Essentially, I want
to love what has
never been loved
before

to hold what has
never been hurt
against my heart

to fight death
with my bare
hands

and conquer it

you're no good

A drop of tear fell on his food

earn your meal or go to hell*

in his mouth froze the morsel

the swallowed burned in his pit
wished he could *****

then pouring they came
raindrops of shame
flooding the part eaten meal
crushing his will
ever to live again
in hunger's pain.

~
Shades of painted corners
face these inward fears
Now drenched in lost endeavors
and flat as the cornerstone of suffering
Caught within boundaries along wasting moments,
crying blanket feelings,
pounding on the walls of despair

“leaving fist prints like so many discarded roses”

Calling out to the endless deafness
“Time it does not heal,
scars merely cut deeper”,  
echoes among the tapered dreams
Fog engulfs the melody…slowly
chasing after poetic symphonies
playing in a westward direction

“horizontal compass points from this to that”

This weary hand trembles
violently as it reaches, pleads
Where the monochrome sun sets,
beyond the chosen horizon
in heart shaped vistas and opened arm landscapes
Trust in amber glowing beacons
wave banners of solitude

“free flowing fabric beckoning in rhythmic motions”

Forcing the stoic front door…open
Creaking hinges scream, your fears cup beneath your chest
Breathing in the stench of life
but lured by the fragrance of the future
Where sorrow drowns in cascade pools,
pain hides where it can not be found
and he waits to lift you…beyond the darkness


*“and you find you have wings, shimmering in this golden friendship”

It was nearly over in the cold dark October;
And each separate modified driving leaving us begging for more.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—as I sank in sorrow
These dirt driving devils, so hard to catch the win we might as well call it Elenore
For the season of speed and chasing the lead was over, we had lost Elenore—
           Trophyless here begging for more

Time is a social construct,
constricting us to certain hours
and denying us the potential magic of others.

The little boy unclenched
his sticky fist,
freeing his blue balloon
into the wide open sky.
"If you can fly,
then I shouldn't stop you,"
he said to the balloon
as it floated
                           out
                          ­           of
                                            sight.

In the magical moonlight, I wish I could hold him tight
On the wet grass lay I, beneath the Banyan, in the silver twilight
Branches sway to the rhythm of the crickets
Cool wind gushing into my ears, escaping into the darkness within
Like the scar above my eyebrow, he left behind a memory
Catching notice like the pain that caused it.
I close my eyes and I hear him
The intimacy in his voice awoke a long-lost God
infinite layers within me.
"But why? why? Just why?
Why don't you want love, *****?" I ask
He says "Love is unhealthy", I turn away and sigh
I look up at the dark sky to watch those beautiful stars I can't reach
He is right in the middle of it all, glistening bright
Like the Sirius to the night sky, a nocturnal emperor
I am fortunate enough to warm myself with a cuddly blanket
Well, it's just that I wish the blanket was him.

should i be scared yet?
i want to ask you this, and yet
the one thing i am afraid of, it seems
is letting those words escape
as we make our move across the plains
of sheer, drunken power
shimmering strength hidden among hushed voices
as the space stretching from my shoulders to yours
grows smaller, inch by inch
until the whole world has been crushed between our bodies
and we are the only ones left
and the silence
is ours to fill, ours to defeat
should i be scared yet? i ask myself
as we are drawn into battle, side by side
and yet it feels less like a war
and more like a dangerous dance
so with my fear pocketed
and the question mark buried at the bottom
i press play, a harrowing decision
and i move away from the buttons
before i can change my mind
and innocently, softly
i remind the world to hold on tight
because you and i
are moving space and time tonight

I should tell time by the words spoken
That way when death came knocking at least we would have conversation
Choose scheme carefully for it could mean one um to close to middle age
Two  I loves you's from adulthood

Words would mean more than the method to maim
Slander the budding of free thinking mind
Or take light from a flicking candle
If time could be stunted by vocal notions
Glodal pops and humming lyrics
Then lovers would never die
And poets would fade into
The everyday mayhap the fickle trickle back into the ether

The quiet would be lovely
Emoting the stillness of nature birdsong would fill the silence as it was meant to
And the air would not be littered with the dank smell of spit and betrayal

You could ask me the weather by motion
Dance me into existence with the way your eyes spark and the grace of your smile
Such language would be peaceful
Dreaming a dream
So calming I might not
Wake
For there was nothing to curse me from it

The muted manner of being
May transcend the busy buzzing of the rat track motion
Squeeking out their horror and joy
Such silence
Such relief
If words could tell time
Forever in bliss I would be