breath that you take
grinding it deeper into the bones in your back

the wolf isn’t always white and black
his fur tends to be gray
but the eagle
is two
colors
On the day he falls and the day he flies away
CRITICISM AND QUESTIONS WELCOME, I WANT TO MAKE THIS ONE INTO SOMETHING I CAN BE PROUD OF.
Is there any such thing as always?
For sure forever is a fairy tale, or so i thought
broke down after my best attempts at building bridges
so i could still
walk all over them
and then
had my eyes Un-jaded by a jagged re-creation
so that i could see all the blazes that i left in my wake
all the floods of fire that i set for my own sake
realized i had forgotten that there is always one
always. . .
that there is for sure just one forever
she still makes my chest burn
but this time it's not warmth, it's fire...
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