When you're missing something
(like a piece),
the only way to go,
is forward,
and one day soon,
you will roll over
what you
were
missing.

My words,
so full of love and concern
for you

have never felt
so
empty.

The edges were brittle,
the chip's corners itched
down like a metal prong into a filling,
nerve.

It squealed binary hemorrhages,
subtle as a battle axe,
my pleasure,
please
put it past me,
in the present
where I can now hum
electric.

Oh amber, foam-ed memories,
cast about my brain.
The evening tide pulls me away,
sooner than later, I'm afraid.

He was a
robot
who dreamt
it was a real boy.

Over the ridges of kettle corn chips
as some sort of enduring
piece mail attempt at balance.

It's never possible.
You are unlovable.

And if fault may lay,
it lay in me.
When I die,
early of my years,
I've gladly gone,
and am listening to music
with Noni
and Tim.

Powder-white and goose-bumps
in the rain.

You slide down my throat like a...

My numbing mouth,
the flashing lights.
I can't control
my sleep tonight.

did you ever fall
into the deep end?
he looked as though to fall
but in the end, he dove.

I'm sorry for the toll
my mental health took
on your sweet soul.

The nights of worry
watching me disintegrate
in a grey-shaded room
where you must have felt...

...so alone.

And if I could break
this time-line error
I would save the baby girl
that was being suffocated.

Take her hand
(Fight)
Tell her it's alright
(Fight)
Cradle her precious face
(Fight)
And never look away from her doe-eyes
(Fight)

I'm so sorry
little one.

Chew my scabs,
peel them back
(my paper mache skin).

Let the oil
of my life
flow free,
drink me up.

The sky unrolls like parchment
and angels lose their footing
as all the devils of the world
fly free, screaming.

He was so far down, looking up the light was nothing.

"How dramatic of me," he thought "they can't wait, can they?"

Maybe if he just broke the rules a bit farther he could be
jonesing for that hit of pure white
Beachy Head again,
and everything would be gone.

The lumination was just that: fake.
He was just that: break.

"The only way out, is through," said Frost.
"If you're going through Hell, keep going, " said Winston.

"Well I'm not in Hell, Winston, and I can't move through it, Robert."

And so he scraped the ***** root-veined wall with his cheek,
rolled eyeballs down,
and started moving his toes into the earth below.

So long ago, useless digging down.
Will I find you here?
How much more could there be?
Here, I have to pull myself apart:
the only way I can come together.

If there is no kingdom
you still are my Queen.

If there is no world
you still are my Ground.

If there is no universe
you still are my Sun.

If there is no life
you still are my Breath.

The flower bloomed
in fertile dirt
then pulled her roots up,
spat on the soil she grew from,
petals turning vanta black,
and left.

I don't know
if the blankets are enough
spindled about my head as they do,
suffocating the desire right,
left,
out the skylight
and into the blood
that sleeps above me.

I'll be

dreaming...

Salt...Sand...

Your brown skin
in the Sun.

I'm leaping in waves,
rolling like dice.
Give me the victory,
she reads just a slice.

I've collected Fathers like trading cards.
My first is the very common, "Abandonment Dad."
I've also got the "Distant Stranger and Sometimes Estranged Dad."
Then, I've got doubles of "Dead Dad."
If you have the rare "Decent Dad,"
I'd gladly trade a double.

You're bubbling up, aren't you?
Like the flesh,
I am scattering you to the wind.

I am not
stone building
mortared wall
mountain range
concrete foundation
giant rock boulder

I am
a cool breeze
rain on a sunny day
music in the trees
the beating of your heart
rich soil foundation
with deep roots of
hope
faith
love.

I'm building a room
for a little princess girl
White curtains with fringes in pink
Bedding all in pink, save white ruffles
on the edge of the blanket, and pillows.
A dresser with vanity,
soft wood, painted pink,
with darker pink (almost indigo?)
handles.
The walls, pink.
The door, pink.
Everything pink.

But the piece de resistance?
The white framed windows,
filled with the most beautiful
crystalline
pink
glass.

Because of this, every bit of light
entering the room
swirls in a kaleidoscope of sunlight
shaded pink.

And in the bed
my baby girl
pink P.J.s
asleep
safe
content.

Pretty potent,
Portent of Doom,
lift up your eyes -
blind by the Moon.

My love
pure
like new.

If ever
questioned,
know
it's true.

