Lead paned windows
beam shafts of coloured light
dust motes floating
spiral upwards
released from
captive carpets
flee

Who are you?
a perfect stranger.
BOOM BA BOOM, pounds my heart as i listen to you speak.
I wish i could explain it, but there are no words.
i could fall in love with you yet, i barely know you and it's enough.
ive never met you but you make my knee's go weak.
you have an affect on me which noone ever has before and i thank you for giving it to me for the first time because there is nothing quite like it.
you are my definition of perfect and i can't let you slip away.
i dream of your lips.
i want them on mine so bad it hurts.
my heart growls with hunger for you.
you linger on this mind of mine and leave me wanting more.
your a perfect stranger and i'm dying to touch you.
so many thoughts going through my mind all in which revolve around you.
hurting you would mean hurting myself and that, i'll never do.
cause your a perfect stranger and i can't let you slip away.

Belle Dame, II

you wonder if you would have looked good
with finger waves in 1922.
it’s pointless to think about,
but it still floats languidly toward you,
one of the frequent gondolas that scratch,
and ****, and drift wandering semite from shore to shore of your skull.

the sun never sets on it, after all.

the other ships,
ancient and moaning,
lean and bow according to waves of a life-heavy sea,
its tides divorced from any semblance of reason,
rhythm  doesn’t lie next to it any longer,
its shape is just an aftertaste now.

your throat is in flames, by the way.
no one took voice this time.
she left of her own accord,
and she’s planned this for weeks,
every gesture, forward motion, and utterance
that would enable her escape from inside you,

this time, it’s pointless scouring the corners of the empire to find her.
you have to remember she’ll come back on her own.
that the harshly lit fluorescent reality will validate her,
or it won’t,
and it’ll reject her like your body is currently doing to the reattached finger you almost lost when you were three.

i need you to pray she makes her boat on time,
and don’t think so much of where she’s going.

I think it's my eyes.
The glowing hazle stare
blankly piercing through
whatever bubbles you've shielded
yourself with.
Arms crossed means you're defensive,
raised tone towards the end of a sentence
means you're lying
but when your lips scrunch together
you're holding back something.

Maybe it's
my thought process.
One second
I'm talking about polar bears
celebrating birthdays with ******* and hexagrams
when I shift
to a rant about my self empowerment
through meditation and how astral travel
might be real.  

Perhaps I'm too comfortable
with myself for you to handle.
I don't give a **** how tangled my hair is
or what weird religious doctrines you follow.
Let's have a conversation,
not an unruly **** measuring contest.

I truly love you,
and all my mild frustration
and slight agitation is radiating
from a place in my heart
that tells me I want you to succeed the most.

i haven't fogotten
that night
we waded
naked
knee deep into
that brown
river

the summer
had my back
and kissed
my shoulders but
the rest of mine
was yours

the moon was
high
and full of himself
and i could see
in your eyes
you were too

Well we find ourselves free, and finds ourselves fun
Always into some mischief, and always on the the run

Can't settle in once place, can't settle for one peach
No we prefer a new fruit, so to **** face like a leech

Is it our fault?  That we prefer better times?
To switch who were with, as if were trying fine wines.

It's not our fault, that we wanna fly solo
It's just more simple, that sort of MoJo

Will it ever change? Will it ever stop?
Our lives rearrange, and love come out on top?

Whichever it is, we sure like to mingle
No were not *****,  we just love bein single;)