Staring at your smile,
Only a photo.

Remember our bodies,
Together.

Our short kisses,
Draining my sad.

Your warmth,
Drying my rain.

Remember that hill,
We sat upon it.

We watched the swimmers,
None drowned.

We watched each other,
I fell in love again.

You asked me,
“Correct my clothes?”

So I did,
I fixed your bathing suit.

And I knew,
Right then right there.

I want to spend my life with you.

Insomniac demons recirculated in the lenses of my eyes,
And the pads of my fingers,

Cheer up and smile,
spread those beautiful lips and whisper sweet nothings,

You are everything, Beau,
    Especially the thing in my heart,

Like Constantine to my haunting darkness,
You ignite the monsters with your flame,
So bright and strong,
    Light my flammable heart,
        And bless my mouth.

-July 3rd 2013

A shudder in my chest,
Violence in my hands,
Clouds past my eyes,
A pain in my brain.

A Temple ruined,
Once for sacred worship,
Now only for memberance,
And maybe a lost follower.

"God, I know what you did."
Kneeling, he keeps praying,
"I know you're not perfect,
But you're perfect for me."

Hopeless turned hopeful,
A light turned black, then back,
A God losing faith.
A worshiper who didn't.

The sailor was no longer on the sea.
He lived on land.
He did not see the water, nor fish on it.

But at night, drifting into sleep,
His body rocked with the movements of waves.
His skin could feel the cold, salty air of the ocean.
Beneath his eyelids, he could see the stormy skies of the sea.

He was still a sailor.
And he always will be.
The sea was his love.
And always will be.

Pip pip
My pip boy.
Don't you know how far
This hole goes.

Follow the white rabbit
And see.

My teacher once said
That protagonists of novels
Are teenagers in a sense.
Commonly.

These characters are new to life,
But not brand new.
They take chances that wisers
Might not.

They steal things,
Have ***,
Feel hope.
Adults do not.

We all want to read about teenagers
Because teenagers remind us
That life can have a bright outcome
If your teen years set it up properly.

We throw our lives away,
Then spend the rest of it
Reading novels
*Wishing that we didn't.

She called herself the Wolf.
She called herself the Phoenix.

The Wolf hunts.
The Phoenix lives.

Decide, bruja.
Do you **** or do you live.

Cause you've ended a lot of lives.
One too close for comfort.

The misty and damp mornings
                                                       alone are what hurt the most.
When I crave nothing more
                                                 than the warmth of your embrace and sight.
Why am I the most pleased
                                                 when we say goodbye.
It's only then
                        I feel anything.

"My sanity is being tested,
Locked up in this room.
My mind casually races across itself,
Drawing lines over the words she said.
My willpower is breaking slowly,
The vows I made for her dissolve.
And I’m not sure how much I can take,
Without collapsing completely.

Why must my mind be in my chest?

-M. July 24th 2013"

Summoning the sun, these songbirds sing soulful,  solid, sounds. Surprisingly, they softly sing me to sleep. Sweet symphonies sweep my dreams.

I wrap my arms around this stuffed otter,
And pretend that it is her,
That she holds my arms on her chest
And we breathe in harmony.

Two more voices in this morning choir.
Goodnight, night. Good morning, morning.

I was wrong.
Your eyes are not blue moons,
Not because
    they are not blue,
Nor is it because
    they are not moons.
But it is because I have never seen two moons,
And neither of both I have not seen are blue.


But I have seen the moon.
It is gorgeous.
You are gorgeous.

The moon’s surface is white, pure white,
Your surface is very much similar.

The moon’s face is surrounded with pitch black,
Your face is too, although there is some dyed red.

The moon’s surface has craters,
From when the universe wasn’t so kind.
I know you have those too,
But they are lines, not seas. Red and pink, not gray.

The moon can’t cry, nor can it show affection.
For that reason, amidst infinite others, you are perfect.
The moon is not,
But it can remind me of you.

And I am grateful for that.
The moon and you.

