i.

The notes are ingrained
by the blue petalled flames,
burning them into my bones.
All other colors fade,
detach,
suspended in a waking dream.


Here, in the lingering lucidity,
this maddening gnaw of pain
leaks the little whispers,
stealing rhapsody from pleasure.

ii.

Tightrope treachery,
a daringly dancing gypsy
spinning about on a narrow wall.

A burning star,

she leaps...

leaving shimmering stardust
in her wake,
balance risked for the
momentum of grace.

A barter between freedom and fate,
perhaps circles of three
will bring it all tumbling
to the ground.

iii.

Ariadne abandonment,
I foam milkweed at the mouth
under the burning moon.

Casting aside
the anguish of this tether,
feeding tinder to an infant rage,
I let its coals singe my soul
while this blazing inferno
carries my fury forward.

I **** the marrow of courage...

Now, I shall deprive the Minotaur of his horns
and roast Theseus' heart upon their tips!

iv.

The flavor of innocence on my lips
has become a sorrowing memory.
In the waking moments, the world
slowly becomes unbound before me,
my wandering is done,
the final marks are made.

And the taste of one too many poppies
tingles on my tongue,
as my voice is laid out on a slab of words.

under the frigid sky i
slow& wonder; somehow
gather hope. pass under
bridges. feel the same, et
cetera- the same, always.(
sometimes, there's no storm.
or, at least, as far as an eye can see.
)sometimes, we get hollow. if i
am, i am
happy& hollow, with you,
though.
                   know this, always.

green and gold were the days i
spent learning the architecture
of your smile. the hues still colour
these afternoons in abstract: small
patterns in the woodwork. an
accumulated sunbeam, late
morning.

continue, sing songs. breathe
most of the time.
someone once
wrote:
               "life is but a joke if
you make it through laughing"

I keep words unspoken,
Letters uncombined,
A theme unwritten.

I write words through moments,
Creating memories,
Leaving a past that lasts.

I profusely give silence,
To those whom try to convey,
And now a loner in a glass fence.

Allergic to socializing,
I keep mine emotions from expressing,
And I retain the evidence of longing.

I keep my days short of being social,
And keep peoples ****** lies distant,
Not famous cause am always Local.

Imagine if it cost your whole days
wages, just to feed on bread;

If external forces made you suffer
The indignity of debt.

Imagine if the war torn middle east
Had a minute's silence for fifty dead;

If Palestine,  Iraq, Afghanistan
Had a minute off for breath

Imagine if a days work came with
a twenty percent chance of death...

Now picture that scene in the Caribbean
Bathing, lounging, plunging, dancing

The preciousness of life it seems
is purely based on address.

& i dont mean physically
you turned your mind off to me
you shut down & backed out
i was staring at the corpse
of the girl that once laughed
she could breathe life into the room
but now youre a walking tombstone
with the words
i rest in pieces
carved haphazardly into the front
now the only peace of mind i have
is that it wasnt me who killed you
it was your own heart
racing faster than a freight train
& when it beats out of your chest
maybe ill see the real you
soaked in blood
& charging for the exit
not unlike the last time we spoke
i swear you threw the door off its hinges
like you ripped our pages
out of the book
& used them to wrap your cigarettes
breathing in our words
like tobacco
feeding off our feelings
like nicotine
you smoked yourself into a stupor
& wiped your mind clean
of any thought of me

[holyoak]