He created a night for him
with the dark metaphors
his poetry tossed on to the air;
from its ember buried under ashes
oozed little by little,
two drops of scared light.

Alone, in the cocoon of the memory
of her words, he distilled and drained
the magic potion of poetic expression.

In it was ingested, the intensity
of sudden lightening
that burns down everything
in to ashes

like the tides that occur high and low
what if ,at will, single source secretes
both poison and nectar?

with your eyes mutely speaking of desire
you are deft in signalling both---
the ascent of love, that creates in me
the instant capillary rise of passion
and
love's descend, as if the monsoon has dissipated
and just a sprinkling announcing rejection!

who are you, reveal your true face
poetic trance at the moment of my inspiration
or dark poetry, gushing out on it's own
from a secret spring, deeply hidden?

always wanted a part
in a film
so I asked a director if he'd give me a break
and the director told me: "Break a leg"
and I thought he'd meant me to get
experience for a disaster movie
(sort of Stanislavsky's method acting)
so I did

but I never got a part;
the director just laughed and waved me away -
but at least I was in the cast for weeks

lover of mine,
just wanted to
let you know
somedays
you are'nt my other half ,
you are my whole.

those days you are the
keeper of my soul...


but then my love,
there are those
DUMB MAN days,
when you struggle
to be a quarter...

just being honest....

with ya...

this a DUMB MAN day...
get it together....please

My son runs, wrapping arms around
my nebulous waist.

"l love you, Mom!"  He squeezes tighter,
as if letting go would be his black hole.

"I love you, too, " I squeeze back, absent mindedly.  (Where is the cream? I need coffee.)

"I love you more!" he breathes, without pause.
He gazes into my eyes,
searching my planets.

"Oh no, that can't be true," I retort.
I forget the coffee, his eyes are starlight.

"I love you to infinity!" he exclaims,
staring harder.

He wants to sail the Milky Way with me.

"Me too," I reply, and remember oxygen tanks.

I'm speaking in light years, and I hope the sound waves will catch up to him.

His face cracks into a million years of forever, before he lets go,
dancing across the universe of our livingroom,
his solar system intact.

At least for now.

There is no better freedom then  in this highway and the thrill of a willing soul beside you before your nights end.
Maybe we thirst for the attraction of something strange maybe its just the thirst to feel something at all.

A razors sting and a steady breeze the highways marker leaves my epitaph no visitors need darken this place for I have long since outgrew  my coffin so long ago.

Taste it with me my dear for nothing goes better with agony than a good dash of simple lust.

Strip clubs and the most elegant neon light I hold my glass to view it's reflection sometimes we all lose track me I find more solace in a dead end street than laying beside another as empty as me.

We viewed the wreck a wicked pleasure we knew it was destined we simply didn't care .

Maybe I'm the one who finds comfort of the depths a train that cuts the nights silence so haunting yet peaceful all the same.

Burnt out promises and one night stands faces change yet the reflection although aged still shadows my past my friend how have you been,
And are you still tortured as I?

When there gone is almost as empty as when there here .
Enjoy your company and speak without the ******* that so many others choose to spawn in such well intended lies .

I pass my hours alone a bottle and my thoughts a highway always before me .

Paradise is was in the moments like old photos they haunt my thoughts as they cling to faded walls of sentimental fools none such as misplaced as I.

Dim lit confessions so tragic the flaws .
Nothing shines as beautiful as a  match within a vacant room.

We are reflections of the embers and nothing more .
So ****** up and so perfectly flawed by design.

And then there was a silence that spoke deeper than any words ever could.