To be seventeen
and young and mean,
where the future is mine,
or so is the slogan
of those left behind.

To be seventeen,
still lit by the flame
of dear curiosity
and burning ever bright.
The age of experimentation,
a way that should never die
if you expect to have
any sort of life at all;
a train of thought
that should never
arrive at the terminal.

Full of spirit
and adventure,
to be seventeen,
built like a machine
without a schedule,
following whatever
seems right, and ignoring
the opinions of those
too bigoted to understand
a simple Poem.

To be seventeen
with an imagination
of indestructible
titanium reinforcing,
enclosed around an
ever wandering mind,
and if superstition
held any ounce of truth,
I’d already be blind.

But I seem to be
well enough,
despite a liver
that’s worth ****,
and will probably be
worth even less
in seventeen more years
to come.

Until then, however,
I will continue to be
whatever age I value,
and to do what it is
that feels right,
that feels like me,
that feels like
whatever the hell.

And then I will probably write
another Poem on the whim about
whatever the hell again,
because that is the only thing
ever worth writing about.

You dig?

I was at a musical festival in Chicago
when I witnessed true beauty
in a portable toilet.

All around we were having fun,
sweating, bleeding, dancing,
doing what humans are meant to do
and not what we think
we’re meant to do,
but following what our instincts
tell us to do,
and that is
the natural response,
the correct response,
the human response.

In that toilet in Chicago
I saw beauty at its finest,
and that was a ***
of one dollar bills
drowning in a pool
of ****.

We were above money,
above commercial jingles,
above the tyranny
                      that
                    is
           social
    order.
We were above the clouds
and more so, we were above
ourselves
and everything
the rest of the world stood for.

We did not need possessions
to possess us,
nor did we need
a clean bowl
to *****.

And standing there
in the center of
Humanity’s soul
I took my turn
and ******
on Washington’s face.

There was a black child
stumbling along the deserted road,
heading in my direction,
although I doubt he even knew.

It was the first person I’d seen
in well over a week, at least;
even if he was not the soul
I forever seek, I gladly accepted
his withered embrace.

He looked into my eyes,
and I looked into his.

There was something lost in them.

“Help me,” the boy croaked,
and passed out in my arms.
I cradled him like he was my own,
and in my mind, he was.

I built a fire and laid him on a blanket
that I previously found
in a destroyed supermarket,
inspecting the affecting effects
of total annihilation.

He was more bones than skin;
most of his teeth missing
from tar bled gums,
and his stomach was bruised
from God knows what.

I wondered where his parents were,
and if he even knew himself.

Suddenly my mind
was filled with a flash of flesh
grilling against more flesh,
where anxious fingers dug in.

Tears met as unwanted
satisfaction struck
with remorse,
and thoughts
of a better time.

These visions are something
I will never get used to.

In the morning the boy was dead.

I never even knew his name,
but it didn’t stop me
from telling him mine,
all the same.

In this abstruse mist we

Levitate and coexist
Over all scenarios conceivable
Visions never unbelievable while
Entwined within your soul

You make me completely whole
Offering you all of me, for this
Unfailing love will always be…

I don’t enjoy the TV
as much as others seem;
rather say goodbye to reality
and hello to a new dream.

Never have felt the sea,
yet it means more to me
than it does to you.

The moon is my getaway
while the sun is your only way;
a day without light
has never been so bright
from where I stand,
and from where you can’t,
for in your point of view
it’s just another
inconvenience
to get through;

like a coffee stain
at the crotch
of your pants,

you continue to scrub.

You ever see one of those
old guys who spend their days
wandering the town
with the soles of their
never weary shoes?

Their history tends to be a mystery.
Primary family most likely
already buried in a plot
where they’ll be in a few years,
maybe months, or days.
All other relatives
no longer relative.
Left alone with the
sun on their backs,
and the memories
in their minds.
And if they live
in a house,
you’ve never seen it.
Or if they live at all,
you don’t believe it.

And like yesterday
and hopefully tomorrow,
today they’ll walk
and study the alien
replacements
of their youth,
and wonder
what the hell
happened.

