With the crimson ink from the bleeding heart
The fingers dipped into it to write a memoir
Indelible will be the saga, etched in memory forever
No malice towards each other, but only gripping pain
But with the crimson hues, the love story gets a fitting adieu

~

“Float to me”


Changing directions
In a forestalled motion,
balanced on the side of truth while practicing losing my step
in the rushing waters of life…
I slip

Clinging to a lone branch
I find it blocking the sky, pulling shadows from mist
and teetering on the edge of someone’s sacred sanity

My eyes,
stern and fashioned of blinded occurrences that swallow
the light of day and the masks of sympathetic stares,
focus

For in the distance,
tapestries woven of heartbeats glisten on the ripples of a naked moon beam,
motioning to me in pleasing movements a’ dance on its reflections

Passionately in syncopated volumes she whispers,
louder than the hope now swirling in the rising swells
and broken slivers of drastic wastelands which
sit vacant in my mind

“Float to me”,

I hear as the cool waters so elegantly gather about her perfect feet
Her toes grip the rocky floor in such beauty that I fall helplessly,
allowing nature’s crest to take me, singing me sweetly to this pristine dream

Disbelief churns in fountains of doubt fed wishes and desires
as I submerge in the beauty that is her
Engulfed by white capped rapids beating faster…only my heart
She, with silken fingers plucks me from the surf,
her fragrance, lilac and magnolia, intoxicate me

We stand, shades of the deep sky and starlight beacons illume her face
As fireflies play in the trees and
our lips meet, my pulse floods with fever

Her desperate thoughts invade my elated mind and I agree
Together we plunge to the depths of forever and I slowly drown in her love

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.

Instability is exciting.
The constant search for solid ground incites all forms of emotion,
so one is never bored.
There is this everlasting feeling of being in a state of free falling.
It starts by randomly scraping against walls,
then moves to finding moments of light filled clarity,
to scrambling to find a truth to clutch onto in a darkness that may feel endless.
Through out instability, whether it is exciting or terrifying,
the growth you feel and attain becomes insatiable.

no gloom in the garden of death my son, just a hole in the sea
a late night snack on the sponge cake of transcendence.
a pristine oblivion. shackled to the jawbone of a golden ogre of rapture.
and the garden; a tip coin in a filthy hat.

on a corner with no street lamp.

Addiction is a real thing
South of the last thing... a grim dope
in the hopeless soap fiend
of a washing; where a mind dreams
but a head, thinks -
where a heart
stopped.

and we live
Unseen.

implosions are for starfish and our mission is clear. we have nowhere to be from
and that's half the battle. we are seldom unbridled in the chastity of our carnal bluff...
and our cages are breathing. we are finally designing our most daring Inertia.
both mum on the details in the devil's flotsam. we jot some of the names of the nameless...
on the outside of Dixie cups. like mint julep promise to a tangerine honest.

again and again, we ache through the breeze of our soothing traumas. we court the verity of a sham.
we blast through the congregation of our adversary, snipping varmints from a stale camp
in the southernmost of our due south,; where they fear the bonfire until a vagrant maps
the flaming tongues to a long kiss.... and we crash upon the shore
of Never Asked.

but regret This.