to feel the pressure
building in your ears
like that thud contemplating
between two chords of hollow
resounding wood,
a twisting root manifesting
wiring squeezing skittering
across the surface we all fall~
there is naught in retrospect  
upon reflected conflicts and
toppling restrictions
hearts in chains like tail fins,
caught in a net cast deep into
frothy salty seas
hoping to trap what is not ours,
thinking what it was
thinking to grasp
gouging for a grip
into this vulnerable scare
slippery slip

the washing glimmer of sunlit sky
marble blue and streaked so cry
the ignited magenta and yellow and white
we call to the wind so the scent can wither

the breath and mind toiling together
as ones feet carry on into the yonder
the shadow dances upon the sweet pavement
and sweat toils of poignantly off of chilly skin  

the wind carries the leaves from trees
starkly contrast a darkening hue
the pace steady weaving through pockets of hills
and rounding corners, spinning likes mills

passing by the stare of wary signs
sometimes to pave our things away
the vigor running under the sky
we all have lives we care for into the night

drift pleasantly into the wafting glimmer
the enunciated murmur of a purring simmer
the tickling breath chilly spite of the victor's vigor
the momentum upon present infatuations
sought for the hands of the lost bridal remnant

feet brushing the moistened soil
milky coral china topple the path
the splash of hotly brewed tea
lavender and jasmine and lemon ginger
seeping into the cool, hard ground

feel the air swirl in your lungs
the colors of the trees a respirator  
glinting their fiery embers
they embark far into the silly autumn night

cool blue shadows creep uphill
stretching and lengthening for night's full bloom
the hours have waned, the sun a lovely hue
as the woes of nature have come down to hunt

tonight, a ceaseless glare
the electricity flare into the bristling air
dank with the stench of cuts
inflicted by the shards of broken keeps

tonight, this beloved connection
seething into the desire to eye
drinking in the sight of one's such fright
the resounding thump of nervous swallow

shrink into the pit of an ice storm
limbs frozen, afraid to be betrayed
the pupils rimmed by bristling halos
sculpted hallow so that the other may fill it--

with memories of what shall soon become

gray whispering breaths brush against the shore
the salty sand shifts under bare feet
the seagulls streaking to the flared pink sky
as the water push and pull, frothy tongues
tracing a marble mirror on the bank of white sea corals

gently, the clouds surge across
and the foot prints trail to yonder
sea ***** shuffle like roaming rubies
and the salty air sweeps away all gone sour
tonight, we will feast on this magnificence
before the beauty in us all expires

my complexion darkened
by that skeletal wrist wrought with rust
dusted blood of what used to run  
an impression of who I used to be

strumming the strings to my spinal chord
that blissful music a sweet morphine
to still those poisonous lips registered
to the skittered voices taking refuge in my head

the morphine doesn't always hold
I search for that sweet spot too withdraw
the shrill eccentricity screeching I cannot suppress
the silly frigid air protrude with a single glare

breaths puff and heartbeats escalate
as eyes are met--green and brown
hazel to the cerulean blue  
the tepid synchronization of similar frequencies

how the night glimmering lights
illuminate the graffiti of complicated shadows
simmer into a wilting tilt of sorrowful flowers
how the roses are drowned and never to fill

how the match in my chest lights anew
I have to do my best to keep it alive
caress it but don't get burned by it
I can never see too far into the future

but I can only know what I am
off of glare at this present precision
how will I ever know who I am
if I cannot see two feet surrounding

alluring this flame through
the sky-scraping scent of night
delicate to the visionaries too steep
as the head begins to pound out of its keep

avoid those dark corners
I once used to brood
take a break on a flight of stairs
and gaze out the flashes blurring by

keep my teeth in my cheek
the tongue will slip out sharp and cut someone
keep the thoughts from rolling slickly off of it  
the top of my head is not a good place to stand