My eyes
dilate
when I look
at
you.

Wrinkle pastel ribbons
into your mouth
right down your throat
into the pink folds of flesh,
down deep.

How can we philosophize,
when we are no better?

The moments after death
may carry the
Images
Sounds
Feelings
Memories
In an extended,
Lifetime-long,
dream-state.

You move me
like music.

Your voice
sings to me.

Your skin
is a symphony.

Your smile?
An endless coda.

Your wet,
my hard.

A string of intertwining melodies
bound as one,
no interval.

An ostinato
that never leaves
the eternity of
your Springtime breeze.

Quiet...
   .. .
      . . .
         . . . there are feathers here.

The blue you use to wear me clean,
knows nothing of the day-stains
I wear.

They do not care.

I am purified by your blue,
deep, a shade beyond the glow of nostalgia.

Come to me again, in this copper fever dream,
rest your temple before me,
that I may make an offering unto you,
oh Queen.

I could only count so high.
That was my regret.
It's a secret I'll always tell.
So accept me, my sweet meats and myrhh,
toma mis lágrimas, y arreglame.

When you are here,
you light up my world.
And so,
when you're gone,
I keep all the lights on.

The bedroom light on
(I imagine you in there reading)
The bathroom light on
(I imagine you in there grooming)
The living room light on
(I imagine you doing homework)

And still,
my world,
is dim.

My sweet, sweet girl
spinning out away
kaleidoscope of construction paper-life
that turned me back
from the grey
and gave
me life.

I can hardly remember your voice
I can hardly remember your face
I can hardly remember your smell
I can hardly remember your touch

I look forward to joining you.

Purple feathers guard
the weeping willow'd face.
When time cannot near to touch,
Love somehow always finds a place.

Dissolution
Unavoidable
Pick up the pieces.
Do they even exist?

These cells are full
bloated
swollen
the point of splitting,
the membranes taut
rigid with
tension.

Touch me,
ever so gently.

I'll come apart,
a fine mist.

Do you ever get so low that so low becomes slow?
And I never dramatically quoted "that I was on a sinking
ship."
or that this heart is relinquished to obscure riddles
cement limbs
everything pale yellow-hued
cracking knuckles
limbic askew

Just a simple twist of words
to tighten maybe pull the cord
as brittle as the shells may be,
there's the watchful eyes of Miss Luci.

He was cursing again.
The brittle drops of saline etched
their ways down his face,
carving evaporation trails.

He just couldn't fight
the feeling
anymore,
like that stupid ******* song.

Lashing out, he destroyed it all.

Smiling, he died.

And baby,
you are my perfect world.

Yes come,
let's surround ourselves
with each other.

And like that,
the switch
in my head
in my heart
is, somehow, impossibly,
flipped to "off"

His eyes became wells
overflowing
buckets of regret
drawn from the emptiness
that crawls up his walls.

The colors run
passionate
cotton candy
water colors.

...heartbreak can mend
like shadows missing light
her forever fountain,
life-giving,
death-chasing.

And my bones are renewed.

To refreshing winds
where new things grow
and green
permeates
the dead.

Do mother birds mourn
when baby birds leave the nest?
Well I'll bet the pain of two at once
is something difficult to express.

Because everyday I fall
a little bit
behind.

Coming down the carpet
between Iowa, drawing toes.
You still feel it...
the taste of chlorine (I think so)
5 AM,
              6 AM,
                          Midnight.

She's
up
on
me.

She has descended
her wings bursting forth
like molten metal.

I can't.

I tell her,
"This is the end
of everything,
and if I enter,
I will not survive."

I could watch it
I could see
If that could ever
be enough for me.

Yesterday felt like tomorrow
Tomorrow feels like yesterday
And my eyes don't
And my heart isn't
And my mind won't
And I'm not sure if all these sparkling tear drops
keep falling from the thought of it
or if the weight is just to great.
It was all figured out yesterday, but
yesterday felt like tomorrow
tomorrow feels like yesterday
and my eyes don't
and my heart isn't
and my mind can't.

There's a Greyhound destination
stolen from the eerie
little pieces of falsetto voice carrying me
through the end of times like
Revelation could make you wet,
I'll make you ***,
split between what should be
and
what was done.

Oh to hang (calm down)
from the neck (i said relax)
of you (see?)
but not like a necklace (how cliche')
but an albatross (as i do).