Smoke is thick in the air
You can’t see to the end of the block
But I still go to work

I stand in the yellowed, dulled sunlight
Trying to to breathe too deeply
Lest the ash fill my lungs
But I still go to work

I miss my connection and walk
Through the empty streets
Passed the old neighborhood
My eyes and throat burning
But I still go to work

Six hours I stand by a window in a hot room
Wishing I could smell anything but fire
Checking over and over
Anxiously reloading the alerts
“Am I evacuated now?”
But I still finish my shift

I’m only a few dozen miles from flames
In a state that’s being razed
City by city
Town by town
We’re disappearing
Returning to ashen shells where homes once stood
But still I finished my shift

The restaurant dead
Air painful to breath
Homes shuttered
Bags packed
Fingers crossed
Prayers muttering from atheist lips
“May our loved ones houses stand through disasters, amen”
And I head home

Everyday I hope I don’t have to leave
Everyday I doubt that everything will be fine
Every single ******* day I pray to the gods that you believe in, even if I’m not sure they’re there

As I look through my past poetries
I've already felt the feelings I am feeling now
Like on repeat stream, I stream through it again
I will capture it once again,
Like a treasured entity.

The paper will be heavily inked
with an account of watery blotches
My eyes heavily rained
it makes an unforgettable picture,
the state of my heart,
the same as this half torn paper.

Listen.  Today i lost my voice -- it left upward looking for my mind.
sometimes the strangeness of Life becomes reality and nothing more.
today i found myself within a garden of snakes and meat-devouring
plants.  If not for the purple skies it would have been a wasted
experience.  Meeting God was an experience before i found myself
inside a fetus that became my physical body.
  the doves sang a brilliant but sometimes somber song;
peace of a piece so small it became nothing before i could
touch it's sharp and exquisite edge.
Listen.
Today i lost my mind.
and my voice flew downward looking for sanity.

:: 09.11.2020 ::

Spaces form between foreign fingers,
Resting hands go stale on oak tables
Where infatuation peeks and lingers.

Cups and candles placed like pawns
Waiting for battle, cups and candles
Lay between love and smiles.

Plates take their seats, carrying
Conversations and dripping mistakes
From one mouth to another.

Glasses touching and kissing,
Stirring desire into love, and
Teaching courage how to dance.

Knives and forks lay dormant,
Imprisoned to the landscape
By moving lips and perpetual talks.

Chatter comes floating, bound
To the bubbles and the foaming,
And ending at ears steaming.

Spilt love soaks the evening,
Washed out by late night dreaming,
Disguised as buoyant thinking.

I have a story to tell
But the words don’t sound right in my head
When I think about the story though
Scenes fly by
deep conversations take place
Exploring complex existential ideas
Figuring out who I am through my writing
But there I’m vulnerable
So I tell myself it doesn’t look right
Save myself the pain of finding out who I really am
Of sharing myself with the world
And being rejected by just one person
Because I try my hardest to be liked
Work my personality to the bone
And when people ask me why
I say because I want to be accepted. No. I want to be loved
But I never feel like I’ll get there
So I write those feelings in short little stories
But tell myself they don’t look right
And throw them away
Little parts of myself, discarded like the **** I feel like

Dwindling, spiraling, running out
Life is naught but a mayfly

No time but now
Yesterday, the only guarantee
But for a mayfly, there is no yesterday
And tomorrow is already out of the question
Yesterday and tomorrow
Mean nothing to the mayfly
And so we live today

Hummmmm
Goes the heart of the mayfly
Beating tirelessly, loving endlessly
Each indiscernible thump
Exuding the rich melody of life
Until it stops
And we return to dust

But oh! How passionately our hearts did beat!
Intoxicated by the pure joy of being
How could we be wrenched away
From the moments we shared
The moments we called trivial and routine that
We now romanticize

The mayfly lives for five minutes
The mayfly lives for the moment
The man lives for 79 years
The man lives for tomorrow
Until there are no more tomorrows

Until the cumulation of every unfulfilled dreams and desire
Come crashing down like a great wave and
We return to the dust

The mayfly has no tomorrow
The man needs not tomorrow

Dwindling, spiraling, running out
Life is naught but a mayfly

She can walk
          between
             night and day
               never letting either
                  get in her way.
She learned this trick
                     many moons ago
                                by
                     going deep within
           and never letting it show.
Her soul is innocent
her heart is pure
she’s gone through more
than most could endure.
            She’s an angel of light
                 an angel of dark
                 you never know
              what you will spark.
                      You want to hurt her?
                         Please, go ahead and try
                           she’ll be the one to show you
                                  just how well she can
                                                              f
­                                                                l­
                                                                ­  y.
                                  Her soul innocent
                    her heart pure
      but never think for one minute
that she’s not secure.
                                Say what you will
                          please, do what you must
                       but your jealousy and hatred
                             won’t waver her trust!
~

when your tongue lays silent
no song on your lips
still you are called "poet"
inhabiting that skin.
When the silence claims you
do not despair;
its all part of the journey
as necessary as air.