The truth is I am a drunk who has lost his morals.
I seek help, I hear beauty, but I do not know.
Cherish, for I cannot seem to be able.
That's a lie, for I do cherish, but I do not appreciate.
That's also a lie, for I do appreciate.
I am a man.

Write quick - write swift!
Can you hear it?
The inside tells us so
beautiful mold
beautiful untold
Break it, but trust it.

Closed colors
Smooth, deep, and dark shavings
showering the canvas
like a creamy jazz cafe
only brass and drum-skin can be heard
raw and unafraid of the creative

Tapered measure - not what, but want.
Take me to your grave, your stubborn stills
Frozen jacket, simple pleasure
Winter's grave, forgotten thrills
Cut loss, lust for me
Now you're here with me, I can feel it
The slow ooze down into it
Loosened by the night
Alive and down
Alive and drowned
Secular fun

The furnace, the one I grew up with in my parents home.
Well, she sits on the red sofa now, clicking through Netflix options.
I'm pondering my luck with her artistic pose.
My poetic style, it doesn't fit. I've never wrote.
Glancing at her tattoos and her skin makes sense.
"Everything that has to do with a baby, it's a reflex," she says.
How can I not?
She's now reading a textbook.
I should have listened to more NPR, maybe not.
She holds her fingers to her lips while she reads.
Now, I definitely should have listened to more NPR.
But, I didn't. And as she sprawls out on my red couch in comfort I know, again, that I love her.
Cliché? Yes, but **** it.
It's newfound love.

Stapled conscious to the floor again
and wrestled with warped wood panels
on paint stained cement.
Briefly for a moment, a paused paradise
emerged just beside the swinging rope light -
cobwebs.
In the basement their thin beams are darkened -
ageless art and ancient evolution converging in ****** of creation.
Sit still my friend and watch the leg ballet.

I am floored.

She teaches me with brown eyes the youth I've forgotten.
Every breath I take in thought of her pulls heavy on my lungs.
I can't stop.
The blankets I lay on turn to flesh and I firmly grasp what I'm able.
Her scent still lingers from our last lay.
Inhaling these moments only intensifies our time spent together.
****** ******* frenzy.
This woman rewrites what I claim of passion.
I know nothing now - she must lead me and I follow.
Her lips secrete the sweetest wine, her tongue uncorks me.
She wants me on cold kitchen counters and wooden floors.
I can't keep count.
We are sinning for the worse, the relationship founded on ***.
Reckless turns us on,
we push and pull and pinch and grab and bite and nibble and lick our way to the next line.
Whatever it takes to get off - she & I must have it all.

These storms of passion return a calm to my chest.
I'm reassured of who I am - why I am.
She has floored me, and I ******* love it.