Winter leaves a trace of frostbitten memories.
Don't speak to me of spring,
without closure.
A winter romance is not a summer fling.

When I ask her for warmth
she hands me a dying man
who won't make it through the season.

I dream
dark and quietly

They bellow,
the twisted sighs of laborers
adrift a midsummer's lullaby,

because their eyes are a collage of uncertainty
I want to scatter them,
find them washed up on a desolate shore,
uncork them
decode the message inside,

The monarch's sea ebbs
black and thick and drips
on a satellite,
a power struggle between stillness
and the busy orbit of our minds.

All the sin the king commits
is revealed in the innocent, sapphire tears
of his children,
dampening his shadow.

Youthful hearts aflame, chasing illusions,

They won't challenge the stories,
not anymore.

We dream this night,
a never-ending cycle.

I feel us here
under the twisting tree of life,
any soul seeking nourishment from leaky roots:

We are your child's laughter.
We are your fear of death.
Let us dance upon your lilies,
let the flies handle the rest.

We are the last song of Zion.
All we ask of you
is a longer road
to carry the weight on.

What are we to do with
gray forms
or a silver spoon?
We are starving for color.
Open the window,
let the light in.

We are the lost heart of Babylon.
All we ask of you
is a better note to die on.

We were free once,
we were free.
We were blue skies.
We were sparrows singing to the trees.

We are the namesake of Eden.
All we ask of you is redemption.

We were free once.
We were free.
We we're blue skies
We were sparrows in the trees
We were alive once
We had dreams
We were free once
We were free

Now, are you filled with regret?
Was it the only way.
Do the memories fill your head
Do they waltz with the pictures on the wall
Where she wants, patiently
To **** you all.

I've never seen eyes quite like yours.
A 17th century folklore might label you a changeling,
try to **** your colic with honey,
and, I'm sorry to say,
but you could've been burned at the stake
with eyes like that.

Sometimes I catch your pupils riding
on a black swan's wings
stealing secrets from the breeze.
The sky around them melts my skin like a scorching Arizona sky;
Lake Placid Blue
That's when I know you're staring out the window
wishing for the birds to return
way too late in the morning.

Sometimes those eyes refract an eerie, emerald green,
like they're mimicking a sci-fi movie:
The Man who Fell to Earth
I know you are too far out in space for me to reach you then,
so I send out some light-house giggles and I hope you'll find your way back to Earth soon.

When those windows to your soul are guarded with golden, earthy chambers,
you rattle the bars with your native tongue,
cooing and commanding I recite the password again and again.
and I know exactly what to say,
when your eyes glimmer like the California gold-rush:
Let me in.

Sometimes I can hold them in one hand
while they ring like Baoding *****
entrancing me into Nirvana.
Other times they burn me like fire,
and I'm caught off guard, not enlightened enough, yet, to walk over hot coals.

You're a changeling, indeed.

But when your eyelids are closed,
and all those secrets disappear back into your soul,
you wreak of consistency,
solid as an oak tree.
Your stories seep back into your roots.
The roots that burrow deep into my soil,
familiar and warm.

I hide your secrets there.
I hold you for as long as you let me,
and I'm not afraid when you flutter back into your folklore
because I hold the key to your resting place,
the seeds of your fruitful vision.

Elephant
Wise, good-humored
Loving, playing, existing
Teach me your ways
Larger-than-life

A toast,
to us, my friend,
dancing recklessly on the city streets.
Does the moon cause a similar wave pattern
in Patron
as it does in the majestic ocean body?
Giddy and drunk with liberating damnation,
conquering gravity and solidity;
magnetically driven.

We're here,
two souls- one rhythm.
Let's manifest the stars' burning vigor.
Can you feel the moon through the commotion
of lights?

What joy!
Like a fresh babe's very first, bubbly, giggle.
As true as a mother's love,
our bodies will disappear
in laughter.

One sky,
one love to share,
two bodies soaking wet with wonder,
or was it sea water, or sweet patron?
Who cares?
We're alive in impenetrable unity and colorful independence.
The moon glares upon us, jealously,
as we raze paths,
blessings swoon.

I dream
I drench my house
in gasoline
and burn it to the ground.

I free them from captivity,
the skeletons in my closet,

I laugh hysterically
along with the thunderous racket
of the warm flames.

I wake up with heartburn.

and I discover what a better purpose I'd serve
if I burned off my flesh
for your suffering.

How high I would get from those fumes.