comfort is my enemy disguised in warm blankets and black coffee

comfort paralyzes me then tries to tell me I'm still free

comfort took me by the hand, caressed it, acted like a man

comfort is a covert leech using me each chance it can

comfort kills each opportunity long before it is presented to me

comfort is an illusion that fools me, invoking irreversible confusion

comfort is no longer comforting, instead it ignites insanity's bomb

comfort loves to win by pinning me down from my soles to my palms

I've learned things
like a flame is coldest
at its tip
right in the middle
is where you get lit
the quickest

and
someone who
admires the curves
of your feet
is certainly someone who
was worth meeting

also
when you act like you don't care
the world acts accordingly,
loses meaning,
refusing so much as a glance
at your stare

mostly
if you don't wish
to be stuck
with a name you've created
for yourself
there are means of depleting it
if you remember the lessons of
placement
appreciation and
passion

is one night
worth the four seasons?
because I've been struggling
to divide a line
through
the calls and the silence
between
the morals and the violence
and I still
have not
chosen a side yet

I crave the physical feeling
of you fleeting
but psychologically
cannot stand you leaving

little peach colored amphetamine
allows reality
to be a dream
uncertain if it prohibits meaning
or stifles raw creativity
it's hard to decipher when without it
there seems to be no purpose
no motivating factors
are present in its absence

naturalistic existence
e x t i n g u i s h e d
by addictive dependence

lacking attachment to actuality
solely pieces of speed can calm me

I can hear the flowers growing
in each moan of your breath
I can feel the breeze of your essence
while your body is pressed on me
your hair moves through my fingers
like wet sand
and the skin that I'm in
grins
like mad

I am not the type of flesh
to regret
the motion of fingertips
tracing my physical silhouette at rest
in ways even Schiele could not invent
still in knowing our actions are forward
I always hesitate to explain how I miss you

states of mind so foreign
that the home in your head will seem
as if it's been quarantined
mental shelter can no longer supply safety
there is only room to roam
the negative spaces of your brain

each characteristic taken away
from the natural tone of your lips
to the shine behind your eyes
good luck on your way out
the road you chose
is up in smoke

bored with the third dimension
growth and decay
go hand in hand lately
on a daily basis
we hardly pay attention

at what point do we bloom,
then begin our descent?
in essence I'm guessing
it makes no difference
we all reach the end eventually

keep ******* filters
popping capsules
downing poison
slipping tongues in

there will always be acts
to prohibit living
why don't we focus on what fills us?
instead of giving into
what kills us

feigning flesh
pressed up against
stripped skin

cannot mesh lips
hard
enough
cannot touch limbs
soft
enough

places I rarely visit
consist of programmers obeying restrictions
operating under false assumptions
distracted by faulty wiring

swarms gather under fluorescent lights
to contemplate organic life technologically
never satisfied with the diagnosis
for it always leaves them feeling empty

can I be blamed,
for not only wanting this digital life to be restrained,
but for also wanting it to change?

a persistent desire to aspire some revolution
to move away from
light pollution & pixel resolution
absent of
abbreviated emotion & cyber fixation
only
unplugged love & three dimensional conversation

inside of anybody who inhales
is always a spec of death
knowing with each breath
you get closer
and closer
it's unconscious suicide in retrospect

like a droplet of rain
rushes to Earth's surface
women flock
like migrating birds
heading south for the winter
and if it's only for a minute or two
they'd all arrive early
just to be wooed by you

I know I leave a dent in your pillow
and strands of hair in your bed
but what remnants of me
if any
are left in your head?
am I solely erogenous flesh
that rests beside you
until awakened for pleasure
or more?
I don't wish to burn holes in your clothes
or rip tears through your sheets
but I'd like to know,
if not at least worth meeting,
worth more than a well kept secret