your mouth is a door,
and someday you are going to be told that it's just better left closed.

your eyes are the windows to your soul,
and someday people are going to tell you to draw the curtains.

your heart has been unpacked from the basement,
and someday someone is going to tell you to put it away.

and your optimism is a candle in your windows, and someday everyone's going to try and blow it out.

i'm telling you this,
because when that someday comes i want you to know what to say.

you say,

"my mouth is a door, and i hold the key."
"my eyes are the windows to my soul and i'll wash them regularly."
"my heart will not be put away, it goes with everything."
"my optimism is a candle, and it keeps me warm."

when that someday comes,
i want you to know what to say...

you say,
"this is my house, and it's not for sale."

1)  get a canvas

2)  get some unicorn paint

3)  paint a unicorn

4)  realize you can't paint a unicorn

5)  cry

6)  paint the moon

7)  put glitter and a horn on the moon

8)  pretend it's a fat unicorn

9)  be happy

10) show your dog

11) call the dog back into the room

12) show your dog again

13) get a new dog

14) show that dog

15) tell that dog it's being too critical

16) ask that dog to leave

17) put the picture in the bin

18) decide never to paint unicorns again

19) eat chocolate

20) decide to paint a dragon

Run out of bad luck,
This is something else

Was never enough,
I could slowly tell.

Our hearts pump bad blood
A cultivating self

I thought I could trust
You with all I felt.

But I feel nothing..
When you're so far away.

No I feel something..
I feel okay
Without you
I'm sorry to say

It's me
Was me
Has been me the whole time.

Disease
What eats
At me
And fuels me with lies

I see
What is Beneath
And what's inside

I bleed
I feed
And need
To save my own life.

Goodbye

i've never met a
poet who wasn't
pretentious
not that they're that way
all the time and not
that it's a bad thing.

but it's expected for
anyone with a mind loud
enough to put words together
in an artistic manner and
assume that others
actually want to read them.

i've never met a
poet who wasn't
pretentious
even if only on paper.

The cello sings Ave Maria.
Distilled calm; blister packs
In a wet July.

There is peace in every grain,
So fine. Wore away the stone,
Three drownings in the sea.
Annihilation

To build a monument
We settle upon:
Our paradise recovery.

There is warmth after the rain.
Ukulele played on the
Gran Cervantes balcony.
Off-white scars;
Pyramids with no eyes.

Every stoner sleeps.
Every kind heart cries.

The Arc of Life sings a lullaby,
Still I cannot get calm.
In a wet July

A comfort to staying inside.
We tried, wore away our lungs,
Three renewals in the sea.
A leap of faith,

An old keepsake
We contrived upon:
Our lunatic discovery.

There is movement in death.
Pollen falls to the ground;
Exhale of recovery.
Dead-end joy,
Statuettes with no eyes.

Every criminal weeps,
Every kind heart lies.

The cello sings Ave Maria.
The strings that heal
In a wet July.

Do you go to bed thinking about her?
Do you wake up hoping she's still awake for you to talk to?
Do you get excited when you talk to her?
Does she make you happy?
Do you think about her when you’re with your friends?
Do you want to talk to her always?
Do you wish she was sleeping there next to you?
Do you wish you could cuddle with her and hold her?
Do you care about her as much as you said you cared about me?
Do you love her?

"It is a deepening,"
                         she said
and took his hand
to her watery bed,
beaming her light
upon those almost
invisible threads
in particles subtly
                 speaking
in sparkling aquatic tongues
like colored crystals,
felt in shards of icy wine
shells sifted
in far-flung
            seas of time
Shining down as
we dive to the depths
we lead each other on
We are the  
           explorers of the dark
We have
powerful equipment
to attempt to clarify
radiate it all up
              and if it fails,
the light from
our eyes and hands
is enough to illuminate
the murky
        waters below
our salvation,
deep-sea secrets
revealed—
churning in undertow
         In fact, if you dare
to penetrate the dark
and cast aside
fear of predators
               you will see-
the ruins of
an ancient temple
                waiting,
just waiting
for you
       for me
to dance amongst
the algae-coated
alabaster, green
wisps moving
in hypnotic motion
to weave in-between
the fish and corals,
a magic breathing in
of ocean
in sync with our own
                          breaths
This expanse of endlessness
        …..so many layers to discover
to sway and trip the light
in quiet,
            breathless joy
The feel of electric
flow around our feet.
Saltwater,
            turning sweet.
It is time
for the next stage
                     to begin
So tip your
head back,
my love---
and
       drink it
                     in