Someone threw a Molotov cocktail
in the car lot last night;
a flame kissed treetops
and rained glass
upon the street.

A homeless man held his arms out,
eyes closed and mouth open wide,
head tilted back in the ecstasy
of it all, savoring
the raindrops of anarchy.

No one questioned their motives;
no one questioned anything,
anymore;

just went off in search
for a broom.

The next day everything
went back to normal,
and all was good.

another one died
over the weekend,
this one a black
who dressed like
he was going
places;

he did not go any place,
except the only place
that we all wish
to go,

some day.

they found him
in his house;
he was already gone.

what had happened
was not revealed,
although that did not
prevent others
from playing
detective;

whether they earned
their paycheck
has yet to be
determined.

I hope they don’t
get a dime.

the details may have changed
as the rumors continued
to spread,

but it did not change
the fact
that he was still
dead,

and always would be.

In a dangerous spot where my worries rot,
but never go, no, they haunt me so.
In a deadly place, mind’s bound by old lace,
burning the wick and ingesting lovely arsenic.

Let the unknown take me home;
we’re all depressed, so just let me rest,
lay me to sleep where the innocent weep.

No more comfort zone, now that paranoia’s grown
into my very own silhouette, and yet I don’t regret
looking into your eyes, planting hatred for dreaded goodbyes;
glued as one, impossible to ever be undone.

Days tick by and I can’t help but wonder why
it’s getting harder to trust my shell, this anxiety cell,
trapped by jaded streams and fed by invaded dreams.

Waking sweating of aghast, an era soon surpassed
by knowledge fit to last, so let us take a blast
to a higher moon, where it plays our favorite tune;
together in perfect seclusion, diminishes all delusion.

Disregard your playing cards,
leave them in the burning fields;
they were fixed from the make,
anyway.

Tear away at your Poetry,
and bury the remains beneath
your weeping willow tree
where the black orchids grow.

Turn back into the fog
to the only home you know;
as opaque as your prefer:
blindness lacking cost.

Abandon the appropriate apparatus;
never to be fit for this dead sea;
it’s all disproportioned,
anyway.

I assume the worst
out of every occasion.
It is only my nature
to imagine
horrifying reactions
for every action.
Every minute late
is a minute’s worth
of faulty brakes
and stray bullets.

I am not a cynic,
I am merely a writer.
Now I understand
why most of the great
authors of our time
were miserable alcoholics.
Otherwise they would have
blown their brains out
long before they finished
a single story.

I do not ever want a child
to worry over at night,
I do not want to account
for every bruise and scratch.
I can only pray
I never become attached
to my immediate family.
I do not want a lover
to think about
when she’s gone.
It’s impossible to be
together forever,
so let’s not be together
at all.

Fingers crossed,
I will roam alone
until my time is finally
withdrawn.

And with any amount of luck,
it will be before
any of you.

Unravel the twist tie
Coherent thought gone awry

Frantic

Shaking

I cannot comply

Any longer,
And I'm sure to die

Squeeze clean the balloon
Aching for my angelic cartoon

Empty the contents into the syringe

Wishing,

Yearning for the eternal binge

Stab the needle into my wrist
Please let it forever consist

Increase the dosage,

Make me feel like I exist

Feel the beauty shooting up my arm
Satisfaction can leave no harm

Like a perfect sky,
Where ecstasy is the drops

And it always rains,

My heroine fills my veins

I don’t like this screen anymore;
can’t grasp words like the past,
definitions or lack thereof.

objectives reveling sonically
with objects of sold bronze.

wired tight
with fire’s might,
as squires fight
over who’s
the better squire,

despite there lacking
a knight, or even a lord.

I don’t know what I like anymore,
maybe it’s aversion,
my preferred adversary,
serving our *******.

there’s something itchy
about this place,
something hitherto
I could not scratch.

now I do,
and it just spreads
the rash,

as usual.

Cigarette ashes
spilled on the bible,
while violet lashes
intensified my vitals.

I saw the ashes
fallen from the ember,
such an abysmal symbol
staining thy holy center

with familiar cancer dust,
while unanswered questions rust,
until I can’t believe them,
I can’t believe you,

I can’t believe …

but I do.

