it drips down,
off the ceiling,
over the candelabrum
and right into my own lap.

i'm sitting catty corner to an old lady that once told me i'd never find love.
now, she is spitting lines like,
"you found it and you let it go."
and "you'll never be so lucky again."

you think i'm not aware?
or that i cannot remember
the spit shake,
the transfer of blood?

i've drained myself emotionally,
almost done so physically.
i'm stammering,
liquifying my insides.
simply put,
i'm laying on my floor
intoxicated
as i am told that the way i handle love,
is no way to handle at all.

all the while,
i'm wish you would come over and cover my ears.
dreaming
you up
laying atop of me while i bury my face into the pillow,
running your hands through my hair and
speaking directly to my brain,
"if you feel it a crash landing, land softly."

i'm picking up my clothing
from the floor and hastily
packing them into a small bag.
i'm taking off,
without notice to the ones
who will miss me most.

my mind is no longer able
to give time that i do not have
to the ones who would take that time
and cash it in,
only to reject the profit,
and spend pointless nights
with another soul.

i refuse to spread my self out again,
at least for now.
in hopes that someday,
my love will find it's way back to me.

blissfully,
i rest my head.
for the last few nights i have here,
i will keep you
away from my thoughts,
and most importantly my person.

--
i never thought you to be so noxious.

let yourself be the pride in your eyes
wear yourself like a cloth .
remember that [you] are not defined
by visuals or metaphysics .

explain it? as precise as describing emotions can go? alright, i’ll try. it won’t make sense that way, and i think that
 that makes it almost as perfect as i could let out.

—

it was sort of 

like a mint leaf

stuck to the roof of my mouth.

with me,

unknown forces

kept my tongue

pressed and moving

ever so roughly
,
against and harder-

until i could feel the blood.

along with

a soothing burn,

relative to the kinds of pleasure 
brought on by

near-boiling water poured

directly 
over your ankles.

the sadistic kind of love you treat yourself to.

—

we kiss

with the beauty of a full bloom under our eyelids.

feeling spring brought upon our skins
as we weave our lights in with the sun during so many of our hours under stick homes not properly equipped with shade.

now that i think of it, we were unbelievably close to the desolation we craved.

—

i’ve lost myself-

or at least in dreams.
though, when awake

i know exactly where i place myself.

her legs went cold
in a flash
as did i
with my hands.
i couldn’t keep her,
my palms were sweaty and i
dreamt of letting her go.

a daymare so subtle and significant..
drops of blood over my eyelashes
coagulating and soothing ontop
only to seep into my irises
when i opened my eyes again.
through the red,
i still saw her.

the rattling of the train
on the tracks
that runs right by us,
shakes the core
of the six strings
that once held me together.

i feel complete,
laying next to you.
and maybe i,
well maybe i’m wrong.
but this feels right.

the creation we
we
bring the world.
the composition
of notes
and love
and exchanging breaths,
the beautiful rhythm
that we share
cannot be fabricated again.

there.
i feel safe.

hearing you laugh,
(on my behalf)
wether i like it or not,
feels good.

like sinking  my teeth
into your bare neck.
like pushing into you,
with pure lust…

i feel safe.

feeling you,
here,
even if i’m not knowing
enough for
my own comfort..

i feel safe.

it was the first time i fell in love with the spring time,
when the bradford pears had bloomed after a hard freeze.
coincidentally, the blossoming of my favorite romance.

my body is ready for the summer now
and
my love is dissipating.

i tried calling the number you left;
it rang two and a half times.
the line must've known what i wanted,
or you must've spoke too soon.
either way, i did not get through to you.

do you still wear those fabrics?
more specifically,
the one that made my fingertips smile,
or the one that held onto smells?
either way, i still think of them.

i still cannot take a shower
without wishing you were there too.

i took pictures of you at twilight.
three different cameras,
with one exposure left.
i felt secure,
with no battery life left for flash,
i could remember you
through half open eyelids.
i found myself in silent weeps,
after each advancement of the roll.
i knew that those pictures
would never develop.
all along, i knew
i was only capable of remembering you in the sunlight.

