my pink orchid sits wilting
next to the kitchen sink

I feared it was thirsty
and starting to die
so I overwatered

now the petals
are definitely
falling

then pushed into
grey matter *******
asphyxiating pump white
from red life

rising together
then falling
apart

I walk
through forest char
reminiscing, not so much
plumes of combusting hope,
as the feeling of
not alone
in core

you were my ooofo
come to wake me
home

300 thread-count tent
stars chart scars in shadow
overlapping bullet hole trends

in here
these wounds feel
something near normal

black rain plummets
drowning out
the outside

don't ever forget
to drop to your knees

and be

grateful
for opportunity
lowered by winged white
into laps lonesome

this chance
this life

yes, free will
is yours as well
but, these moments
the not-so-subtle nudges
and the whispers that surf the wind
after it stands still for - so - long

don't forget
to be grateful
for that

could-be bestowed upon us
marked, holy

we are pocket blooms
of clover fields
lucky

the fates toil not
this hard
unless

sacrosanct potential brims
not just for us - but, to share

there will be so much
it will overflow out of us
and we will laugh, humbly
at scarcity-fraught mentalities

so, thank you
for being exactly who
you are:

beautiful boy
with tarnished halo

(no worries though -
I will lick it till it spit-shines
and polish on my gold-flecked fleece)

and your basketcase
of trinkets blathering
contents crooked
and bizarre

(BTW, I still loves them)

if you were not, precisely
these psyche spatters
and glitch patterns

you would not
have given me
a second glance...

we will make picnics
out of our spastic baskets
finding we can dine on the grist
and feed the eyes
of our hearts

so, I say yes to us -
no matter what
we are:

friends, editors, syntactic twins,
long-distance synaptic co-captains,
creative cohorts rapping across easels,
and perhaps even, angelic mirrors
worshipping at bioluminescent altars,
getting minds, hearts, insides glown
w  i  d  e open by white splatter streaks
blowing phosphor all over this space

that definitely exists
in us

...

I'm cool with whatever
though

:)

when I'm five
next time

we'll skip
hand-in-hand
to the head of
each other's
lines

share some
psychedelic ice cream
before we know quite what
is happening on our tongues

no reason to fear
this mystical flight
OS fresh messless

and we will
like each other
before we know
how

or why

boring saucer eyes
through the other's skull
no drywall, no cement
no mortared bricks
just

staring straight in
and into

the place in the wires
where pulse currents
traverse higher than
power grid switches
flipped lit

messy hair
summer grass
skinned knees

laughing until
we can't breathe
at every nothing

and we run
into the woods
build a fort on the moon
brew lunar rock stew

you carve our names
on the side of our dome
with an asteroid
misspelling mine

and I decide
to write it
that way
forever

the other night,
I dreamed

of walls

bre   a k
in
  g

down

your grey ghost
gone live

and tsunami relief
washed my being -
held-heart breath,
inhaling deeply

then I
woke, promptly
finding myself alone
roused by TS Emily
at five in the morning

intestinal churn
as rains whipped my window
and I digested it was
not real

but the what-ifling
tapped my still tingling
with essence of other
and I thought, maybe...

so I,
reluctantly,
looked for you
in the sea where
I lost you
and you

were there

...

when dreams
start speaking ether,
underscoring reality,
I start remembering
how I know:

buried wires exist,
decorroding

attuning to united
stately R3EM station
with equilateral antennae