The injection
The perfection
A numbing high
A bliss I can't deny

The inhalation
The dreamt sensation
A solace turned thrill
An intoxication she'll instill

******, tripping in zest
Another hit, I've been blessed
*******, whiskey, paramount ****
The ultimate drug, she's what I need

No agenda for rehabilitation
Plunging deeper into fascination
Peeling away at the skin of society
Never want to enter sobriety

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.

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.

The rain’s coming down in hot snowflakes
as I stand in the center with my arms spread,
and my tongue sticks out catching the flames.

My eyes close and I am there in your head;
we run through fields under cotton candy clouds,
projecting tranquil shade wherever we roam.

And the rain outside is making my hair wet
as I take a breath for you and then another,
just like I had in those days of yesteryears.

I breathe in this breeze known to me
and send this fresh wind back to you,
so that now you can share mutual air.

*Breathe …

Pencil shavings spilled in the drawer,
layering over my cerebrum cortex,
like fallout that fell out from my sleeve,
shaken down with me to the ground,
but bound never to leave.

Despite all this,
the pencil tip still snaps
whenever it feels my pain,
regardless if it’s invented or installed.

A thousand pencils broken in my grasp,
yet no words ever seem to last;
rhetorical questions and questionable rhetorics
jabbing my eye as if I’ve already worn it,
but the fabric feels more new to me
than the first day I bought it,

and I can’t remember
what I did with the receipt;
think I might’ve lost it in the gutter
with the other organisms
that were no better;

but maybe, if you would let it,
I could try my luck with some store credit.

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.

I used to fantasize
about moving into
a small studio
apartment
in the city,
working odd jobs
to pay the rent
and support my
imaginary
alcoholism,
while writing
my fiction
and watching
the strangers
be strange.

I still do
sometimes.

listen to the curtains in their dust;
could pull the strings anytime
and reveal that predictable sun,
but I’d rather bathe in darkness,
melting into your rare warmth,
in the silence of our knowledge
and the comfort of our skin,
with the finishing touches on our lips,
welcomed shadows deliver us to bliss.

I once met a man who was crazy.
He worked in a cubicle,
and thought he was perfectly normal.

Then I met a man who was completely sane,
but persisted there be an “in”
added to the beginning of the title.
He paid for therapy once a week.

I swear, they both drove me nuts.

Today I found a phone
half-buried in ashes.
I casually picked it up
and dialed your cell.

You answered on the first ring;
a faint wink from lady luck.
Your voice caressed my ears
and I burst out into tears.

I inquired about your day
and you told me all about it,
that you were on your way home,
and asked me to lay out hamburger.

I told you of course I would,
and that I couldn’t wait until
you pulled up in the drive;
I would kiss you forever.

I begged you to please hurry
and you reassured my worries;
you were just around the corner,
and soon we would be together.

I sobbed and told you I loved you
and you told me you loved me, too.
And I believed your every word,
even if the phone had no battery.

Insects welcoming themselves
in and around her eyes,
rushing the universal act
known as decomposition,
but they will just have to wait,
for she is not yet ready
to experience the encore
of cruelty.

A veil to secure
her condemned health;
tho’ there is no use
when she sees
little strings of blood
in her *****.

Maggots drilling deep
into her wretched gut,
a pool of forsaken oil
pouring out between
ghost white fingers,
and staining feet
with its cancer.

Outcasted by those
still blessed by ignorance,
she continues to stumble
under these street lights,
forming puddles
in her death gaze.

There was once a time when my wife
would have made a fuss over my nails,
nagged me to scrape the dirt underneath
until I was presentable to guests.

But that was a long time ago,
back when my wife was still in my life,
and not a memory distorting mindwaves.

Now the only guests I am able to endure
are the vultures impersonating Death’s halo;
enhanced in a game of waiting the other out,
determined to last until the other cracks.

The dirt under my fingernails worry me;
ponderings of how long they will remain,
and if I will ever clean them at all,
actions depending solely on
the annoyances of a lost void.

Where are you?

Do you remember that July afternoon
where we took a walk in the woods
and got lost on purpose?

