i love you and that is the yes weight
and the high noon trauma.
the unborn cathedral
of tiny smart people
and the near dark
nova.
the grove of our open wound sustains
and the very love of our bleached dream
.... a godless cream
in a crimson
church.

our idols, a dim mirth. and nothing as it seems.

But -

Oh how the awfulness trumps the blue
and the black behind it
shines ! what might we, the feeble guttersnipes do ?
but save a prayer to a dead god
and march to wane fields
behind it...

love-blinded ?

what are your terms ? the Devil may ask of you and you and you ...

but the true quest is a riddlement,
a prune on the throat of a mute Sun
singing the bleak queries
of an afterbirth, after thought
has abandoned
a hazard's guess.

Tomorrow is a crumb of soft words
and a walk of the plank.
The high stench of probable cause
and the noisy stench
of a chaste complaint.
a dreary ruby
groomed in the *****
of the earth
to be the first
fool.

and the last lust.

a complete waste of light
where the darkness falls
like an anvil chanting
a hammer's
song
but tone deaf
and sparks
sadly.

I heard your voice on the radio
Each word transmitting
from your lips
You touch me more than you even know
From my neck to your fingertips

To be under your skin
is where I should have been.
From the start I knew
a little bit of everything
except you.
And to know you
is to know everything.

Sometimes I have to cry.
Not because I'm sad.
Not because I'm happy.
But because I live in a shaded grey.
Always in between and never touching the end of each extent.
And when I think of you,
I cry.
Maybe I cry because I'm not with you at the time.
Maybe I cry because I miss you.
Maybe I cry tears of relief,
Thanking this universe for giving me love like this.
Because I've been neglected.
And torn apart like paper.
Maybe I cry in fear of losing you.
Maybe I cry in fear of having you.
Maybe I cry to relieve my anxiety.
My anxiety from an unknown cause.
I never know why I cry.
Maybe I never will.
But maybe,
Sometimes I have to cry.
Just because my twisted mind enjoys the feeling of these sheer tears that are filled with so many emotions as they're strolling down my face.
These mixed, jumbled emotions I can't sort out.
Some people say that black and white is all they know,
But I never knew black and I've never known white.
But grey...
Grey has walked beside me for years
Letting me taste each extreme,
As if that ever benefitted me.
And I,
I always stay in this area of grey.
It's the only place comfortable for me -
Someone who has felt both sides of two opposite ends.
Cause if it would let me leave, it knows I'd remain here.
Not because I'm sad.
Not because I'm happy.
But because it understands
That sometimes I have to cry.
And I'll never have to give a reason,
Because I live in a foreign place of unmade up minds and mistakes.
This place I like to call grey.
Which has gave me a home to store my imperfections.