cannot catch the lanterns aflame  
the oil reeking, creases in the folds
the droning silence of deserted verses
the smoke piling from smothering affection

gone fragile, aboard a sailing boat
it cruises slowly going under
and as the salty kisses whisk the sails
the frothy waters, it leaves a white trail

twice I turned my back to the shore
where could I possibly go?
still as the compass spins encrusted upon frigid morals
gripping the ropes so the boat can stay afloat

thinking I had the steering in pins
thought I could set sail to the settling murmur
thought I could find the words to speak with,
the light retraced, now a surface of mirrors  

slowly the water ripples in coiling gleams
leading me on into a frightening wonder
lost at sea like a discarded ice berg
a lone passage, a nonexistent oar, I wonder

pens scratch on paper
and thoughts splatter like rain
as minds once tied into knots, creators
unravels to reflect their tepid domain

how emotions fly, fluidity
scripted like a altruistic savior
such sublime niches of simplicity
as writers seep onto thin sheets of paper

their colors glow undead
the paper stains into withering, soften
as their drowning thoughts in their head
resurface to breath from conflicting complexions

their fragments to marvel
dot the blank verses on paper
like rain which pulled from foggy slopes
to scour the concrete in which they devour

remember their voices
a translation amidst clouds
pearly roaming choices
soon to dot the ground

Fake plastic roses balanced in a ***
Fake plastic flowers adorn the patio
They say these flowers are beautiful
But no, they are simply synthetic to the skeletal

It’s like the things we think are cute
The things we think we are supposed to do
But simply living in an outer plastic mold
We burn that skin organic to our kin

Throw a little grit, paint a little bit
Unveil the perception which have filmed our minds
Give a little ****, care for that abandoned soul
We are not all numbers on a metric scale inclined

These plastic flowers glisten from the sunlight
Yet they are not there for photosynthesis in sight
They may be pretty to look at
But they are fake and plastic, if you haven’t known that

For once, try to live a little
They say, their sly slithering faces
Their rejection to an another intuition
Their fists pounding in faces

Try to live a little
I drink coffee at morning break
I drink tea at settling dusk
Yet I sit in glassed encased circle

I see everything in sight
Saturated with meaning and rich despite
Yet never can I touch the things wanted the most
Sitting in the middle of a relapsing circle

The glass doesn’t chip
My fingerprints fog the surface
I pound my fists
Yet leave an ocean of smudges

Blinded to the world
There is nothing I can do
Sometimes I feel like
My mind has diluted to mush

I sit in a place of concrete corners
Of spilling sunlight brimming poignantly
As the leaves go about swimming
On etchings of passing neighboring ghosts

The air cool to my cheek
And the sky baby blue in yawn
I sit in a place of concrete corners
Surrounded by elements my mother brought upon

See the nurture of her hands
The dew drops which bead the petals
The butterflies which flutter upon sunlight demand
And the soil which seeps in beckon to bite of metal  

Lonely I sit, surrounded by granite shavings
And a wandering mind which refuses to sink
I twist my fingers saturated with craving
For the nurture of her words and love without despite

Blue shadows slither uphill
The sun smothers behind the glade
Of trees--
                A barrier,
A fortification to the wounded kinks
                 In my chest

The silent vowels which breathes
Upon every current of pollen-carried breeze
The red,
                A lovely, dark malevolent glare
Which seeps into the soil at my feet
And top the soil like sprinkles of
                Ruby dew drops  

The grazing glance of blue--
Blue of the midnight,
              Blue of wild, turmoil waves
Crashed  
              Rolling
                         Thundering
Which creep to my feet
Gusted by the pillar of trees

I sit still with knees held to my chest
Pondering at the beating against walls
Walls I refused to breach before

The drumming--
                        The unprecedented humming
Which rattle into the marrow of my bones
And echo, traveling the hollow curves
Snaking--
                Spiraling--
So that voices may carry
And whisper in my ear

