I want this. Yes, I want this.
God knows how bad.
Do you? Do you want this?
I would claw out my heart
and give it to you with a smile.
Do you see that?
Do you see me?
****.
Do you even ******* see me?!
Do you see me wasting away
with the effort of loving you?
Do you see these fingernails?
Cracked.
******.
Raw.
Do you see my ******* chest?
Do you see how empty I am?

Tainted havoc ensue
from our imminent destruction.

We befoul each other's affinity
with the ruin of our past lives.

Together we spoil, destroy, and infect the air that devours us.

Coexisting is not an option
between

You,

Me,

and

Sympathy.

Let's defy gravity, baby.

Let's defy that *****
until her forceful hands shake us
back to reality.

We'll rise above this dreary world
and play leap frog among the stars.

We'll smoke one with the moon
while he
spills secrets about the Sun.

We'll get drunk off faith
and throw a prayer or two up ahead
for the Man Upstairs.

When the magic fades,
We'll hold one another as the law comes back into effect
and we slowly drift through the clouds
claiming lazily
that the moon prefers Southern Comfort.

Forgive me, for my years.
Perhaps I am just nine short of knowing the rhythm to which your heart beats and having the ability to match it.

Forgive me, for my legs.
I did not have, and still have yet to find, the strength I need to run to you.

Forgive me, for my words.
They were deceitful. I believed they could keep you close to me. But in reality, you have always been hundreds of miles away.

Forgive me, for my heart.
The poor thing loves too quickly. It did not see the big picture. For months, it's gaze was fixed solely upon your scorching glow, which was mistaken for a beacon of hope.

Forgive the night, my dear.
She thinks herself a romantic as she extinguishes your flame, believing her own stars and moon can reignite your stolen fire.

Forgive the night... For she knows not what she does.
She is unaware that her moon's light is not its own, and her stars that burn are slowly dying.

You are not perfect, darling.
Far from it, actually.
Your aura is lined with jagged edges.

I know it.
You know it.
God knows it.

But that is what makes us so extraordinary.
Your jagged edges expertly fill my empty spaces.

No one is formulated quite like you.
Never has there been.
Never will there be.

You are you, made imperfectly just for me.

I know it.
You know it.
God knows it.

Firm years cannot find her kneading heart

Oh, gently, times stood staring

Figures, handsome and graceful, moving.

Faded.

Distance is a funny thing, isn't it?
You're there.
I'm here.

I can pace,
and pace,
and I can gather miles in my soles
pacing these halls,
             these stairs,
             these empty rooms.

But my footsteps
can only burn holes
in ***** carpet.

They can not
carry me
to you.

go
ahead.
shimmy along.
i'll lace
up
my chucks
and
watch you
*******
dance
while I
walk
back into
the nothing
from
which
I
came.

the sun rose with a vengeance.
then you opened your eyes,
and put the sky to shame.

How were we to know
that in our effort
to be extraordinary,
we would make only
careless, forgotten love.

How were we to know
you would be only
a freckle
on sun-kissed skin,
a whisper in the wind
not strong enough
to tickle my neck.

If love could speak,
its sly voice would slither
up your spine,
promise tomorrow's sunrise,
and gently cut off your blood supply.

She looked into his damp, brown eyes and realized in an instant the beast she really was. At one time, his body was still a body. Now, it was just a shell. She was tearing out his insides piece by piece and displaying them to the world. Any outsider could see he was stained red.

She looked into his eyes and saw a monster glistening in her reflection. She knew what she was doing to this poor boy. She saw the harm she was causing to his sweet soul. But she enjoyed every minute of it. She was selfish, and she would not stop.

Surrounding me, dying souls.
Infested souls.
Sunken souls.
Souls that are drifting, floating.
Souls trapped by the grip of the enemy.
Innocent, handcrafted souls.

They're coming home.

I'm being suffocated by the weight of this mad, mad world.
I am weeping, adding salt and water to the flood of my children returning from the battle raging beneath my Heavenly sanctuary.

All because of a declaration.
An act of malice guiding unfit soldiers into the strangling hands of war.

Souls that never had a chance to live out the lives I set before them,
now stand before me.

The only thing I can say to their questioning eyes is this:

beauty is born from destruction. styles and rhythms and words will emerge from these malevolent years.

Lives that were stolen by signatures
and trenches
and gas
and bacteria ridden bugs
and all things not made by my gentle hands,
Will be replaced by a stronger Lost Generation,
Who will turn this world, page by page, nearer to the world I intended for my children.

How your voice sounds first thing in the morning. Larynx still dry from sleep.

Where your eyes wander as your search for elusive words continues.

How your head will nod to the car radio after a tiresome day at work.

The way your hand maneuvers a pen so delicately across a fresh piece of notebook paper. Or napkin. Envelope. Whatever is in your reach when inspiration strikes.

The path your tears will travel down your worn skin as you remember the souls that are so easily forgotten.

Perhaps the truth
turned oblivious.

And the boy
knew to whisper
persuasion
softly.

Dark shoulders
urged
a moist
smile.

Morning spent lying, gazing

turn into afternoons
snuggled in sheets
of lazy radiance.

Hands rest on skin
with languorous delight,

traveling amorously
with nowhere to be,

only knowing
where they want to go.

Baby, let's break the world.
We'll hum a symphony
and skip stones across mountains
while we smoke cigarettes rolled with desire.

We'll bottle the oceans
and sell them for $1.99 a piece
while we turn diamonds to liquid sand
that's capable of softening these innumerable miles of asphalt into fields of yellow.

Let's break the world, my love.
We'll show the universe that we are more than just tiny flecks of flesh forced to live and be bound by the rules of fragile glass.

