with the tides that crash against me
the more I slip out to the edges
from black rocks I'm on barely
you pull me to the storm that rages
I'm the beast within your beauty
you're the book of soft pages
I caress and turn slowly
adrift in you for ages
I picture you only
and when I stare into the darkness
the devils words enslave me
and his thunder is the cages
yet darker are the eyes that save me

Sam@010718

I still
keep wondering.
When was it
that I started
loving you
in these strange
unknown ways.
And that was
when I stopped
believing in
fairytales.

I can't fix your hope
if its shattared or broke
Can't change where you've been,
where you're at
or where your going.
If you decide to be taken
by ocean or pavement
needles in the basement
or another definitive arrangement
I can't stop you,
though I hope you'll pull through
perceive a different view
find a strength within you.
Life's got more to give
but you've gotta
build your own  bridges
to reach where it is.
I can't do this for you,
but I'll be here if you need me too
even if it's just to shoot the breeze or to lean on

On the 8’x10′ beige carpet that you chose
We lie together, spooning.
Of all the possibilities I had for myself
Never was this a part.
Never had I thought of a caressing hand
Holding me together.
Of eyes filled with passion
Transfixed on me.
Of another skin , this close to mine.

And slowly your grips tightens.
You hold me down.
Hold me captive in a heart so dear to me.
And I see all my dreams in front of me.
Are you making them come true?
Or are they leaking out of me?
Through the cracks made by strikes
Of your once loving hands.
Is their fading away their
Last goodbye to me?

But it’s a loss I can live with.
Tell me your dreams,
To fill the spaces that mine occupied.
Or tell me of a way to get mine back
Without having to leave you.
Tell me of love, your love.
Let my heart be consoled by that.
Tell me of how I once was,
Before you. I can’t remember,
Do you?

Kiss me, remind me
Why we are here?
Can you lessen my pain?
Can you free me?
You smile.
Of course, you can.

So I close my eyes and wait.
Wait patiently for my release.
I wait till I feel
The blade on my neck
And your breath on my back.
So this is love, isn’t it?
A slow death.
A silent wait.
Dripping blood
And a red carpet.

i can fold over the blankets
into triangles or
diamonds
crystals on the windowpane
and the chill chasing its way inside
i can clear the counters and
string up the lights
i can twist on the lamp and
slide between the wall and some comfort
i can curl into my dresser drawers
between the sweaters and
the socks
i can draw the curtains and
drag up the blinds to let the clouds
through the mesh
but still i’m falling victim to
a lackluster melancholia
and i suppose it would be fine
if the silk of the morning
didn’t make a habit of
curling itself around my throat
before i even lift my eyes
to the sun.

I etched patterns into a tree with a pocket knife that had a red plastic handle
            Indentions such as these never stay
            Yet eternally we press against the world

        Hoping to make a mark that will shine in the daylight and glow in the dark
                    ~

           I'm a shriveled slice of the Americana pie
      With my soul on a swivel and the devil in my eyes

       Life was a son of a ***** with fists that spat dirt when it spoke
                And it ONLY screamed.
        
         ~

   I'm somewhere between *David Duchovny and Stephen King
      And I'm trying to rip up manuscripts that I didn't write and I don't know who did.

      Goodnight America. My patterns will explain my existence more than I ever could.

Being interrupted by far off people making exceptionally loud sounds while trying to write poetry is exactly like having a horrible toothache and trying to perform a tracheotomy on a rabid cat.