You're not here,
so morning birds can't sing..
they scrape &
pierce the peace
like knife & fork
on a plate of desire.

old love like the lone porch light
on the dead end street
you've always known,
which flickers off & on
like blinking eyes.
She was always waiting...

Some smiles are merely
a motion,
skin stretching to
cover
a thought
inflicted wound.

My eyes to Slava my seamstress say,

"I'm begging you,
sew me a new skin
here
in your living room
to hold me together now
because I can't seem to anymore...

Dear Slava,
I know you know,
how the thoughts inside me
are crazed,
you've known my childhood days &
it's not me here.
Who's this dead thing in the living room?

I feel the bones inside me,
they're too loose.
You see me falling apart,
these eyes of mine the noose.
Catch me dear friend,
from myself!
I'm begging you,
change this stitch in time
for me?

The day they told me you had resigned,
I went searching for you.
My eyes sharpened to find you
like two new Ticonderoga pencils
on this timed, standardized test of life.
I, your pupil,
felt desperate to fill in the bubbles
on this journey
to fill up my heart again
with answers to questions
I knew only you could
score & tell me were right.
But you never had exams in your courses
I should've known when you left,
that was your way,
your blessing
to write my dissertation
and live my philosophy out, for you,
You had given me love,
you had always seen what I couldn't;
my potential. Who I am, truly.
And that's why, from you,
I learned everything & could feel internal peace
for I learned my purpose
& in my search for you again,
great teacher,
I realized you had never left
and the test had never existed.
I will still always wonder though
where you went.

(c) 2014

This morning
I awoke from a tangle of dreams
from wild feelings
in the jungle of my heart
The morning sun
sliced through
the slumber
like machetes
just in time
to bring me to
a clearing
to my reality.

(c) 2014

My breathing's wrong.
This pattern inside me
isn't my rhythm.
You've got all the control
& I'm programmed to rise & fall
just from a single phrase of yours
and
I wish I could even try
to get this heart to knock on rib doors
build some courage up
to
whisper truths between the
sliver membranes so I can
try & balance out the breathing
and get a grip on reality
cause I'm almost outta that conscious-land
& I don't know
this man
he keeps bringing me to hell & heaven...
then back
with just his text.

(c) 2014