The hate that grows in the fertile soil of the heart will
poison the blood within .

Watered with adequate lies will grow and encapsulate the will

The blood turns black
and poisons every cell of the body

Everything that comes out from within is cold and spiteful and loves dwelling in sin and ignorance

I don't mind but you are really getting to me
No I don't care that you are lying all the time
Nor why you are such a disaster when it comes to being human
You are a gun ; loaded , cocked , and ready to ****
I only got the rest of my life and I find you really waste my time
If you don't understand well try again

You waste my time time

looking down a gunbarrel of intent
did all the spiders went
the ground so shakes

i am the master of feet
no one comes compleat
out of step we fakes

take what we sleeve
no use to grieve
hardwired

opening up the closing door
follow cracks in hidden floor
expired

touch me but don't
love me I won't
the far nearly there

I gasp at the hold
no value in gold
fling your donkie in the air

every night
love the fight in fear of sight
all the times a wastin'

ole lizard lips is Baskin
sister is always fasting
snip snip . . . tin tim

This is a love letter:

You are the skin between my teeth.
You are the skin of my teeth,
you’re a skinned knee.
You feel good to me when you shouldn’t,

I miss you when I ache.

This is a fumbled ball
recovered by the same team.
Of course I’m my best me
when I pretend I don’t want you,
I make playlists when I let me do.

I’m too much for you.

I know sometimes you want me too

I’m just,
we could ruin it,
we could flood the wholeworld
dry up like raisins,

become the pebble in each
other's shoe.

And I’ve traveled so far from you,
carved an “L” into the land,
and at each end
I feel heat.

A pilot light still lit
where the two legs meet.

I met your ghost in a dream
and he said “
if you wait to ask the question
the answer will be “too Late.”

I face backwards most my days.

Darkness waters you
in the parts of your mind i can’t see,


but I can smell the flowers.

you notice
that you're hurting me to the tears,
however,
I confess in a soft voice
that it was deeper than this.

Reflections are tricky things
Man didn't create them
Only trapped them
Hung them on a wall for his own vain glory
The glassy stillness of a lake
Was first
To echo reality above it
Distorted
It ripples like a gateway
At the kiss of a stone

It calls, it beckons
l have mystery lurking
What will happen if you
Little you
Dared to pass through
With no intention of return?
One might find oneself upside down
Standing in the sky
And brushing their feet against the stars
Or there might be monsters
Real ones
Which we can touch and feel and fight
And see while fighting
The seeds of monstrous things
Separate themselves from us
In the last few seconds of life
And we see them laid out

Even knowing this
The water calls
To the nine tenths of us it possesses
Enticing us
With the idea of a world
Identical to ours
I think
Have you ever stopped
Looked
Counted the branches?
It would be impossible
So we assume

And as the water accepts you
Feet
Waist
Hands
Shoulders
Hair, drifting like seaweed in the tide
It whispers to you
Just a little deeper now
So you go on
On
Until you discover, or drown

Or
Until you are pulled upwards
Arms grasping you around the chest
As your lungs burn with the ache of tipped scales, the balance within you lost
And you hear the voice whisper
Breath warming your ear

Not like this
My friend
Not like this

Don’t write me poetry

It’s never worked before
Vanity, all of it, vanity
And I don’t want any
More-words, just-words, nothing-but words

I don’t care for
The structure
The way
It is so easy to steal
Phrases
lines
Automatic sigh-bringers
Used a thousand times
By history’s pen and
Those more worthy to hold it
than you

All you did
Was take the bag
Of scrabble tiles
Rattling and clacking together
And shake
Once
Twice
Thrice
Forced
Farce
Until you were satisfied with what it gave

And you threw away the rest

That’s not art
That’s strategy

It’s too neat
Neat like summer
Neat like children’s books
(not the good ones)
Formula following
Empty and hollow-ringing

Give me something real
Instead
Give me the ramblings, twisting
wanderings of your mind
give me the dark places
the secrets
the mysteries that lurk in the depths
like sea dragons
like the ocean itself
there is so much more
so much wilder and deeper

so
grab my hand and pull me in with you
don’t flatter me while dipping our toes
because why
why would we choose the ship
the safe little dingy
bleached wood, branded logo on the side
when underneath
lies atlantis
and
the depths