Let's break this Godforsaken world
and leave it to rot.

It's hard to imagine
that one day
we will be nothing
more than fossils.

Our only remnant
a dent in the dirt.
The people who find us
will know nothing,
only that our bones
have survived
millions
of years.

I remember our first kiss.
How I was so embarrassed,
So reluctant,
to let my lips to find yours.

And now I chuckle
at the handprints revealed
in my car's
foggy windows.

Love me spineless.

Not spinelessly,
without will or integrity.

But love me so hard and so fiercely
there are no bones left in my body.

Love me to where my vertebrae know no home,
where my limbs tremble when you're near.

Love me senseless.

"My God,"

he whispered with his hands tangled in her hair, a hitch in his voice, and a spark in his eye.

"I want you. With all of my being, I want you. I want to trace the shadows that play on your face, and I want to thank the sun every morning for accentuating your slopes and angles in such a way that destroys my ability to breathe."

"The smell of your hair in my face at 7 am is what God must have been inhaling when he put the first angel on Earth."

Let your leg fall against my leg.
I'll rest my head on your shoulder.
No music.
Only the sound of your breath and mine
mixing in the quiet space
that runs between here
and the rest of our lives

Like you go back to those **** cigarettes,
I go back to you.
So go ahead, take a drag.

Watch me be consumed
with every inhale

and forgotten
with every

exhale

...

I'm leaving.
Taking with me
the only
light
you have ever
known.
Baby,
I'm gone.
There will be
only
darkness
when you wake.

I was a fool .
I was a fool
to have thought
I could have
wanted anything
other than this.
Anyone,
other than
you.

The clouds roll over
and over
and over
until it is only
clouds we see.

Lost.
We're lost, and
it's raining.
The road is wet
and it is soaking
our pant legs through.

Riders on the storm.
That's us.
The bass thumps,
the drums beat,
and that's us.
Riders on the storm.

I wish you were here with me.
Your arm around my shoulder,
fingertips tracing nonsense
across my skin.
My head on your chest,
knowing that the monsters
dreamt by the moving pictures
could not possibly reach us
because we have created
a fortress of oblivion
within the confines
of the blankets keeping us warm.

Keeping us together.

May your eyes never forget
the taste of me-
taken in,
devoured,
in the humid evenings
of late July.

May your lips never forget
the smell of me-
pink skin catching
every glisten of sweat
condensing under
the hot sun.

May your ears never forget
the sight of your name
escaping in a gasp
from my pink lips,
my eyes wide open
never missing a second
of your perfection.

I love you.
To all of the stars
and back.
Because to the moon
is not far enough.

I love you.
To the dawn of creation
around God
and back.
Twice.

I love you.
More than any quantitative
or qualitative measurement,
I love you.

I love you
more than you
will ever know.

Sometimes you would light a cigarette,
just to put it out.

The end would ignite
for a second or two,
then you would step on it.

You liked the idea of letting things burn
but never burn out.

Instead, you snuffed them out
before they ever had a chance
to do anything
but go up in smoke.

When the
machine
takes over
and grinds
your bones,
skin, and
organs
into
useless, insignificant,
easily forgotten
pieces of
organic matter,
that's it.

That's exactly it.  

You find yourself.

Poets/Writers/Artists! I have started a literary journal called 'Sun and Moon' and submissions are OPEN. This is a space for new and emerging writers. Send your poems, short stories, and/or visual art to sunandmoonliterary@gmail.com. Feel free to inbox for more information!

to you,
I was but a shadow
in the night.


invisible.

Walking on the
rough concrete,
I had the
sudden realization
of what I was.

I was never
fully formed.
No hand found
mine to hold,
nor could
my own
ever rest still
at my sides.

I was created only
to free fall
through
the breath of tomorrow,
from day
to sunny day-
a mirage of freedom
to my acquaintances.

We liked to watch sunrise-
backs pressed against
the damp hillside
landlocked to the
feeling of the moisture
soaking my shirt.

Our hands melted together-
and dawn's sky gave way
to the beginning of the day,
and the earth had never seemed
more alive.

There is neither here,
nor there,

Only nothing.

There is not then or now,
what was or what will be.

Only nothing
and the space between.

the cool fire
burning in those
blue eyes
is all consuming,
setting aflame
everything in which
you cast your
gaze upon.

I will kiss you anywhere and everywhere.

I will kiss you after your morning shower,
when your lips are warm and damp.

I will kiss you in a crowd,
behind your ear.

I will kiss you alone,
paying close attention to your safe, safe hands
and your short, square fingers.

I will kiss you at night,
on the small of you back
when it peeks from beneath your shirt
as you reach to turn off the bedside lamp.

I will kiss you in a storm.
Lightening and all.

I will kiss you when the raindrops become puddles,
and when the puddles become a flood.

And while the flood sweeps us away,
I will kiss you in the space
between the cresents of the waves.

In the glow of an intransigent moon,
she looked up at dull stars with a twinkling bitterness.

All she wanted was the sun.
She wanted endless yellows and reds.
Blues.
Greens.
Light to be shed upon her world.

But she was stuck under a film of grey.

And the night would not relent.

So many people wander
this earth aimlessly,

finding no peace
in the places they have been.

But in my travels,
I stumbled upon
the blue of your eyes,
the taste of your kiss,
and the warmth of your embrace.

I have wandered,
and I have found my home.

Occasionally,
I will discover
a patch of
my blanket
that smells
like you.

I let my nose
linger there,
inhaling your scent
until the aroma
fades
and the memories
wash over me

and my heart
can no longer
stay above
water.