Some people may not understand
why we did what we did.
Well, those people can
continue being on time
right on to hell.

Do you remember the trees we passed,
that perfect day of our past?
It would not, by any long shot,
be our last.

Do you remember how your hand felt
locked within my own, as we strolled
our own private planet?

Can you still see the lake
we stumbled across, and feel
how cold the water had been
as we jumped in, freshly stripped
of all clothing?

Can you still hear the sound
of our bodies splashing
as the heat fled from our
system?

Can you picture what it was like
as I led you on tiptoes
to the center of the universe,
where the curse
of consequence
was no longer valid,
where you wrapped your legs
around my waist,
and I kissed
your wet lips,
looking into your eyes
and yours into mine,
and ever so discretely
entering the only
warmth left in
all of the lake?

Do you remember how
the mosquitoes took a day off
just for us?

                                        

                                                    I do.

Amorous static shocking souls,
Aspired electric transfusion
Affectionate beat combo,
Hair rising, wondrous levitation
Hence from optical illusion
Paradise in the realm of duo-salvation
Ground rumbles, a vibration
Amid this secure hand combination
Like an infinite tube of glue
Forever sealed within our fate
You’re for me, and I’m for you

Hands twirled in wild hair
Eyes caught in reassuring clouds

Blinking in unison
Bodies sinking in surrounding grass
Sensations wished to last

Two in one
Never done
Moving as a single being
Harmonic lips begin to sing
The lovers' song
To which we belong

A perfect trinity
Of confessional infinity
Whispers into your ear
And echoes back towards me

Peace is here
Conquering any fear




of


falling


Arms            wide               open

Bound in our radiant hue
Forever catching you

Echoes bouncing and spiraling
Aspiring to conspire incessant inspiring
Conceived during connected reveries
For every ounce used to gain our desire
Revealing bliss as we venture higher
A level which can only progress
Living in our own astral awareness

Heart beating at a supersonic pace
A yearned triplet with symphonic grace
As the echoes reverberate through our core
And the two halves beg,

beg

for more...

Hey, what are you doing?
Don’t tell me, though.
I honestly don’t care,
just thought I’d ask,
wearing my Himalayan mask.

Eleven at night on a Tuesday;
arrow pierced my nose,
leaking dusted snot,
head a drowsy mass,
a dizzy, unfathomable knot
beckoning me into a slumber,

yet I feel this tranquil
half-conscious state
as I hear the ever dear
lonesome crowded west,
all the while ******* in
the crust of plate tectonics,
that hypnotic spell
of the devoted neurotic,

and in a few
the lights will finally perish
and my Styrofoam boots
will once again
walk on ice.

Attracted to the moon
with as much attachment
as my mind holds on you.

Distracted by the glow
singularizing its presence,
like when you enter the room
and the music forgets to breathe.

Knowledge of contentment
drifting in this Poetic awareness,
the moon’s kiss like a favored abyss.

High on the chemicals between us,
losing myself deep within
rare subterranean spirals,
where everything is made,
save for the bed.

You taught us human beings to sing
over puddles so beautiful,
and showed us lost souls
how to be whole
while the world
fell apart.

You introduced a drug,
purple and chimerical;
intoxicated my way
and saved the stars
before the sun rose.

An escape so rare
and Poetically inclined,
deep in your zone
where even the mosquitoes
hold no annoyance;
you’ve given me the moon
and pointed out
why we love it.

Now I return
the gift of escape
from darkness so bleak;
flip on the switch
so that you will wake.

Euphoria is a drug we know well
A short lasting high
But the greatest of them all
A quick fix here and there
Will never suffice
Nor will the whole supply
But it gets us through the day

Euphoria in our veins
Heated from the inside
Weak and stronger than ever
Grips tighten as souls enlighten
For the fifth or sixth time
Or some other number
We've lost count
We can't count
What are numbers?
Mathematics are of no concern
To a couple addicts

My euphoria
Stay with me
Bring me home
Sail me away
Euphoria

Fog in my head
Swimming like clouds
Nothing is wrong
When we're this high

So stay close
For a little while longer
Sweet euphoria

You'll ruin us all

Tarnished capsule
Elevates levitation
Animated colors
Projecting importance

Caught in our glow
Blinded by what we create
And the stars do know
Of this beauty we radiate

