There rings a woman in bronze. 
Form frozen in hesitant beauty. 
For all to taint. 

She holds herself. 
Ruins drift closer. 

Behind her a grassy road. 
Lush for tortured soles. 

Full of disuse. 

Me here on American asphalt. 
Sparkling. 
Dazzling visitors. 

Stay for our comfort. 

Me here. 

With seasoned whispers. 

Time creeps and rushes past. 


She watches. 
I wait. 

Collect tin cups. 
Stain my fingers with faded ink.

And there is no one else. 

 
And whom I've returned to places razors in my throat.  

And I chew and swallow. 
In silence. 

My hands glides below and I return to a damp Hell. 

And it is not you. 
Will it ever?

Will my fingers obey? 
And will I pull myself from those watchless places? 


Yet. 


They visit. 

And my heart rings. 

No tone. 

Yet. 

A fully his reminds me. 

Not to live much longer. 

To dig graves and never enter. 

And baby please tell me. 

Where you are. 

Who you are. 

The health exits my eyes. 

In return a call is placed. 

And missed. 

My eyes. 

Everything you've pulled from others days. 

And why may it not be mine own?

And then told this is why life consists of. 

The beauty is there and also here,
pouring to the ground in a fit of grace. 

Then exists an image to focus,
strangle and bury. 

Wind and leather under salt licked wood. 

The shivers and the ringlets, coarse
reciting numbers. 

A trident to inspect nerve damage. 

Twenty second synapse misplaced, 
the fire dies and a dark room
overflows, a place becomes home
and the lights begin to pale. 

In all these things there exists
a thorn, found ******
torn from its warm host. 

A level of love severed.

It is so lonely here.

This porcelain face brings light to my heart. 

The hands clutch a team of paper. 

Thick and free of binds. 

A finger. 
A second and a third. 

I may only laugh while my teeth crumble. 

It is your secret though. 

Something to hold. 

Tangible, tactile. 

Like blood let knuckles over rustling steel. 

I was told to be softer. 

Yet you seem filled. 

No more empty nights finding happiness. 

It is gone.

And that seems best for all.

Me.
And my teeth.
Dreams of simple love.

Live on roads.
Exist at home.
In your throat.

Your once happy ending.
A threat sears.
Blue.
Blue and true.

My teeth and your home.
And we hold.
Stimulate.
An ounce removed.

Sweat and move.
Towards others.
Above ourselves.

And my eyes remove.
Over and over.
Into grey pain.
Tear.

He is driven exotic. 

I am standing in the concrete's heated air. 

My wait passes past my eyes. 

In search of her with rusted pipes. 

The engine is smoking and she too is smoking. 

His exhaust smells of wolf fed sheep. 

We the sheep fed wolves. 

We are staring into our fading mists thick with violence so fragile.

Wake in dirt from bone and copper. 
Collect facts from years ago. 
Remember openings and close those beginning. 
Breathe to fill the day. 
Counting hairs alone. 
 
Float and feel my blood dance else away. 
 
She asks for the gaze as my eyes give focus inward. 

Wrapped in showmanship and loneliness. 

These rings bond and the form begins tumbling. 

Create lift and heal all waters swollen.

And here. 
Among wights. 
Missing all tickets unsold. 
Calling all who lived and felt. 

It is colder. 
And the wounds are raising. 
And again with revenue as to portray. 
"It is gone." She says. 
And I dream. 

Of that razor to steal my heart. 
And who steals my blood daily. 

Though not as to compost. 
Poisoning flowers. 
Oxidizing. 
And fermenting her soil. 

Soon again. 
I will drink. 
My ears warm. 
The morn brings leashed air. 
A chuckle at present. 

Of the last. 
Of past words misunderstood. 

Once of four. 
And once of five. 
And yeah, we speak in high tones. 
In vague terms. 

Of times arrived. 
Departing flights forgotten. 

Many moments undersold. 

Still I taste. 
A forced kiss. 

Too loved to unleash. 
And so I wonder who said, "Who?"

Oh bother. 

Speech of idiots. 
Words ******. 

I deny all salves. 
All soothing. 
All encompassing. 
Sweet chestnut colored love. 

Curves to hold and suffer subsurface. 
Sans scars. 

Food tomorrow. 
After today, food tomorrow. 

I recall her taste. 

As recalled, I remember. 

The violence. 
And pride.
After the meal. 
The tears and the urination. 

After theft. 

I swam. 
With those who denied. 

And those who gave. 
Who took?

She sat. 
And I swam. 

And they spoke. 
The water. 

I emerge on new skin. 

Skin of those before. 
Of dreams wondered. 
Dreams failed. 

I pursued and entered. 

A feast. 

A drink. 

Soft pelts.

A bed and works of excuse. 

Drowned in water. 

Drowned in love. 

My sweet ancient temple. 
The skies of false truth. 

And the ******* of an angel. 

The miss of one married. 
Scarred. 

Loud speeches. 

Parades across the globe. 

And hopes of love. 

Goodnight sweet muse.

We bear her weight now. 
Though she is come to a place of love and true peace. 

And for love we bury. 
We burn and place weight upon all's heart. 

In infancy, the heat is felt. 
And a cold stare given unto a star above. 

A star unknown. 
To the pulp it's place is glowing. 

We pray and ask for love to return. 
We fight the war. 

And we rest. 
At night we weep and sharpen steel. 

To rise in dawn. 
In new shades, with new holds. 

From home we march into cities. 
Those to be unknown and forgotten. 

We leave the children's laughter. 
Place blood in hands and spill dirt on bone. 

To those with graves, we dig.  
We curse and find the roots. 

We struggle to breathe. 
The Earth becomes heavy, growing more with our breath. 

She was to be loved. 
And she was to live. 

For the lie, we suffer. 
Having never known her voice. 

Having never seen her gaze, we dream. 
And we see her with us. 

Holding us. 
Loving us all. 

We become selfish. 
And we stray from her. 

With image in hand we plot. 
And we wonder when our time to love will pass. 

It does not. 

So we fight her war. 

Hers of so long ago. 

Of a heartache so royal. 

And of a heartache so tainted. 

We place our bones in the Earth. 

We pay penance for our poverty. 

In our lacking we become numb. 

And there is none so lovely. 

There is none so pure. 

As we have read. 

As we have painted.  

We love her and died with her. 

Before birth. 

We curse the king which sold our maiden. 

We curse those which began our war. 

We pray for peace. 

For her and for you. 

We loved you.