the dark is like
a cup of
youth
a nostalgic omnipresence
that never fades
always the same at the end of every day
but no walls can keep me protected
from the thoughts that the dark brings like
unwanted guests to
a pity party
we belong to the dark
born in the dark
erased in the dark
never felt so alive entrenched in black
yet so dead
because closing my eyes does nothing
to the sheet that lays over my eyes
where there is no light to hide
from
the waking world

life is an endless stream
of blue jean clad
millions
following the
wave
of others adorned the same
iconic
way
the american idolatry
of blue jeans
of classic
of sameness
of belonging
the blue denim ocean
crashes
on the edges of
the cliff
of what they don't understand

I want to be loved for one night,
then I shall be content in isolation,
comfortable in the lack of weight
on the other side of the bed.

One night, to be kissed brand-new
by foreign lips; a familiar fear
as she leaves her dress on the chair,
and our inhibitions on the floor.

Absence of physical touch, heard words;
no tangible proof I exist, or should exist
at all. I miss the fatigue. Brief sensation,
some energy - our collective heat;

the way we sweat beneath the sheets.
The way you need to call out to me.
I have not heard my name in weeks.

I want to be loved for one night,
then I can return to pollute these pages
with something beyond conjecture,
something worth holding on to.

logical
Responsible
practical
make believe
that this is me
that these are qualities
who i am
in all honesty
the questions run
wild and free
make believe
that this is me
that that will ever be me
please
tell me who i am
because even I'm not sure anymore
is anyone
does any
single
one
know
other people
know
see
judge
what we push aside
what we pay no mind
can become who we are
in a blink of an eye
in a wayward sigh
becoming a lonely
make believe reality

one, two, three, four
those are the first number we learn when we walk out the door
one plus one ends up obscene
the second thing we learn about as teens
minus one, add three
on your boy you weren't so keen
start at zero
life's anew
since it is just me and you
divide by one
you splinter off
maybe for a time you become so lost
that one two three
don't make sense anymore
how could little numbers
keep your soul from the downpour?
well, you think, toss
the primer away
I'm not so keen on maths anyway

The warning bell sounded, and heads did spin

In a full on exorcist twist.

Hearts and lungs on overdrive.

Max gear ***** race, go!

Eyes meeting, hardly a greeting.

Run for the horizon, little darling daredevils.

-

His legs are burning, her lungs are burning.

Can’t stop, can’t stop, won’t stop.

She sees the results and snickers.

Surrounded by searchers and sirens.

The schooling facility, a funeral pyre,

a gasoline catalyst. “All the same, stupid”.

-

Endless lines of lockers filled to limit.

Echoes of “run along to class!”.

Chunks of charcoal - Chambers of change.

Left on Fairview, right on King.

Watch out for Pauly’s pit bulls barking!

-

Down the hill on University avenue - Dead End.

Train tracks up the hillside, so climb!

View of the evidence;

Matchstick Mayhem Miracle Man.

Gasoline Gal, so elegant.

Smoke cloud, smoke cloud, our little secret.

envy grows
a curious thing
no rhyme or reason
just a sting
of leaf green
to destroy the envy
the lust
the greed
you seek acceptance
you want
no, you need
to be released from the prison
of spiky green
a prison that grows and grows with each passing hour,
but could be cut down with only a flower
growing inside the carefully tended walls
a flower called ego
this bud
once uncovered
can bloom
and break the envy walls
so that for today
they won't bother you at all
but care for the flower
today tomorrow
the next
so that envy doesn't reach out again
and re-trap you in a web
of tangled mean