This pulsing streak  
Radiates into the folds of my limbs
And I cannot possibly catch my breath
                 Waiting to catch,
                             Waiting to listen,
Waiting for something to happen

After years of silent of calls
                  Years of fortified smiles
Just to break the fall

One day,
            Maybe this day
It is time to

Sitting on the glossy bed of grass
Smells enriched by the scorch of suns and brass
The joy--
           The ecstasy--
To feel the stones crack
Break the wall created to deprive

And as the midnight blue
Shimmy onto my toes
             And travel up my feet--
Over my head,
             Tying a knot in my hair,

The dew drops twinkle
Now like pebbles of obsidian
And the field of green
               Is now an expanse of black

Where have I gone?

for all the things labeled  
in the exterior mirages
of turpentine reeking layers
worn lavishly by red lipstick
and silver tailored suits,

light illuminating marble counter tops
dusted by the next-thousand-block immigrant
the mother of four beautiful children
she clashes with the detriment of money

which filters back to champagne of that red lipstick,
the silver tailored suit a million floors above
encased within their own skeleton
they peel their skin so not to feel a thing

stuffed in a daycare tabooed because of its door handle
touched by mothers working wage to meet end's meet
children skipping their shoes
on the stains of the concrete underneath their feet
and not realizing a thing

the mother bustles through
alone but surrounded by grease
seething into the cracks of her heels
while her children grows by the tick
into the template configured by society

the smear of red lipstick
the wrinkle in the silver tailored suit
the system of trickle down economy
have gone down the throats of so many lives
as a diluted joker waving a flag sewn with white  

this age of decadence
chooses to blind its kin
reality has been remodeled
into a Hollywood basement

standing in front of the mirror
the reflection warped by perception
the water running, endlessly
the shadows are breaking
that inner part of me

standing in front of the mirror
watching the light soften upon
the bones swelling underneath
the sea of flesh and skin

standing in front of the mirror
and not seeing what I want to see
not understanding
why it never goes away

the thoughts in my head
the doubts clouding
my line of thread
the insecurities stinging that
golden color in me  

a swarm of wasps
****** endlessly
and my emotions run high
and swell so that it pushes
up my throat

the world begins to cascade
as the tears spill from my eyes
I break through the door
away from the ******* mirror

sometimes I wish
I could never see the image
reflected on its surface
ever again

as we drown before the florescent glow
of the lampshade sticky ****
and the ache washes over
the back of our heads
the soreness in our eye socket

books are propped and buried
deep in our faces
in the adolescent curve of noses
the smell of intelligence is supposed to waft
the scent of future and brightness,
the scent of bigger ambition

yet instead stench of synthetic obligations
tingle through the tunnel of our nostrils
and lingers in the back of our skulls
cloudy, sharp, confusing and mean
it bites my friend, it bites

the sound of pencil scratching on paper
keyboards clicking away
and mouths whitened from strenuous furrow
feel the bag underneath the eye
sag and droop, weakened and drained

feel the emptiness
the emptiness in purpose
shoved to drive us on
the dollar bills will not shaft well, my friend
if you don't meet our obligations,
and so they say

yet let me tell you
let me speak for you
the creamy glance of yellow light
which shafts across the wall of brick
the isles of easels mounted with canvases
pulled taught and hiding its willowy smile

let me tell you
how my heart flutters at the creak of floorboard
how my fingers handle the spine of brushes
and how paper speaks for itself
the studio plastered with splatters of whirling colors
the dusty smell of vast, open space
the echo of imagination reverberating into
seeds of exploration

let me tell you
how my eyes wander across the soft succulent surfaces
the worn golden door handle
the prickly screech of a hinge
the chalky scratch of charcoal
and the rows of inking presses
waiting to compress the next
monograph etches and linoleum spur

let me tell you,
to those who frown
to those who squint their ugly faces
to those who denied
let me tell you,
I would belong
than rather be replaced