eight legs ran around on your carpet
I heard the squeal through the wires
I imagine that you had stomped it
by the loud thump and absent of volume
you don't so much say what you think
but say what you are and in a blink
of a cataract eye I see
you are the painting that life
has created for me
to gaze with wild wonder
and the colors that have been spread apart
come together beautifully
covering my painted over heart

a faintly faded paranoia
slips from my head and drips down my spine
I begin to feel lighter
and I have a better understanding of life
our lives are mere circles of time
blending and bouncing around
and yours seem to have connected with mine

I wonder what it is like to be alive
that slated memory has been wiped
from my pre-evolutionary cycle mind
I lust for the thought of warm blood
rushing through my veins just one more time
though I would explode from the heat
of the ever present blood red sky
doomed to live these eternal days
with blood shot eyes
and highway map shaped scars on my thighs
trying to feel any type of pain
because pain is the confirmation of life

I search the lairs high and low
for any faint sign of my wandering soul
I have climbed the smoldering trees
and I have soiled my clothes
with broken fingernails searching every hole
but where is one lost to go?

visions of everything wrong
the feeling of love lost
the face of a dead person gone
it is all here
and eternity is quite long
I sing 1985 a sad song

an angel rushing down in the blushing sky
pushing cotton clouds into my eyes
floating like god with a devilish smile
the dreams of the fiends on the bathroom tile
scatter like roaches in the flash of light
that flickers from the ceiling in my mind
with my head in my hands I sometimes cry
I have looked for myself in the reflection of time
and no one was there so it must have been a sign
a sign for my future and that spark sure shined
I realized that life can not rewind
like a child when he watches his pet dog die
now I am swimming in beautiful grains of sand
watching the sun fly golden across blooming farm land
insects jump from the ground to the palm of my hand
who could pretend to be alone with this many friends?
who could complain of the end when the blame
is on the moment when things begin?
such a fickle life us mirror machines live
we are focused on we do not see
and in that moment we cease to exist
our hearts die in the inevitable turbulence
of grasping at the fireflies of thought our minds invent

I am the branch
and you are the leaf
our souls are two ants
heading for our tree
on their way to you
by crawling on me
you are the destination
and I am the journey

ghosts live in both of our delicate hearts
in a room with padlocked doors
we have swept up thoughts of them
like dust on a hardwood floor
tossing them out
and thinking of them nevermore

a star fell in my yard that night
unannounced and unnoticed
you were staring at my eyes
I may have seemed unfocused
but I felt you the whole time
the feeling consumed both of us
and then we killed the house lights

I imagine beautifully full trees
housing families of birds who love to sing
and we will dance as their whistles ring
piercing our eardrums then laughing
at the slight sting
because at the same time our hearts skip a beat
we realize we are where we need to be
skipping stones across a steady stream
growling stomachs waiting
for the fruit this will bring
and the leaves that will give us air to breathe
I am laying in my bed staring at the ceiling
fit to be tied knowing you are asleep without me
I can only hope you are having the sweetest of dreams

moisture from her skin
left condensation on the hood of my car
in the dark part of a church parking lot
the insects sound like subtle harps
we laid down on a blanket in the graveyard
using our fingers to connect the stars like dots
into the shape of hearts

she let out a cloud of smoke
then laid back with her head in my lap
with no clothes on
her hair tickled my thigh and I laughed
I made whistling noises in high tones
using a single blade of grass
and my own two thumbs
the same hands that I use to hold her
like I would hold a lady bug

driving her home
I drove better than I ever have
with both hands on the wheel
keeping her safe was my only plan
opening her door
such a hard task for the hand
knowing there are hours in between
opening that door again

she had the longest sidewalk in this town
the touch of her lips in the door way of her house
walking back to my car
the night had a beautiful sound
I took the long way home
just to drive around
and listen to music very loud
with the window down
my hair flew out
creating shapes I have only read about

finally home
I lay my head on my pillow
and close my tired eyes
I see her in a sundress
sending flight to the seeds of a dandelion
I count them..
1....
2.....
3......
4........
5............

the rain falls like brick walls
pounding against my skin
in the same way
you would strike a block of ice
with an ice pick

I need something strange to soothe me
almost willing to host some parasites to use me

stairs
I am usually
climbing them
or I am falling down them
a means to no end
I am addicted
to picking myself up
off of the grass or pavement
over and over again
you, her, and them
my memories
are a separate world that I live in

my unidentified flying heart
re-enters the atmosphere
and breaks apart
it becomes smaller
with each return flight back
from a distant star

we think we are humans
but we are not
we are only thoughts
and thoughts can rot
decay
and break apart
then reassemble themselves
into a better thought
to take its course again
maybe it will be buried
or maybe it will take flight with the wind