don't look at the clock
do not look at the skyline
close your eyes and lay

I wish to fall away in a dream. Sometimes I wish to never wake. And they say it's just a phase. And they tell me to pray, but the miracle of a god cannot wash this away.

And they are willing to tell me who I am, what I want. They tell me my dreams and desires when all I want is to be free.

I wish to fall away in a dream, much like the ones where I felt every bit of me panic as I fell. But I wish not to be wretched awake. I only wish to escape.

I wish to kiss your
jawline and gaze upon the
starlight. What a wish.

the sky is screaming
pouring an intoxicating pitch into my broken eardrums
this toxic melody violently shaking my brain, leaving small ripples on my flesh like the waves of an ocean

moist palms cupped around the curves of my ears
enough to dull the angry cries from the skyline
the sky is screaming

but I don't want to hear

dandy lion dreams
caked dirt on my worn out knees
i drink from the sky

ive managed to lace my head with hallucinogens and watch the bees rest in my eyes. pale blue is the sky as their wings buzz in unison. i can feel the silk petals nestled in my skin.

i wish to taste the clouds even more. white shrouds of dreams wrapped around my tongue. funny how the sun melts me down like a candle. funny how i still find myself in my bed.

small secrets pour from your pores
a poor soul wrapped inside your flesh
feverent sweats
complacent attempts to envelope me in your sorrows
tomorrow the sun will set and by then I would hope to have forgotten your face
tomorrow I will pour myself another drink and think about poor you
tomorrow you will intoxicate my evanescent daydreams
I pray they don't take me far from the shore of reality

before the sun falls
before the black descends
before the stars shine like broken glass

sprint across the sky before the moon comes to wake
before the arch of the crescent glistens like a blade

and when you reach the finish line lean forward towards the light of the setting sun and hide
pull a vail of fluorescence from a
writer's lamp
and warm your throat with *****

red stripes of blood
stolen pearls as stars
a white house built with bones
the pledge, a discreet battle cry
a trail of tears we ride upon

How does the sky know I miss you? Has it found a way to read my mind because every time I think of you it always seems to rain?

How do I manage to maintain my rough countenance and undisturbed facade? When the sky screams I know not what to do. Where do I run? Can you even hear me at all?
They say there is a god above and they say a devil resides below, but which way is your soul?

I don't know.
I don't know where I'm fit to be.

Can you hear me?
Can anyone?
I'm screaming with the sky and the rain pouring from my eyes.

Can you hear me at all?

I am skin and flesh and bone
held together by spider web capillaries originating from the center of my chest
intertwined into a beating heart
I am hydrogen and oxygen and carbon
amalgamated
slated
into a living breathing creature
expected to stand upright and take pride
maybe we are deaf
maybe we are blind
we remain unconscious to the make of human nature
faced by the reality that we are beyond skin and flesh and bone
what remains in our heads a computing system?
what we are missing is emotional composition
the brain is beyond a structure of tissue and nerves
but serves its purpose as the mother board letting the gears of our mind speculate upon what the eyes have been taught to see
we are supposed to be efficiency
the future and our history
so if we've lived so long in the confinement of our world
what is the mystery?
our skin will never sting as cold as metal
until our brains have switched off for eternity
our movements will never mirror the rigid motions of machine
until the circuits of life have switched off in our bodies
and reverse rigor mortis has set siege to our lifeless shells
so why is death the warning bell of what we're doing wrong?
working ourselves in blazing heat
our bones clacking in winters storm
no meter to regulate the stress wearing us down
our joints swinging on hinges as we grow old
our limbs forever pounding in syncopated rhythm
this is not living
this can't be forgiven
when will we stop seeing blindly
when will we cease
and ask ourselves
are we man or machine?

the taste of her light moans still linger on my tongue
mixed in with my morning coffee I still taste her
still hear her panting
begging
lusting
for me not to stop
don't stop
keep going
the rosy peaks of her *******
still in the palms of my hands
my lips taking a drag along the minuscule curves of her neck
her beckoning whispers telling me not to stop
I didn't
stop

everything I write is true
no theatrics or false feeling but emotions I've learned to subdue
in a world where my sickness is seen as unfit to express what I'm going through
no fictitious fables
I'm unstable and standing on this shaky platform of impalpable words
one day I'll become too senile to know the simple verbs and nouns that kept me grounded
I'll wither young like a youthful clover exposed to an unforgiving heat

honey coated lips,
passionate kisses ,like hot
tea, coat my spirt.

shouldn't we be more than we are now
in another plane of existence I know we must be
two lovers wrapped in crisp sheets under the rise of dawn's glow
I can almost feel the pads of my fingertips brushing your caramel chest
...almost
you're awaiting my arrival as I succumb to sleep
proudly tasting your lips in the astral realm
intertwined in the abyssal cosmos
our toes grazing the Milky Way
and for a moment I know just what your sweet flesh feels like against mine
it's all real until reality presents itself
snapping my eyes open to the grey
alone and cold
anticipating our next date in the evanescent macrocosm

