I feel like you fill me up

With nothing but empty promises
And I am starting to get rather full.

The metal in this brass knuckle heart
punches my chest from the inside out

The valves, a semiconductor for the static
electricity of your touch

Who ever thought a defibrillator could be so soft?

And in the challenge of this love
I wonder what kind of mettle you're thinking
of now

And I think patience is found
on a molecular level inside the iron
in your blood

And love then, a stone ground down
from your ashes

I mean, pressure and heat are
what diamonds are made from

Tell me again of the struggles you shone through

And through that logic, we are precious stones
but so much softer than that

I want to hold you like the focused light
from a jeweler trying to make a sale
but so much more earnest than that

And what of the contradiction
between hardness
and softness

Because there is you

How can you be so hard
and so full of life?

How can you be so beautiful?

The sky is gray. Everything is gray really. The ground is grey brown. The the trees are gray green, and the sky is gray blue. A lonely man jogs beneath me in the cold. Most everything is still save for the gentle swaying of trees in the edge of my panoramic window view. There stand in the middle of the lot two trees that have traded their resemblance to stoic poets for the whims of the winds. They make me wonder about my brother. I remember how he used to mow the lawn on sunny days, rhythmically flexing his jaw as it rang with the vibrations from the machine at his fingertips. I remember the smell of fresh cut grass. I wonder if he was as trapped in his head as those other autistics who prove to be quite sentient. I imagine holding a conversation with a brother who is more intelligent than i ever imagined. I wonder how he's doing? I havent heard much about him since he tried to **** mom. Ticking time bomb. Set free to nurses in a hospice center. Released into the hands of a familial tyrant bent on pimping my brother for pills and potential children. Fake flower petals nestled in the window attempt quite faintly to soak up the silver sunlight. The sun is lazy today. It hasnt taken the time to run around the sky and warm itself up. It's laying asleep in a bed of clouds and contrary to what people say about them, i don't see a single silver lining. Just blurred edges. But somehow they manage to still be beautiful. They are a tired sort of beautiful. Cold stones lie in a shallow grave atop the rooftop awning extending from the outer edge of the building. They are splotched with tar and mold. Rainwater takes it's toll. The trees are tipping again. sideways and sideways back again. They seem to be fond of that tick tock triage. Much like mine. But i am less fond. Mind goes back to autistic rocking again. Sometimes i feel like my heart does what special needs people do on the outside. If my heart had a mind it would no it were in a cage consisting of cracked ribs and the dreams of a miser. If it had fists, depending on what day it is, let's say a dreary tuesday, like this, it would likely lay down on its wall hung mattress and resign to twiddling with it's thumbs. If my heart had a tin cup it would rattle it against my ribs. I would feel it in my spine and try to remember why i was built this way. But my heart doesnt have a cup, so it's thirsty, and restless. Without instrument. on days like this i would rather stare straight into the face of a room more brusque, floor covered in dust and hinges tinged with rust than to pretend that i am blemish free. on days like this i would prefer mongering war with my self and wallow in a pile of my own pelts, flayed from me by my own sharp words. The truth hurts. But tomorrow. . .tomorrow. . . who knows, i might hang some curtains.

forgiveness is saving
after days turned years turned months
turn into time thats turned to dust
cleave we shall, and cleave  we didst
and in a kiss, we both find rest

if i could live inside this kiss
i wouldnt mind being a tangled mess
like tracing hands tangle in tresses
tingles  tickle through my lips
edges trailed  with tastes i cant forget

it wouldnt matter if i were more or less
because  kisses of both leave traces tasted
smiles and souls are doubly  mated
truest hunger with truest touch is sated
mind encircles mind in bliss
and hands  seek  places they fit best
finding curves and cravings,
slipping between fingers,
and lingering tender. . .

This love. . . I remember


If we could live inside a kiss,
well love we'd know and live in trust
for much of both are inside this
and moments lost are gained with haste
come rushing back to brains unleashed
from hidden places in the flesh
this beauty rises quick and feasts
let us not in weakness birth a beast
rather shake our fists at foolish lusts
and love, and live, within this kiss

in old love burst anew and threshed

a seed sprouts sudden in my chest
what in a year became a ghost
in a moment crashed
from corners to crest
i remember this thirst

in passion pulled from autumns past
we spring alive in fall at last

People's lives are like far away places
and all we can see are their faces
and faint traces and flashes
of their soul when it seeps through the cracks
because it crashes at it's outmost edges.

It's as though we nearly think
that their soul is what they do, but no
and neither is it who they claim to be, or show,
it is where they have been, and where they shall go.

We gasp for air,  we grasp it there
that others must breathe too.
Somehow storms still shock us with their might,
somehow even when i dont want to, breathing feels right
Somehow i know that i was breathed to life

somehow sparks that set afire,
though they consumed all i was,
became small sprouts of life to spire,
from the hardest dirt i'd ever seen,
when i was the worst man I had ever been
they stalked my essence in the ashes,
saw through all of the smudges, scratches,
held me up to light and saw,
an image etched, demanding awe,
there it was, but with blurred edges,
the image of My god implanted,
seed within my soul to bear,
the harshest winds, the hottest air.


So, as above, so below
even stars search for somewhere to go
In me, i see my friend,
In my friends I see my end,
in my end i see beginning, so long as the earth is spinning,
and when finally it stops,
when we've all forgotten clocks,
then in heaven as on earth,
shall we know that all has worth,
and remember then shall we,
all the roots, of life, the tree.