the air she shares with me is dense
unlike the before times
when everything was my own, uncompressed.
i only sort of miss it.
laying awake for all the hours of the day,
in bed
curled underneath burnt orange
watching the light fade in and out
as the clouds swam (as they usually do.)
it hits you out of nowhere
like this morning..
awake through the dawn,
i knew i was in love with you.

can you see the piles,
the broken pens
and the drops of kool-aid coloured blood
all over my bed,
and my floors?

not only in the bedroom,
i'm trailing it all over towns i visit.

i retraced my steps today
for the first time in a long time,
and i found an old draft.
someone else had picked it up,
and drew in shapes
in the places i left blank.

i'll never know when i've got it.
these words can't compete
with the feelings i store up.
if only i wasn't so vague,
i think i could be understood.

they were already straight,
i just never noticed my posture before.

kept crawling along like
i knew the words i had been saying
had truth behind the meanings

soft swept by roads
when my feet slide
stripping
ink meant for
politics and money

i savor the taste
of meat i cooked
pressed between
light and birds
and the music of morning
the vacant smell of cooked breakfast
the vacant feeling of love in general

meanwhile, my hands bright
with the prettiest blue veins.

i keep thinking of you,
eyes shut,
still before the wake.
free from the shapes i was
about to reate
with my mouth,

and with my hands.

the absence of my breathe,
bouncing left, right as i keep
my word
something i could never engineer.

—

i started placing new woods,
right at the boundaries
of my favorite memories.
exploring with my eyes wide,
and observing new friends
leaping
from flower to flower
to moss to and to puddle.

i’m trying dreaming
because reality
will not hit yet.

i can't stop picking at the skin under my fingernails
everytime i look at the first picture i ever saw of you

the world switched on me
i have a bran new start.
my slate was cleaned
(only after entering the void)

i was scared and alone,
sure that i would never come back.
sure that i would live 3 lives simultaneously.
tri colored in every which way,
i was stuck in formation
most similar and related to
the fibonacci sequence.

and now that i have overcome this,
and moved through every door.
i still have the keys,
and i know which ones it will take
to open the correct doors to get to you.

i have no fear.

i haven't felt the strength radiate from her bones,
nor have i seen her eyes through mine.
regardless, i'll pick up and shine every penny
if'n it'll take me to her.


sitting crossleg at a bridge unfinished,
ready to know what's on the other side.
 eager enough that i'm almost willing to trudge through whatever muck they're trying to save me from.

i can see- over the wires and wet cement, the rubble and the river- her shadow playing with those from trees and bees and other beings. i hear her laughter on the south east side of the town she's living, and i feel it radiate within me, fuelling embers and coaxing them to grow into unmanageable flames.

i don't want to love another, dear. this is my last basket, and the rest of my eggs.

t dawned on me the morning after she shook me down to my marrow. she was going to break my skin (with consent) and drill holes into my bones and get what she came for.

nothing could turn me on more.

she never stops craving a certain taste, and lately i seem to be lacking flavor-of-the-month.

rearrange.

should i ask?

with your eyes.. could you ever just see me?

it feels like,
before you
composition was just theory.

i cry everytime i’m thinking of you. i let go of something that i am not sure i will ever get back. so now, i am (naturally) hitting the bottle (through and through) & i have no desire to stop. your habits and smile, your skin & the way it glistens. take me to a field and confess to me, the worst & the best. spark my interests & leave me clueless. i’m desperate and soft, if that’s what you’re still into. i cry out your name at least every other day. is that what you wished to hear? i want to rid myself of you. i want my *** drive back. i want to love someone other than you.

you don't miss me.
i'm trying to not you.
though, the melodies and waves
still hang off of my ears
and occasionally, i hear you.
through other forms,
you are always there;
hiding in the folds of my sheets,
barely holding onto the rim of my glasses,
amidst the dirt under my nails.
you find me in other boys,
in the ways their bodies move in ways mine can't.
surely,
just as you think of them with me,
you think of me with them?

i can only hope that at least sometimes you think of me.