These four walls are my companions
The one window is my escape
But I still sit in this room converting my dreams into ink blots shaped like letters
I’m stagnant in my own monotony
I can hear myself chuckle at my own thoughts
My own...
Everything I have known is my own
Everything I see belongs to me…
Maybe I am the root of all of my demons
Unfortunately i am the ghost in my machine
In the end i sit alone
Documenting the same range of melancholy through my typewriter
Everyday it clacks in monotone
And everything is the same
What’s outside?
I’ve forgotten. Was I free yesterday? What about the day before?
I can’t remember anymore.
Was i typing a letter?
A note? A list?
A scrap of poetic literature to emphasis my overbearing loneliness?
Everyday I stare at the door
But I cannot muster the courage to pull upon the one object that will let me go
Life is easier here
Life can never change
Security in Monotony
Freedom encaged
My mind is free to wander and my body free to walk
My voice is free to shout
I am free to cry, to pout, to scream in anger
I am free
Maybe…
I am free...

moonbeams in my glass
intoxicating my soul
****** off the night sky

so this is it.
the ending.
the middle.
the beginning...I'm not sure
lately days have managed to blur my vision
I know no transition
I know dissociation
to pull myself from what is real
lately days run past in hyper speed breaking the wall between my sanity and the insane
and it aches when I think about it
confronting it in the cold confines of what I call my home

midnight thoughts about
a man that will never be
mine...my mind won't rest

love, please breathe me in
like fresh peppermint tea leaves
I want to be yours

I've fallen
fallen fast and far into a soul ******* oblivion
and this pale darkness
I feel it caress my shattered mind
the shards fragmented into the half of my heart that belongs to me
no fractured limbs
or bruises
or freshly torn flesh
but a limp and pale ego resting by my side
I close my eyes
and wait to be engulfed by my passion
cut the wire and let me float
I don't need oxygen

I desire to feel my belly swell
preparing another life
protruding promises of a perplexing nature
a plethora of predecessors piling from my womb
Let me be a creator of Strength and all the divine in the form of bright eyed chocolate children of my design
Offspring that will teach us about ourselves no matter our impurities

To Hell with the beings that tell me when I am ready to birth Change
Beauty shall tumble from me with Pride following too
Poise and Good Nature writhing in my body
Never will I be a mother of Contamination
Never will I produce Arrogance and Disaster
My children
Our children  
My joy
Our joy
All holding the key to the world

I've lived an entire life
within 18 years
set me adrift from this pain

and time will change us, my love
we will be strangers
I don't fear time as I should

black  soap
   Jeff        Buckley
rose  hips
                &
   Art      Monthly

my raw emotions risen
my love, you are salt
you can't help but burn my wounds

a long series of haikus
about suffering
would not be beneficial

a blank whisper in the dark
smooth finger tips
no face to recall
that's where you are now
a place where I can barely remember your touch
a place where your face no longer exists
your image fell into an abyss with everything I suppress
your love shattered long ago
that's where you are
my heart was never yours to have
my body was never yours to touch
our kisses simply stolen but the thought of being thieves aroused us
but that was so long ago
I've forgotten your taste
your scent
but I have not forgotten you

the storm has just broken
leaving my clothes drenched in your  
words
the material molding to my skin
it's cold
I can feel it in my tendons and muscles
I am walking mechanically attempting to warm the new set permafrost that has weakened my joints
sadly you were as pristine as the crystal waters of my favorite beach
you were the sea and the horizon
your voice bold crashing waves
your heart the soft foam that caressed each grain of sand
but oh how quickly did the waters warm and churn
this time I wasn't sheltered in the eye of the storm
but thrown into the unforgiving brine
the stinging in my eyes
the rawness in my throat wasn't enough for you
you wanted me to drown in your afflictions and now I'm frozen
stuck in the chilling aftermath
frozen in shock by the coldness of your heart...no longer inviting
no longer warming to my soul

what is it good for?
where does it come from?
where does it go?
Love...a contagion that I'd rather not have sewn into my heart
it's an addiction
it's a carcinogen
I can feel the ****** opening my eyes
Love...pop the stitches
cut out the patch that has nestled in my sleeve
don't leave it be
expel this horrid feeling from my body
I don't want to be sick
I don't want to die with love inside of me
Love...a silent enigma working behind the curtain of a man
with cappuccino skin and gravity defying curls
vile is this feeling
bile starts to rise again and again
I don't
I can't
I won't
I shouldn't
but I will Love
and I will stumble in and be thrown out of Love
Love...let me rest
let me sleep
let me not dream of him
stuff the nightmares back in
I don't
I can't
I won't
not again

I trust a stranger with my body more than I trust myself
sometimes the scars tell the tale before I do
I seem to add on to my scrapbook of     suppressed depression
it's a villainy I choose to repeat
the damsel and Malificent wrapped in tinsel and a bow
I struggle to live
I find it hard to breath
wheezing every hour with a crutch under both arms
I wish to believe I am greater than this
greater than the x formation on my left breast
greater than the ghosts of lacerations on my pale thighs
translucent pupils resting in my eyes
why do I continue to lie? I haven't found myself. I haven't changed.
I have not.
Have I?