Pressure between your shoulders,
shaping your spine; shadowing the blind,
stress relief through ancient grief,
tho’ less wise you’ll still criticize
the actions of your reflections
painted in the mirrors leaking nightmares,

And in the end you’ll still evaluate
only when things aren’t great,
while I’ll continue to *******
on these precious tectonic plates,
painting over the old world
with new shades of chaos.

We’ll ***** and moan until we all grow old
and increase the fire until someone puts it out,
and yet we’ll never know what it was all about.

The answer buried under the aged wonder
flowing beneath my chambers,
never to be uncovered
until everyone is in the pit,
skeletal ash, so delicately rash,
now consequences return
as the careless burn.

and we are our own ****** hot spots,
erupting over your own ****** thoughts,
mixing lava where it doesn’t belong,
and ******* your world into a massive batholith,
a dried chunk of a once damp heart,
now contemplate how to complicate
and begin again from the start,
until the pressure of it all relapses
and from within a fatal collapse,
Poetic caldera relinquishing the day,
and all that you know will be broken,
and all that you don’t, you won’t.

Building up until you’re breaking down,
closing in until they’re all around,
fish like thoughts like robots in reverse,
like a curse in clockwork in which

you've forgotten how to flip this switch
from off to on from dusk ‘til dawn;
boiling point to make you clench,
teeth gritted and nerves pressed,

cerebrum stressed like a suicide hex
wearing you until you’re skin and bones;
zero fat and a bundle of mistaken homes
but none your own, like an infant alone

abandoned in the freezing cold,
no sense of the blessed nor the rest;
calming tears for misguided fears
shed along the wild prong,

poked and bled into those ahead
of your own flesh and bone;
with tension evolving to apprehension,
nails dig into palm as you learn never to stay calm.

Over time we lose our mind
deep in valleys indiscreet,
bound with treasures buried behind
the empty vessel we’ll one day meet.

Searching for an answer to it all
even though it’s written on the wall,
blended in with spare last words
engraved along the bathroom stall.

One day maybe we will see
the bottle floating in the sea,
and unwrap its final note
to reveal what destiny wrote.

Can you feel the distraught knot
suffocating the veins which keep you sane?

Melanoma of melancholy’s coma
inflaming the reins attached to mares

leading us into inevitable nightmares;
valuable stallions influenced by fiery battalions

with the scarlet eyes that makes the harlot cry
in the depths of nerves long burst, retinas forever cursed;

visions plagiarized by the pseudowise,
those not destined to die

now tip their glasses and dine;
a toast to regretted time.

Bold texture, innards feasting
on an empty mixture
of this, that, and the other,
and whatever else that feels
like sticking to my shoes.

Can’t conceal your fear, nor mine,
of being left far behind
in the blood dust and crude crust
plaguing our teeth
and all that **** underneath.

Oh, what is this?
I don’t even want to know;
you say you’re alone
and I say I am too,
but who was it that first blew
air onto the other?
and who was it that first said
don’t even bother?

Bold eyes staring into these cold skies,
ice on the sheets chilling our blood raw,
freezing to the point where we can’t even fall.

We’re so raw,

and you’re so wrong, and so am I,
and I’m so right, and so are you,

and answers don’t even matter
when you can’t remember
the question you wanted to ask,
like the future and the past,
and this ******* present
wondering where it all went
when you had it in your hand;
come up with another plan
to make up for yesterday,
you bold clever man,
and compensate for what you’ve wronged;
could have said it in your sleep
and shrugged the thought away
like a broken microwave.

Wait, there’s always time
to **** up and shut up and build up
until there’s nothing left,
until there’s anything but it all,
until we’re so **** raw,
arms out but we’ll never fall.

Stop and explode before our hearts implode;
yeah, it’s a mess, but I digress,
such regrets, like a hole,
why aren’t we whole? why so ******* dull?
and we were just on a roll, it seems, such deceives;
juxtapositional dreams aren’t so rare
when you’ve misplaced the world
and we stop to care; where did it go?
oh, we were once so bold, long ago,
when our shoes were so clean,
and dreams were easier to believe.

Such heavy weights straining anticipated dates,
with dysfunction swallowing eternal junction,
the shadow people bait us into nevermore
and then they seal the door.

Swiveling in my chair;
chivalry’s not so fair
when you aren’t here
to compare

the ducks in the pond,
where we used to ponder
temperatures on the other side,
and wonder

how much bread we needed,
and where they went in the winter
when wind was thick with frost;
how bitter

life seems now in my lazy chair,
lonesome feet limp on the ground,
with thoughts of your touch
spinning ‘round

my mind; consuming my time,
memories like scrapbooks
flipping from front to back,
with looks

that excite me years later,
as I dwell in my little chair
and you sleep under covers
we share

two thousand miles
away.