light, you trickle through
my life; bursts of
blooms from all angles.
leaves sit still on
the sky. right pause. waiting
up for
a bit later, each
movement. daydreams
of topologies of sun
patches on your skin.
closer, love, i am
walking, in, through the
columns of this theater.
no actor in the hallway,
just your light, around
corners.

just your soft waves,
lapping.

I was wrestling with the vaguest idea
A hint of a notion
When I glimpsed understanding
Like a sip from a magic potion
I witnessed a prophetic cataclysm
It was ablaze in the eyes of the sun
I wanted to tell the world
But I couldn’t find my gun
If you start to feel a little sleepy
You should maybe take a nap
In the aisle of a grocery store?
The Triumph of plastic crap
If I bathe you in the glory
And absolute knowledge of nothing
Will you still tuck me in?
And read me a bedtime story?

I want to be swallowed up
By shooting star's blazing tails
And the universe's
Infinitely expanding space
Black holes and black planets
White dwarfs that supernova
I want to be caught in the debris
Of the chemical dust and gas
Floating on the light
Of a thousand dying suns
We become giants
And we become supergiants
I will exist in the empty space
As air and grit and starlight
I will become dark matter
I will let the dark matter

the motherships are
hovering overhead
& to the east,
apollo breathes fire
past the ******* incisors, like
'try &
catch me now'

now,
or never.

to my west I felt nothing
but the most
uncomfortable comfort.
it's just.
too.
much.

becoming barefooted
clouds of dust I run
to the godlight
& in time I find I
also become
disenchanted.

& I'm just freeezing
& my feet are filthy & bleeding
but
anything for that rush

tell me somethin brother
do ya cluster with the others?
are you some
undiscovered color
in the monochrome gutter?

are you sixsixsix seven
aren't you *** & heaven

dost thou seek
the foul
or the feather'ds;
brother of blood
& sweat,
is thou the sheep
or the shepherd?

wolfman.
we want the teeth.
to the tooth, troopers.

how rude;
I can see right thru
that wool suit
all too true to the stupor,
stupid.

don't you know I know you,
don't you.

My skin is worn and torn
like a coniferous seed
waiting to grow
into
a towering pine
and then into
a ream of paper
that mostly just
becomes crumpled
individually
and thrown out
like a heart
bleeding far too frequently,
forcefully gushing itself
onto innocent polypropylene
white as purgatory.

My new soft shell
is slowly reborn.

I can't provide comfort
with bulging ****** knuckles
and fingertips burnt,
scarred,
and eyesight that
is mediocre at best.

My hands have seen enough days
to bandage abrasion
and let go of hate.

My detachment never ceases;
but to pick up the slack
of a nervous system gone bad
is to live a deciduous life
perpetually changing seasons.

They say that she will be.
And as far as I can see,
I'm sheltered
by some rugged,
broken
skeleton of a
body containing skin.

So how can love be released?
Every day of absorption
but nothing
but self-bullying
blown miles
out of proportion.

Soft skin can
pass love and passion;
but it's the thick,
rugged
flesh
your subconscious
seems to remember.

I am a fingernail
covered in cayenne
bitten to the core.

I am a neuron
running into walls
in a room with no door.

I am
the feeling in your gut
the last time you felt sick.

I am
the feeling in your heart
when it does not tick.

I am a broken tea ***
boiling cold water.

He could never be quite certain
Whether she belonged to him
Or to the sky
This girl with tiger blood
And lazy hair,
For though she slept beside him,
He heard her voice in her sleep
Speaking to all the skeletons of her past
Explaining to them
That nothing caged can fly
And hoping they understand.