For we excel this beautiful spell
Higher than the clouds
Deeper than the soul
With your hand in mine
And we are whole

To seal the deal
With this kiss
My lips on yours
Paused in a sky of bliss

I drink your heart
While you consume my mind
And we know, high on our sublime
That this ride has only just begun

Hypnotic brown eyes, a lovely smile
Watch you strut over, exquisite style
Ethereal odor, arms ‘round your hips
Faces entwined, an attachment of lips

Roaming hands, a ripping of attire
Tumble to the floor, burning the fire
A series of licks, which only persist
Companied by a squeeze, a little twist

Pursue the descent, wet the hot trail
Take a little bite, swallow every detail
Like a puzzle piece, between your thighs
I taste your flesh, vision past the skies

Tongue rolls out, digs into your treasure
You arch forward, moaning of pleasure
Hunger quenched, a rapturous delight
Our souls are one, such a perfect night

Maybe we’re all better off dead,
I ponder, as the thoughts replay
again and again throughout my head.

And when your ponderings can’t focus
long enough to match with the last,
you have to wonder if perhaps
you’re already completely ******.

****** of thought,
****** of fresh ideas,
****** of it all.

So **** it all.

— the motto of a thousand deluded slugs,
bugs lathered in slime; thoroughly spattered
with imbalanced chemicals of an imagined time,
                                    
                      ­             and I couldn’t agree more.

Head pounding
at the insensible drum roll
of the closing in
overwhelming mass
of dull hysterics;
the ever present drone …
                      I can hear it …
                                 I can’t bear it …

destroying me from the inside out
                     until I
            implode
                                      a sickness
infecting all pure stars reflecting
across a lake
contaminated
by a thick oil
lucidly pleasing the spoiled,

and      I’m         thrown
          right in the
              center
sinking
            at
                a­ slow
                          melancholic pace,

like quicksand you’ll never understand,
a liquid so intolerably bland,
I’ll be relieved when my lungs finally
                                                         ­    collapse
to this long awaited lapse
of closure.

Do not try to grab my hand.
I wouldn’t even know what to do
with dry land if I had it.
Let me dissolve with the fallen;
I’m already deeper in
than I am out, anyway.

My interest has long since faded.
Can’t relocate purpose for the Word,
for I am ever bored, and you can feel
rest assured there is nothing more.

No ingenious plan for escape.
No story-arch that hasn’t already been repeated.
No conclusion that I can’t predict.
No two-faced intentions that won’t contradict
all the reasons I used to enjoy those creative seasons,

and I can feel the decomposing treason
chilling my heart to its core,
like a rancid breeze stirred just for me.

Left with no purpose, no drive;
on the inside, I’m not even alive.

**** up

                                        Pathetic



*******,­
      
                 all
                              
                     *******


Reasons naught
pointless
counterpoints


**** up


Cosmic             *******

every
           last

detail

every
           last

derail

until the tracks
can

                       no longer


be wielded
back                                                
                          
                                     ­                        together

to

                 get

                                    her


Lost

like my mind
                  no longer mine
                                        so far behind


**** up


Flesh inflamed
eyes insane
slippery      
    
                                    dame


fallen

        ­                     from my        grasp


fire’s less oblivious


too much sweat, I bet


of a **** up


sweating out

                      the eyes

as I hear
                  
                        finalized
                                    cries


mine
        
                                       no more

nothing

                                       anymore

lone shadow

                                       forevermore

breathe

                                       nevermore




                                                  ­                 ******
                                                          ­             up

A flick of the matches
Unleashes paranoia in batches,
No where to run, nor to hide,
Access to bliss has been denied,

Creepy crawlers slithering from above,
Stability laughs down at my lack thereof,
The walls are closing in upon my physique,
All this **** makes me want to shriek,

Resentment overload is the overcast
From the cracked muzzle of the unsurpassed,
The gas can devours from the soul,
Slowly creating a wearisome tainted hole,

Hallucinogenic petrol bleeding into my eyes,
Have suspicion tomorrow is on the rise,
The walls of frustration are caving in
And the flames are smoldering against my skin.

