Mind shifting
Wet face feircly dripping
Puddles and puddles of wax
Spectacular mind attacks
Twisting and churning
And missing and yearning
And waiting for something,
Not sure what, you're tiring
Crumple in slowly from the weight
And finally succumb to the endless fate

My arms flung wide
Head flung back
And my eyes are closed
I'm floating in black
I'm waiting for that hand
To pull me out
Of this strange land
But I'm also fine waiting,
Here is smooth and calming
Not bad, or mad like passion is
But rather a darkness balming
The sores from the last man who tried

My grandmothers skin is pickled rainbows
Bright from life, and crumpled with use
Every painstaking line a story
Of her joys and sorrows;

The day she met my grandfather
Her first day of school
Stealing cookies from the jar
The day she had my mother,
The day her mother passed on.
Riding horses,
Colder winters,
Cheaper candy,
Family picnics in summer,
And sneaking out of the house ...

My grandmother is beautiful,
And I love every story
That her rainbow shows.

Wooden love,
Forgotten like old bones
And memories

XxXx

Lies settle uneasily on her skin
Like thick perfume choking
All who are near

XxXx

Wisps of dust
Curl into the rising air
Like invisible smoke

XxXx

Exquisite telling
Of the corpse;
Sparkling wine and cold fingers

XxXx

Do not touch
the shameless broken glass
That lie like crushed diamonds

XxXx

Two buses
Full of empty people
Pass blindly

XxXx

Rising towers of ice
A complex of cages,
And we call it beautiful

XxXx

This is the way the world ends
(World ends, world ends)
Not with a bang but a whisper

XxXx

Because we are the hollow men
And there is never rest
For a lost boy

I've run my fingers over the faces
of many men
Touching, yes, but trying so hard to feel
With my own numb heart
It is calloused from use, yes,
but no less tender
So I reach out my hands
And run my fingers over countless faces
As I try to feel again

How many tears are in my pillow
And how many in my brain,
How many in my heart
And how many in my name

Battered whispers of fake truths
Snarl through innocent ears
And bend unwilling hearts.
It's a song as sweet as poison
And bitter as glass eyes.

Silver tongues, diamond cut,
Artfully place pandering
And articulate acupuncture
Dragging your cheeks up with hooks
Until you are caught by strings
A marionette madly dancing
To another's fine sour tune

Wet ink curtains press me
Down, sinking into my bed
But delicately raises me like lacy smoke
To hover in a violet cloud;

And such is the way of fairies

The famous here
Have many followers,
But the wise gather the dreams
Of many