Reach back
Smell the ancient cigarette smoke
On pages soaked
With the sweat of lost love

Cramped hand
Suppress bile rising like waves
Do not read
Better off to forget

Faded heart
Etched on the empty shell of memory
Forever burned
By your stolen embrace

Replicated "t" square, heated and manipulated to match a hand drawn schematic, eye-balled and transferred to a soiled napkin two days prior.

Recovery spent melee inspired by whispered breath. Kin to wind, multi- colored marshmallows, or hard candies that have been rewrapped quickly and shuffled to the bottom of the bag.

Periscope ala multi-limbed, e.g. tentacular. Rain spun abundant large geometric insect eyes radiating opalescent transit; here and there, over or under, stop and go, when = then, two - days - life - end.

Glowing hand, darkest white light in a vacant space. All secrets hidden with trust, imagination, and neglect; recalling memories for those who live to forget. Like a hunger fed plentifully followed by a playful belch aloud for honor and comfort. Later, the indulgence calls and abdominal gases produce an acidic truth that burns the memory back into awareness.

Flush it away now! Get rid of it quickly. There is no time to respect the whole past, only that which allows performance to continue uninterrupted.

Tuck those memories away deeper this time; the ***** will drown you before it drowns them. Laying around and crying aloud won't pay the bills; if nothing else remember, a good American is a good consumer and a good consumer never wastes time getting to know themselves  when the alternative is television.

It's getting harder to forget that I'm not big on regret when my one disappointment keeps piling in my head.  
I'll admit to my mistake.
I won't admit that I'm sad.
Or how furious I am that things turned out so bad.
I can't say I wish it never happened
Or how I want the thoughts to just go away
taking the pain brought with it from that very day.
That very night.
There were so many signs,
Just to say, "Stop.
I don't want this.
Get out of my sight."
Even though at the time - I was blind.
Can't believe this wishful thinking
My pathetic mind.
The side of me that still has hope.
The need to be needed
To feel like I'm not. A joke.
To look right up through the scope,
Capture you kneeling.
After all I'm only human, but thats lost all meaning.
And no I'm not done.
We all played the game.
All lost on a bed while chanting your name.
Brought us up so high - said we were the best.
Threw in a congratulations, now on to the next.
I want to share this pain,
'til you feel it like the blood pumping through those veins.
Makes its way to your heart and then anchors you back down,
down
down
to the start.
It wasn't love, doesn't mean I didn't cry.
Thinking back to that very day.
That very night.
Knowing I spent the whole time,
Wishing you were another guy.

She's like acid reflux
Bubbling in the balled up pit of my stomach
Pangs of searing acidic bile rising in my throat
I have to swallow to keep it all down
The words I would ***** in her face if I could
The kind of noxious fluid immune to my control
I'd love to see her dripping with my complaint
Stained by her own disdain
Regurgitated onto her own front smock
An adage to her own hysterical hypocrisy

Ocasionally, on a breezy night, when
the winds are blowing through.
I listen as the grasshoppers chirp, and
paint the morning dew.

And In the morning when
the chirping choir has gone their seperate ways
I hear the clouds rumbling in
to bring the afternoon some shade.

Soon the clouds grow darker, as
they hide the sun from sight.
Bringing out the glorious moon,
and turning day to night.

Then the winds start howling,
calling out their names.
Bringing out the night time chirpers,
to sing their song again.

the room was kind of yellow, but pale
shade of a misty afternoon grey
and dully highlighting your face –

I knew it was you,
by the direction of your palm and one
single eyelash slept upon the floor.

it is the blues being in love some days,
but that day was yellow and grey,
raining and hazing your eyelids over.

I thought it would be more milky –
secrete some special substances you
could taste, sweet and as nice as love

breathing wild: how could this
be okay, not comprehend a difference
of one kiss and one yellowing touch,

yet same somehow, yet the same
the room ate some parts of your head
and I fell in love with it despite that –

yellow and grey, bitter rain, I knew it.

Your face doesn't seem to belong there,
On your head.
A child supplied with glue,
You stuck it there.
I don't believe you when you say it was always there.

And all the dimensions of the universe have changed,
reversed,
In some kind of dream land
Where nothing can be trusted
Not your face nor your voice nor your scent.

Watch out! I say
They're coming closer,
What if they can tell.
And i study your face to see if you've heard me,
Did my voice sound out, or was it just in my head?

For now my mind has no limits
It is thrown about by a misplaced equilibrium,
Which has forgotten it's own limits
It's own basis of equality.

So I take your hand in mine,
And your hand becomes me, as I become You
and we try our best to run,
Although everything conspires against us,
And we laugh in our secret escaping.

speak silently now
because whispers
are all that we can
afford on a simple
budget of fool's
dreams and past
pretenses

i want to love you
in the worst way
that makes my skin
crawl and teeth
chatter as i lay
in bed thinking
of your too smooth
skin and sad, strange
eyes

the past punctures
dreams and shows
me what my heart
has not forgotten,
one broken piece
at a time

i think i'll take
a ride now, and fly
over this city on
my bike until
hands freeze to
handlebars and
i forget what
standing still is

the way my mind
interprets you makes
me want to, just for
the way you tell your
stories, or crack jokes.

you keep creeping into
the synapses firing like
an execution squadron
all around my brain, and
i can't shake these musings.

(a) maybe i want to prove
something to myself,
(if you find out what, let
me know) or (b) myself
to something, or not.

or maybe (c)
i'm just sad and alone,
and maybe i wish you'(d)
read this, and mayb(e) i
know you will.

trick question, option (f),
maybe i just want to know
what it would be like to
wake you from existence
with the slap to the face
or bucket of glacial water
my lips have always
been.