Your name came like a ghost
in that frosted windowpane
I stood in front of;

our hands connected
with ice on our fingers,
skeletons in the winter;
cursive’s not bitter
when crafted from
our own breath,
no longer distracted with
our own death,

until the glass shattered
and pierced our faces;
created art we couldn’t
possibly start,
nonetheless end—

yet we did,

again and again
and again.

Stumbling numbly through the dark
with the moonlight upon my face;
sick of this world, the one fed by grace.
I take another sip of my toxic *****;
please join me, I’ve got the graveyard blues.

Kick some rubble, stomp the dirt,
craving a human, some juicy dessert.
Its absence stings, makes me hurt;
am I the only one left to convert?

I won’t have it, I won’t give it,
gonna scratch, gonna burn your skin,
gonna stain the white flag red
and resurrect my beloved undead.

Let’s take a ride and darken the bruise,
only if we erase my graveyard blues.

Curse the soil, raise the zombie,
my little skinny flesh eater—
—ah, there ain’t nothin’ sweeter.

Laugh with my fanged beasts
as they howl at the moon,
reminding me of a familiar tune.

Bring out the blood drinkers
and decapitate the good thinkers;
brains for dinner, brains for lunch,
flesh n’ such the ghouls munch.

Release the creatures from their cell;
again, they roam the night—
—time to raise hell.

Sharpen the claws of my sinister muse,
lend it a blood-inked quill—
—no more graveyard blues.

Night air, so tranquil,
accompanied by you and me,
and an ever gentle breeze
soothing our decree.

Words so soft,
spoken like raindrops
making love to a puddle;
majestic discretion revealed
to the only two willing souls
savoring the sky.

Nineteen hours away,
you still manage to sink
into my welcomed chest
as our synched eyes caress
a harvest moon at its finest,

the royal glow ascertaining
a profound truth heavier than
the radiant Venus hanging below
on its translucent string,
swinging with the stars,
swinging in our arms,
in our hearts;
evermore.

tears infect her eyes as she hears his car
pull up in the drive she knows he isn’t far
lights stroke the wall he’s returned from the bar
and white heat soothes the anticipated scar

drunk again he stumbles through the door
he smells of rage and his words are a slur
fists are balled up and he’s hungry for more
violent bursts delivered to a lying *****

lips quiver to be silenced further she is unable
she screams as she slams the glass onto the table
it shatters like her spirit she is mentally unstable
tonight is different she will be the one to disable

even though it was inevitable his eyes open wide
as she leaves her shell she will no longer have to hide
she reaches under the pillow and lets her hand slide
until she finds the pistol and god knows she has tried

but she already knew the attempts were no use
should have walked out long before the abuse
moved on to a better life away from this recluse
she knows this escape he will never refuse

deep down she accepts it’s either her or the other
to fix this snapped wire when he will never bother
too many nights spent in tears there will not be another
so with a grin she shoots down her daughter’s father...

Gone!

Teeth like a chattering cage,
spit trickles down my chin;
a lost age insane with rage
originated from an unknown cause.

Effect!

All that you affect connects
like a forgotten dream
returning to focus,
lens cap unscrewed,
tinted glass rendezvous with you
and the rest are plenty *******, too.

Suspense!

Intense instrumental theme
heard once in last month’s dream,
tho’ it’s hard to recall the rest,
save for the way you were dressed
in that gown covered in dismal ash
and the sound we made as that bus crashed.

Death!

Interrupted breaths everywhere we could look,
blood streaks in our hair and in our eyes,
with vague corpses sprawled out on the road,
the heat pulsating on the pavement, soon to explode.

Premonition!

Grungy revved engine of a soul bound for hell,
followed by a gargling fit of a throat slit well;
a thousand ****** of a thorn bush behind my eyes
welcoming me to the world before my love dies,
proceeded by a man who couldn’t see the stars,
and now he sees them fine but it lacks the grace
that intoxicated his state whenever he saw your face.

Regret!

Wish I’d lost that game of roulette instead of you
as my lonesome legs dangle on our rented crater
on our empty moon shielded by those clouds
that once made us so **** proud;
now remorse’s just so **** loud.

