Baby time is calling to its window
The stars blink in, and fade to ash.
And I am a flower, a rose, a passing hour
Amid a cup of space—horizons twine.
My consciousness is a photon firing,
And we are the matter of gods.

Infinity is painting a self-portrait—
Its faces are everywhere,
Changing and remembering.

When the portrait is complete,
There will be another, by a new hand.

I search for you in the late nights
at the bottom of the bottle.
I look for you in the embers striving to burn
at the end of a dying cigarette.
I ache for you in the arms of a stranger,
a man with different proportions,
a deeper voice, a rougher face.

I’m searching for you in all the places
you swore you’d never be
just like you swore you’d never leave.
But the pale hands caressing your satin skin,
pale hands that weren’t mine
burn in my mind and
I wonder how I’ll ever find you in the places
you swore you’d never be
just like you lost me,
when you swore you’d never leave.

I'll press my face against the wall
and pretend it's your cheek
on mine
even though it's cold
I need to watch less
****-o-graphy
It's making me
lonely

White dust covered bark
cracked
in black slashes
to crowns of
gold
and yellow

I have all that's required for a loner’s life
One set and nothing more
A heart that’s given and received not
One soul, true to its way
On path’s that show no bearing
Passions without servitude
And still with desperate moments
I cling to my loneliness in the company of strangers
With great joy, if you can call it that.
I marvel at the quietness of the autumn night
Whose passing I will mourn
As mist gives way to snow and snow gives way to grief
Will there be no one to share my wonder?
This is what they call the hermit soul

Porcelain skin,
white with rosy cheeks.
Lips sewn shut,
concealing her shrieks.
Knotted hair,
with pink pretty bows.
Smiling mouth,
lips red as a rose.
Eyes open,
staring at blank space.
Pretty dresses,
covered all in lace.
Broken teacups,
will soon fall apart.
Never revealing,
her lack of a heart.
Perfect girl,
with an alluring complexion.
Fails to see,
her and her reflection.
Flawless,
you can’t see her cracks.
Scarred,
only seeing whites and blacks.
Collecting dust,
sitting on a shelf.
Contemplating,
life itself.

Not ready to talk
So I keep
Walking into walls
That are too tough to fall
So they just wobble then stall
And they seem so tall
The suns just a memory
This winter is a death sentence
And everyone's dead to me
Just because I remember what has been said to me
Doesn't mean I have to scratch the words in my skin
I don't feel the wind
Because my walls block me in
And while the windows rattle
The walls won't bend

This isn't home.

Just because of an area code
Home is in the eyes that stare at these structures and see no demise besides acting surprised when they eat me alive
When I knew all along
Along for the ride
A **** or a pipe a priority
Above all
The majority **** y'all over anyway
So gimme good *** bud in plenty jays
And let my *** incinerate
No one to help inside this trap of myself
These walls become skin
When contemplating them

This isn't home.

Just because of an area code
Home is in the eyes that stare at these structures and see no demise
Just a task to adapt to
Blast through
And never come back to
Home is behind my eyes
Ones that don't need to know the what's or the why's
Or the length or the size
Just to get by
Ones that know I don't need to get high to see beyond these walls to know

*This isn't home.