Someone asked me
About how old I am today

He proceeded to tell me
That next year I'll be a year older

I supressed the tears
And gave a pretentious laugh

I couldn't imagine next year
Being alive for another year

Something about the cold.
Always makes me feel alive.
Even when otherwise,
I am dead inside.

Oh somewhere in the chill,
Is a will that hits the air,
A subtle sweetness, a fair
dream resounding here.

In my mind...
Blank spaces fill the gaps,
oh the universe is infinite, and nothing,
withing my synapses.
Hiding here, the greater fears,
of many people, many cultures,
many wordless wonders,
the newborns eyes look up,
blankly, oh yes, the void,
waiting, patiently,
calmly, emotionlessly,
just destiny. Hungry.
Ever fed, ever full,
every growing, ever receding,
cycling, spasming, living, dying.
All truth, all lie. All residing in here,
The darkest corners of my mind...

And then the cool breeze comes in,
Softly, sweetly, laying on,
those silly electrical currents upon,
nothing really exists anon.

Neither here nor there,
now nor later, just ok.
Just fine.
I feel less like Legion and more like one.
And it feels good.
I feel, alive.

one different
leaf
red when others were
green
hung on a lone branch  far below the glow

in shade and obscured
this red leaf survived
until autumn
when all the other leaves
turned to her

And turned red
asked
if they could climb down
and join her.

Silent in winds breeze their
answer came as they fell
free from branches
fluttered to the ground.

This different leaf clung
and felt so sorry so alone
felt the breeze
but never belonged
and wanting to

let go of her limb
wafted down
and joined those
in destiny
now, the same color,
brown.

to blame or commend
fate had I don't think nothing
to do with your predicaments
I had those same demands
ate from supermarkets
planned not this
didn't ever feel tradition had a hand in making my destiny

The shades are drawn in endless daylight, begging the night to fall yet loathing the months of night that will too soon follow these endless months of days.  Sleep does not come swiftly as feet twitch restlessly under cool sheets. The mind relives peaceful mornings by the creek with fishing rods in hand ******* on lollipops and skipping stones. Stones that for others seem to float on the surface, yet, thrown by my young hand sank like the rocks that they were. click, click, click, the beads of the abacus counting time in my dreamlike wannabe state. The beep of the microwave oven jars the mind and the scent of coffee wakes the brain, only to realize it was the sound of the alarm clock and the cupboard does not hold the coffee so loved in dreams yet detested in reality. The solitude of morning, which looks like evening, which looks like night tastes like rotten onions in the mouth you struggle eat with. Remnants of equestrian dreams linger in a hazy head pounding like a basketball across the the court. The lampshade is covered in a purple scarf, giving off just enough light to not have to open the shades.  

Day begins with a gargle of mouthwash that tastes like Campho Phenique

hoping to get rid of the residue of rotten onion dreams that remind you of a life you never thought you'd live.

Windshields hide Him from me.
The touch of man; the sin is mine.
The accident left me buried at fifteen.
Death came from me then.
Again.
I thought death could not reach me
through these ***** windshields.
IT can though, the death that lives.

goldfish bowls I swim
           catfish whiskers I become
salmon eggs I spawned
             with bilious cloud
upon a bed of red roses
             in a ***
on my coffee table
            under a painting
by Evanescence
              over a whisper
under a fog
               through a plant
of ferns there was erased
             by Led Zeppelin
the lost
                onceness.

I quit. Cause the
                 dreams remain.

I fly
       through the branches avoiding
                                                     their reach
indiscriminately
       like a long-tailed magpie
                                                      I reach
into ******* and pull out hearts
          in small broken pieces to feather
                                                        my nest.

I pull out your picture
Smooth skin and hazel eyes
Even in photographs they hypnotize
Calling my name in whispers
Pounding at my *****
Electric shocks to the groin
Waking the senses
Feeling revived
Revitalized, alive
There, ever unchanged
Your gaze upon mine
Motionless, emotionless
Frozen, in time
When you realized I was she
Perfection
Unwavering
An alternate reality
Returning affection
A two way street of romantic love
Unseen. Unnoticed. Unrealized
Yet real just the same
Innocent, unthinking
With no one to blame
Knowing you want me
That you always did
Nothing but glimpses
Of an awkward kid
Turned man
Turned desire
Lascivious by design
Liquifying resistance
Wasting no time
A bit of shy
A hint of coy
Vanish all remnants
Of that innocent boy
By the light of the screen
I lay here
Alone
Feeling the heat of you
Making me moan
Desire unabated
I finish unsated
Abusing your picture
In ways you condone