I am bisexual
don't judge me
because there are many
of us out there
more than the eye can see

Outside my window I count
Three shadows.
Twelve legs.
Grazing.

Up here we call the elk
The King of the Woods.
[Antlers the width of your widescreen;
As convincing a crown as any].

When they run past the house
The crystal shakes in
The cupboard.
The cat breaks records up trees.

I am a man.
I am merely a man.
I will never own the night.

it was not so clear, the day. it was hostile and tranquil.
what sort of Day is That ?
I think it sparkles.
But it's gem is mean, beneath carbuncles -
and none shall pass
without wretched disfunction.
without Unpeace swilling the liqueur
of dark sweets.

it was not so clear, the day. but it clarified the manacles.
what sort of Day is that Dark ???
I think it hardens the heart of all kindness....
but it's dream is obscene, and needs the rest of Heaven's Council.
But Love's an ***
that saw the Angel... not the bulletproof glass.
just the the angle of Descent
and the " No Wisdom ".

it hurts Because.
You Live
for no reason at all
and that's the worst
Joy.

Because.

are those lips for me ? how my hope is so. my lust love is furnace lovely and you are so you.
bring both and be done. be done with roaming the geometries of lonely and the pith of stone fruit.
be glued to my all. attach your splendor to my wheels of joy and surround my demise
with renewal.

do this for me
and i'll be
doubloon.

a bit faded, i cruise through loose threads in my argument.
i recoil from dimwits that flip wigs and false coin.
i join the null set of lost clubs on main street, discreetly -
but strut like a peacock in leather feathers,
for non -boys...
so many
girls.

i'm in two worlds,
but **** if she don't fit in, pro bono.
she knows what i don't know, like a book spout of lovely.
my bones lend juice to the stew of her gifts, when she'll have me.
but luck gets cut and what not, and better fellas
rob joy from so
many worlds

they're Cuckoo.

i snip pearls
for this
one.

my intentions are
sincere
if not

see-through.

my love is that love
swerving in novas, gobsmacked and gibbering...
a funky cuss of lust
oblong in the short run
sprinting to horizons of forgotten doves;
cooling heel and grind-
in peat moss
of mauve thoughts; so lurid you could find them
in pitch dark.

my love is the love
that chinks your armor.
the  soft clang of a raging Kismet
port of your starboard !
i am in love with you
and this thing

is  "mostly harmless "

When lamination slowly starts to creep
We weep
We seek
To release
We're meek
Helpless
Sleep sleeplessly
Terrible dreams
We seek what they mean
Froze
Stuck
In our lamination
Paralyzed in our dreams
Rainbows and unicorns were not in them
And if they were they were what led me to these nightmares
Nightmares when I try to run
Try to scream
Try not to stare at the rising sun
My lips blue
lying on the beach
Skin pale and sand smeared lips
Eyes unblinking
almost vacant, but not quite

There's still life!
My body rarely barely breathing
So still that it's eerie
My brown eyes almost vacant and unmoving
I know I'm there
I can hear the ocean
I can feel the morning breeze brushing my sand covered face and the strands of my hair
The problem is that it isn't me
There's no way I'm this beautiful or pale
Yes, I'm almost dying
But she's not me
Her skin is a white porcelain
Her eyes are the only thing of mine that's hers
Her hair brown
Her figure slim yet curvy
I'm in her body
I remembered
My body changed
But not my soul
This is me
The opposite of me
In a parallel universe who almost succeeded in what I did
*My soul was showing me what my other me did too

Within me you found
A home that welcomed
Every bit of pain,
Every bit of dry,
Dark stained rose,
And drank from the cup of
Melancholy with content
But I am not stoic

The honey laced lies which
Escaped
Your bitter mouth found
Refuge in me,
And still I,
I foolishly gave you my all

Your hands are barb wired
That you can't touch without
Making me bleed,
What's love without pain?
Snow white sclera perfected
By a black dot runs after
My dreams evey **** day
You'd think you'd at least
Have the decency to leave
My dreams the hell alone

Your love doesn't gratify,
At least not like it used to
Apologies don't grate faults
No matter how much you
Adorn them with excuses

These Furies that laugh in their sleep
are the last to be reached
in a chasm.
To repel from oblivion's lip
and Have at 'em As atoms have
Nothing to cling too
And That Matters.

These Furies that die in their sleep
Are polite to at least keep the last spasm -
Hapless as a Trivial list Of Mad Pattern...
Though that Lantern Has Nothing to shine through -
And light scatters.

These wounds that laugh at sleep
They weep in a Keep Where the Night gathers.
Shelves of elaborate Script
Of a Myth of " Had Happened "

These eyes that dine on Sleep
They reap the breach Discretely Haggard...
The last gasp of Ice Nip
A tad Sadder...And That Saturn
has Ice Lanterns
More dark gladly
As Had
Phantoms.

we were older then. you with your horn-rimmed glasses
sleek as Hermes, resting on your button nose; dazzling.
your eyes were smoldering echoes, far off on a quest for
visions. mine
were nowhere
to be seen.
we poured over volumes of antiquity, blazoned with rich
art. Faustian marvels, leather bound and noble.
we traipsed the gallows of Dry Humors, lording it
over the gremlins of our isolation.
we had not been formally introduced and everything
was formal. we haunted the halls; our school of fish eyes
sparkling; weaving like serpents in the heather on ether.
we roamed the hallowed ground on secret missions
without Love.

then i asked you out. and changed the world.