I can hear the rising and falling
of your chest
from continents away
even though you are not
that far
you might as well as be
my heart has no knowledge of time and space
if you are not in my arms
then you are not close enough
and I’ve been trying to find my place
in relation to the world and your life
I am a mere mortal
you are the sun
blaring down on my back
like a steady drum
I try to stare at you
but I cry
blurred image of you
is replaced in my mind’s eye
you leave me when I need you the most
at night
when my thoughts grow cold
and I’m forced to visit
the empty vessels
and broken ships
in my collection
of nightmares
you hang over me
like the temptation
of cocking this gun to my head
it does not matter if I get any better
or worse
you will not come back
the sun does not visit the night
no matter how many times
the wolf cries
instead it watches from afar
hiding safely behind the moon
i guess this is how its going to be
for the rest of forever
this is our positions
in the solar system

****** and sensual
I’m an icicle
glowing white light
suckled out of the soul
now where to go
live in my mind
hate travels in my blood vessels
and it pulses to the tempo
let go let go
catch and release
can you feel me
I’m feeling you
feeling this
is it out of reach?
tracing magic spells on your skin
and your telling me my hands
are your favorite sin
and I want to get deeper inside you
then just your flesh
read my palms tell me what’s next
I’m a flickering flame
live in my heart
love travels in my blood vessels
and it pulses to the tempo
let go let go
limbs and joints
worn and torn
take me back to the skeleton
death rebirth creation
I love your body so much because
its the tangible part of you

Am I the only one who feels your presence?

you thicken the air with unspoken secrets,

you’re the battle raging inside me;

my inner demons.

You pass the time by keeping me on your mind,

and on your leash,

and in your prison,

but its all invisible.

Your matter lasting shorter than a cigarette,

but you linger.

In my clothes; heavy smoke.

In the abandoned house

that left me in shambles,

in the memories stained on the walls,

housed in forever.

And I wander,

and you roam.

You're the ghost

with no home,

and I’m the body

with no where to go

but there is no difference.

So scream at me through your subliminal words,

see me through pictures,

visit me in day dreams and blurs.

We’ll play this game your way,

the silence between us is killing me but its what you deserve.

So we'll vibrate thought transference at different dimensions,

send me your hologram and I'll trip through your dreams inverse.

There is a ghost in the backyard of my father’s house overlooking the lake.
I only come by once in a while to rest my head from my travels
but when I do visit, the ghost is faithfully floating above the place that haunts me.
She never looks into my eyes,
but I know she starts her performance when she feels me around.
Her phantom is that of a polluted princess - acid rain.
Sometimes I sit and stare at her safely from the screen.
And she’ll start moving the way she always does.
Tragedy embedded in her every movement
and I can see the vibrations from her mouth shoot off into the night sky,
tears come to my eyes. But no one can hear her cries, except mine.
The tree branches encourage her misery
and they sway in synchronicity with her body.
She struggles for freedom, the branches lift higher.
She falls to the floor and leaves splash around her; elegantly descending.
Most times I look away.
I already know what happens next.
But then there are the times when I’m feeling morose and existential,
cigarette in my hand poised like a gun to my mouth; suicidal.
Those are the times I keep looking at her.
She then turns toward me, cuffed at the hands - dragging.
She doesn't want to leave. Her ghost-like body transcends the doors and walls,
and she’s heading toward the front door. She goes through me on her way out.
In that precise moment where we both are one, I feel whole again.
She continues on past my matter, and I’m vacant.
Gypsy living has taken me worlds away from my father’s place.
But I still think about the ghost ******* the lake and when I do, time and space
travel me down a spiral south bound.
gaped open, mouth wide, wide eyes transmogrify
the missing part of myself into
something someone can hold in the palms of their hands
that screams suffer, lover.
Losing you can't replace.
Darkness closing in settles in comfortably, finds a cozy place.
She is an extension of me due to my pain.
And I relive it every time I visit the lake.
Maybe one day ghost girl will walk through me and stay.

Sometimes your words are mistaken for poetry.
I made a note of this smoking stokes on the back porch with you
Overlooking the lake.
I asked you what you thought I was in my past life and you said a bird.
I couldn’t fly though, because as a baby I hit my head against a tree.
You said I did manage to fly in a circle a couple of times before I died.
The life before that I was part of a dandelion. A petal among the many petals.
I didn’t mind though. I thought it was cool and simple.
What about my life before that one?
You were the molecules inside of a Samurai sword.
But the man who owned me wasn’t a very good fighter.
He died shortly after, you said.
Sometimes I don’t know if you’re a pathological liar or maybe you are an angel
Telling me all these spirituals truths.
Nonetheless, I think you’re brilliant.
So what about after that?
Well, you were in the 12th dimension before then. I can’t see into that life.
But you’ve lived through four cycles.
You ****** in the smoked, threw it out, and gave me a half smile.
And I cocked my head to the right, squint my eyes, and read through you.

I finally quit smoking cigarettes. I'm sorry that I made you unhappy, but at the time that was me giving my best shot, putting my best foot forward, at love. Speaking of love, there are so many things I've learned that I would love to share with you. Each time I learn a lesson I think to myself, "I can't wait to tell him this one" until I realize I can't. Because I won't. Because its not the right time. I've had a lot of time on my hands. Have you ever felt that? The weight of time on your hands? It's slow and it's heavy, and sometimes it hurts too much to carry. I'm not alone anymore. I have too many ghosts circulating my veins and sitting on the front porch of my mind to be lonely. But you, I make room for you. In the back of my head, close to the nape of my neck, the place you used to grab with your hand when you pulled me in for a kiss..... that is where I keep you. I wish I could keep you. I wish I could take you away from this god forsaken place and take the next flight to Russia. Remember that time we spinned the globe, closed our eyes, and randomly pointed to a place that we would go together someday? I don't even remember the name of the place. And that makes me wonder if you remember me at all. But here's something I'll never forget. I'll never forget that you loved me, even if you did. And maybe one day you'll wake up one morning look across the street and realize I'm exactly what you need, and I'm ready to be that person. Or maybe every morning you wake up I fade farther and farther away from your heart. Either way, everything will be fine. There is a theory that our Universe may be just one of the many in an infinite "Multiverse" in which every possible event is played out somewhere. I'm sure in at least one of them, we're loving eachother.

Cracked out on moonlight,
hazy from coasting through the night awake.
I don't need drugs to feel this way.
I am in tune with the mystics, the insomniacs,
and the men who walk out of the *******
at 5 in the morning.
We all have our reasons to be alive.
Mine is lost in obscurity in between the lines
traced on my palms.
I envision God with a knife.
Carving scratches on my hands predetermining my life.
My mouth worries and my fingers translate.
And all the while I'm holding a book in my heart
enscribed with the message:
Beautifully Bloomed,
Beautifully Doomed.
Who can read this cryptic message?
The Moon.