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Mar 2014 · 594
swingin'
bruises bronze my hips
from swing:set lip:lock leaving
weightless blister kiss
arsenalofwords.com
another soul
napping on you guarantees
you will feel more loved
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uC87AdVvSFc
Mar 2014 · 385
Untitled
lipstick bandage feeds
a hunger for affection
after acid kiss
Mar 2014 · 2.1k
hail murmurs
1:AM hail run
somnambulist suburbs coo
with ice on wind chimes
Feb 2014 · 431
a melted art
Once upon a Cold, we painted with
our Breath, drawing grand designs with Frost.
We thought the Ice would last
all season, comfort of our white Chrysalis
wrapping Crystal dreams.
We antici-
pated  each  coming  day
like a Snowflake waits
for infinite friends to follow
it’s unique descent.
We didn’t fear starry hours
or burned out sky
because even that
was Bright.
And one morning whispers with a
drip. drip.
delicate palaces rush into consciousness.
new chrysalis cries
as every brick of what we built
becomes a warmer, wetter winter tear.
collapsing towers, liquid architectures dancing
deep in ear canals, all flowing castles of the fall.
Tall empires all return to sea level.
farewell, foundations.
goodbye, stuck moments.
take care, cold friends.
hello, invisible breath.
now fleeing into pavement rivers,
moving as if only motion was alive,
sunlit course corrections,
shifting midstream to not die.
but I weep for our grand designs,
no solace in the warm survival of their parts,
impermanence courts chaos
in what’s left
of a pair
of frozen hearts.
http://arsenalofwords.com/2014/02/25/a-melted-art/
Sep 2012 · 734
Edgemoor
Night is like a song that you can’t see
so you make up scenery to fill the gaps
between fluorescent highways. and forests possible.
Figments of figs twist with twigs into
nocturnal architectures of confusing beauty.
Headlights slice into your eyes and ruin
the surprise so you return to sound
of foggy rain and smoky tears,
trying to fit between the droplets
without feeling cold or found. and failing.
World exposed as just imagination but
your faith blooms, believing
makes the secrets breathe.
Traffic rolls across eyelids like
tracks of fading bright and wet tails
across the windshield. and when
you peek again you find only rubies
staring back like mute, unblinking fireflies
and you know you’re driving blind
no matter how wide your spies are open.
Aug 2012 · 386
untitled #haiku
sound of summer night
singing into empty warm
dancing, with my sweat
Aug 2012 · 598
Ripping Current
I return where I was born, not physically
Driving a machine that didn’t yet exist
through the sleepy streets nocturnal
every intersection bursting with memories
Past overgrown trees surrounding
an elementary school I can’t see
Thrusting into radio static songs
names scenes all unfamiliar
except the change drums as
predictable as heartbeats
On the sandy road between a home
and the soundtrack of the sea
where I lingered now, and then
Walking by a mother n’ son and waves ending
that’s called sea foam, she said
waking by a memory being formed
On the shore’s blue blend
men become boys again
toes plucked from the sand
and it’s years before the tide returns them


*Inspired by the shores of Virginia Beach, VA
Jul 2012 · 988
Expired Eyes
The scars you leave on me are just tattoos that
no one else can see, they've bled ad nauseam,
invisible ink pouring from the pores of lashes
and old sores, a tale of muted agony tailed by
the ****** of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I knew.

The stars you leave me with are just dreams that
we abandoned, racing to prove they once existed
recalling how it once was like to be kissed by light
before bleeding across a generation of galaxies
to exile in your soft, cold cheeks as pale. I knew.

The jars you leave me in are just the parts you
want to be, containers of convenient, misfits for
what really happened, they leave nil to breathe:
for fusing crimson curiosities, building empires
of what if, or asking. Only me in pieces. I new.

I'd lose you.

*Partially inspired by Sophie Ellis-Bextor's
"The Walls Keep Saying Your Name"
Jul 2012 · 536
Without Tomorrow
The glass cracks before my eyes and I
admire the fractal patterns. Branching limbs
reaching for the edges, just to find them. Nails on
endless rows of fingertoes too short, too close,
too hurt. So hungry for an end
they forget to taste.

So soon we’ll suffocate.
But now will never breathe again.

Tomorrow we expire.
But now already has.

Forget the next. It’ll still come.

As long as there’s no tomorrow, we can
rise to enjoy the fall. Smile before the reasons flee.
Abandon all perspective. Escape causality.
Dance with silence before it shatters.

*(from ArsenalOfWords.com)

— The End —