Silence!

Occupied by fits of violence in this web of mold,
folded small enough to slip right through my pocket
and those ****** are enraged as I claw my socket,
but of course that only inflames it even more,
pumping steel on this bus and I’ve locked the door;
salty bliss in view where I’ll finally join you;
forgive me dear, this time I’ll help you through,
revel as I tune in to your luminescent level
where we’ll bathe in our sublime crescent,
sealed in the splash of my welcomed crash.

Home!

Fingers caressing delicate piano keys
along the softness of your spine,
arm wrapping around what is mine
and pulling you closer to what is yours.

Your head resting against my chest,
eyelids heavy with utmost content
as outside waves rebel on the shore.

I kiss the top of your tired head,
wild hair tickling my lips
as we trace sleepy circles along warm skin.

The night comes to a rest
and we are too exhausted to protest,
caught in the peaceful silhouette
of a moon yawning its melody.

Our embrace intensifies
as two fated raindrops saturate
into the same leaf.

disrupt
the quiet tune,
erupt
yonder bloom.

I wonder
how long
we’ll wander.

It’s not a game,
but we’re winning
anyway;

must be insane
to consider us sane,

but who does?

the look in your eyes
constellates what we create,

in the valley
of star dust
and car rust,

we fell in bed
in a house
without a roof,
and hoped for rain;

oh, how we prayed.

there was this lady
with these streaks
in her hair

but there were no streaks
in her mood
like a flat square
of cardboard
you wanted to beat
until a new shape
crafted

one day she says,
“I don’t got nothin’”
to which I pointed out,
“well at least that’s
somethin’”

she stopped
and asked me
what I meant
looking at me
real funny

I smirked and said
“ah, I wouldn’t give it
a second thought,
honey”

she never did get
what I meant.

Comfort in flying,
entwined, we’re soaring
through a sky worth exploring,
embraced and forming
a snow angel in the clouds of tomorrow;
solitary in shape, universal in spirit.

Acceptance in dying
as long as your hand’s in mine,
and my lips are on yours
and we continue beating
from the same drum
even ever after.

Iniquity trampled
by the omniscient shadows
our rising crescents cast
glowing in the moonlight
like two vermillion balloons
sprouted from the same string
coated with an invincible shell
impenetrable by even the sharpest blade.

And we are sinking deeper
into this everlasting night
where the sun never rises
and we never care,
for your breath
warms my soul
and my soul
soothes your heart
and your heart
inhaled into mine
keeps us immortal
‘til the end of time

                                                      

                                                          and beyond.

Rope withers
Pries us from this
Barricade
This land is not meant
To hold us
This dock is not meant
To keep us
From drifting away

Feel my outstretched hand
And take a leap
But do not fear how deep
This sea may be
For we are deeper

And my arms are stronger
Than a thousand anchors
Glued to your magnet touch
Catching you like the bucket
Catches the rain
Overflowing affection

Like a leaf
Evaporating droplets
Of what makes you you
And subsequences
With what makes me me
Soaking our senses
Within the same waters

Absorb your heart with mine
And jump off this pier
Land into my embrace
Where, together, is always
The most perfect place

Using only each other
As our own balance support
Untie the decomposing rope
And allow our eternal raft
To follow the moon
Into a new vision

Where even the darkest of storms
Hinder us not

Climbing up from this prolonged descent,
two halves combined being what destiny meant;
losing my discontent, rare of malcontent,
forever yearning to breathe your scent.

An enchantment you present …

Hand-in-hand this world we shall explore;
these winds are impossible to ignore,
means more than some ******* metaphor;
pounding fists against the locked door.

Your mind I do adore …

Together we’ll overcome the conflicted,
negative thoughts vanished, all contradicted;
time’s ******* restricted, frustration’s inflicted;
the hourglass has been thoroughly afflicted.

I’ll survive ‘cause I’m addicted …

Like a match strike, the love’s automatic,
want to join your church, for I’m a fanatic;
your character cinematic, soul charismatic,
talking to you makes me ecstatic.

*I’m your addict.