when i imagine, attempt to fathom, the essence of the color red
i am overtaken by the autumn leaves,
i, happily am brought to my knees ,
at the hands of the shivering breeze i,
imagine that the change is as true to the leaves as,
the reality of change, even of the color red, is to me, i
ought to remember flame thrown in crooked sweeps across my face,
fire spat against me when i sought embrace,
anger and hate, hurt and bitter traces of,
memories of crimson dipped lace, it,
was dipped in blood, see i remember that color too, but
if it was dipped in rubies it would look less like her and more like you
then, i might just be able to forget,
the times where she was wordless and my words were spent,
in her mind worth only the spit i spilled from my lips when
i, decided i would in good faith let my love of color loose lips,
shhh, this is not a time for painful trips.
divine roses i think have thorns embedded in their petals
their beauty is more  entwined, inseparable,
than those dying plants i find scattered at the will of God and whimsical gardeners
i have found earth that is so deep rich and red
that i forget about all the dreams i had of my last lover, and past lovers in my bed,
then i realize just how mixed up in my head this color is, i
twist to do what i think is untwist, my
head is wrapped up in this corundum conundrum
, but less i think than the rust flecked fist sized
writhing flesh in my chest, doing its dance more erratically than  explosions from
bombs dropped on cities where i don't live
(why should i care?)
well, red. . .
red. . .
is the color of your hair.

time is money
because its current, see?
I would pay you or get payback
but i dont have time currently
i would settle my debts without dollars and cents
it makes no sense
that no one is with me right now

I might rail, might take the wrong road
might, fail, to hear the morse code
throw pennies on the tracks and hope to make a change
flip switches to trick attentions
i guess i may have another track intended
may be making people notice only things im okay with them not missin
maybe give them my name and not much else,
pass by and remember that train kids dont need much help
(they could always help themselves)

but lets get real

i could turn a dollar into more
change if a quarter was worth for names
asked from people,
stories, i could give them two
for each way
life has treated them like it's treated you
i could feed them once with no fast food
in sight, I, could
invest, gamble, roll the dice
and expect more than crap when i
first, not second, give them even a second of my life

disregard my self inflicted fun,
forget my little ticks and triggers, and tricks ive rendered,
signifigant
lay down my hands, they quiver, and sweat, im shivering,
im not serious enough to hold a gun to
my own head, not hungry enough to
make someone else eat lead

i could help find hope where its lost because the truth there is lacking
speak life in the streets where people are cracking
and stumbling home to slum thrones,
garbage cans the only thing theyve got to sit on,
to **** in,
their pillows only hard times and peoples harsh tones,
dreams gone, face down, can only see grime and cobblestones
shaped like the next **** day
and moving on
again,
less than a fox theyve got no hole,
but we all act like they just shoudlve known
better, than to set out on their own,
like we're less broken and more whole

we should speak hope,
but no.

it might rain, we might get soaked
undoubtedly there will be pain,
and there's never enough soap,when we
shake the hands of those hobos

we are tired of looking for something different with the same hints,
tired of looking for new colors with different hues
theyre still the same people, must be the same clues, ignore them,
theyre even all wearing ruined clothes,
they havent sobered up or dried out,
theyre worth about  as much dryer lint
you want to argue?
okay, no. ****.
thats what you meant.


when it comes to whats current, whats common
we say why not stay soaking wet
why not flow with the currents, and sink to the bottom,
well, as you wish,
forget change, we'll throw ours in fountains when we visit malls
i was there yesterday, it didnt cost me a thing.

we say
why not remember
that money more often than not brings rage and riches, rags on people til they need stitches
spikes need and hunger and breeds unscratched itches,
but it can pay for needles and
women lay on their back for a ruble,
a nickel, swallow the bitter truth just like...well... um
let's just say
not one of us cares about em

sadly i think it's us whove lost our scruples,
is that what theyre calling it nowadays?

why not scratch them anyway?
why not always wear the trends that fade?
become the thing that fades, to gray?
away...
why not say
okay?

I've got a feeling that I say a lot less
than my words wish to or attempt to express
I am a catalytic for healing, revealing, and relieving our mutual distress,
but trust, I'm as broken or more than the rest,
and i have something to give but i'm not sure what that is, so,
I'll do my best to release each thing that is in my hands,
to align and realign my motives, to show and show again,
the only thing i know is
exactly what you need.
I will allow nothing,
horrific even or grotesque,
to make me leave,
because you are beautiful and beautifully addressed,
as a daughter of a king,
it is a privilege for me,
to be so barren,
in a way i am undressed,
I will fight my best not to be ashamed of everything i throw before your feet
emptiness unfurled, i will not fake comfort
but i pray i do not fear to cast my pearls,
after all, you are not filthy, nor swine,
but clean, and a girl.

I would know you.

Terrified already and i haven't even  began to be able to express
all that I've realized with this vulnerableness
I have begun to helplessly and at the hand of God invest
i don't understand at all and i find little rest
in the fact that I've said the same words to a lover but they didn't likewise
peel back the skin to reveal the heart, or sometimes, in some places
the lack of one in my chest

You're unsure if i am even worthy to know
and granted i understand that before you've
heard the antagonist of what you've been shown
but to hear that, be shut down, when so far, so hard i push,
to open places in you closed for ages past,

I am not struck with rage but with confusion
, and pain, and paint on faces,
that i can see through but do not know what lies behind
the transparencies, and their clarity,
do not ease my mind

God i am trying.

sit here, tempt, try lines, smiles and uncertainties,
truth tangled in the question of the why behind the reasons i
understand that you will run and hide away, but understand,
i am uncertain why but i must stay, that i can conceive
not of a single thing that could possibly make me leave you alone
i want to get to know you, break through  the way that you think that you are stone
through the cold, break through all the strangleholds
that tighten tick by tick, inch by neck bruising inch
i want to see you breathe, i want to see you set free
but tonight i feel your pain, and great though it will be
i do not leave.

laid bare before you but not by your own hands
as naked now as the night i joined my soul to hers or more
i am clothed
and yet inexplicably driven to connect to you
i lay open the wounds that still gape with
holes perfect to press fingertips open into, perfect to re open
no sugar, no sweetness in my voice, no manipulation, my words barely even my choice,
choked out, almost choked out, but surviving
to make it through my throat and past my lips
teasing my eyes to tears i can barely breathe through
i am see through
and
you don't even know if i am worth getting to know
but somehow, someway i will show
you the truth
i am as worth getting to know s you.
that this nakedness is not my way of trying to get you naked
it is no ploy to gain power over your scattered, shattered heart

Do you remember when everything we had
was just merry go rounds and shared
words and tears
shed over others
over several years
and not between ourselves
when our scars were the shapes
that childishness could still hide
and for the sake of others we put our desires on secret shelves
and we still talked and there were still lines to read between
and hide behind
and we used to walk and together lose our minds
in parking lots sitting in trucks
bad to the bone - thats what those moments were to us-
when windshields scattered tears of the sky,
and as much as we laughed we really wanted to cry-
do you remember when you told me that you get scared in thunderstorms
so i always came to see you when it was raining
do you remember? Before i called you baby?
I still wanna be that, and i  am missing it lately
i'm sorry, but i'm sorrier those days escape me.