Feeling alone in the driveway I stand,
I feel like the world just came down,
                                   On me,
Echo my words, tell me my voice,
I'll rip you apart if you lie to me,
                                   Listen,
I can see it like a light at night,
I can see it like white against black,
                                  Go away,
                 Get away,
No way for you to get to me, anymore.

I have a habit,
Of summoning the devil
When I speak of him.

Though this devil has no horns,
Her skin is white,
And she has claimed no sin.

Never been to hell,
Floating in her own heaven,
She is purity.

Why do I call her such names
When I know she's only herself;
"Perfection."

Golden horn player,
    blow.
Tune out the world with your sound.
Tune out the sins, the needs and wants,
Tune out the cries for help in the dark,
    The compliments and appraisals.
Tune out the world which beats you down then apologizes.
Tune out the ‘Yes No’s. The ‘Maybe So’s. The ‘Not Right Now’s.
Tune out every kiss, every touch.
Tune out every heartbreak and every scream. Every time you bled and cried.
Tune it all out.


Golden horn player,
    *Blow.

I'm glad we felt the same way,
I still do,
Do you?

I want to wake up on the next 60 Christmas mornings and see your face,
Your collar bones, your chest, your hips, your gorgeous legs and those quaint feet of yours,
Because I love you.
And I will never, nor have I ever loved another as much as you.

You are made for me and I am made for you.
The two pieces to a two-piece jigsaw puzzle.

The picture we make is love.

You are my voodoo doll,
I feel pain, when you do ,
Your smile is mine,
Your tears are mine,
Be bound by ties unseen,
The golden thread for me,
Three witches can’t break love,
Emotions far above,
Our will unbreakable,
You, unreplaceable.

To hate what I've become is a habit,
I have it, this hatred.
Taking whats sacred from me and giving,
Donating
A living, breathing thing, still shaking.

A gift
Few take a chance to lift,
A kiss.
My Miss.

There was no preconception of what to do,
It was like the world said “Go ahead,”
The canvas of which to paint was endless,
And the music, it kept playing,
And my feet, they kept moving,
And Earth spun backwards once more,
Time slowed down, I could see blood pump.
I could hear my heartbeat,
I could taste the air,
Pandora’s box was opened wide,
and everything was visible.
My gaze stretched as far as your mind’s eye can see,
And all I could see was you, Rapture.

-May 25th 2013

You had me when you took that photo,
When you made that face akin to a duck,
When you retorted my comments like I do,
When you said “Kiss her,”

You had me at the moment I saw you,
Really truly you,
And every heartbeat since then has been
for that kaleidoscope in your eyes,
those lips so tender,
that smile so influential,
So please, feel the weight when I say always,
Because I mean it,
And every time I say I won’t leave,
I breathe it,
And bleed it.

To give everything for you,
Would be fine by me,
To sacrifice life and limb,
Would be worth it,
To ensure your safety.

Every night since I said ‘I love you,’
My dreams have been graced by your light,
And you really are my light,
My sun, my North Star, my whisp to lead me home.

Because home
    is with you.

-July 2nd 2013

You said "Pull, and don't stop pulling until I tell you to."
I knew this was where my training as a wind breather was going to pay off.
I expelled all nitrogen, carbon dioxide, and oxygen from my alveoli
And pulled.

I pulled and I looked at you,
Staring at me.
I deconstructed your face, your hair, your teeth, your eyes, your clothes, your life.
I deconstructed your Mexico and what you did to my friend.
I deconstructed the cigarettes you and your brother bummed off of me.
I tore you apart.
Organism, *****, tissue, cell, organelle, molecule, atom, electrons protons and neutrons.

I couldn't pull any longer.
I don't know if you knew I couldn't,
Or simply determined I was set.
"Okay, stop."

I couldn't breathe out. I couldn't breathe in.
I was suffocating.
She put poison in my lungs and my body is dying.
Water.
Water.
It stops.
I can breathe.

My lungs recoil and I can see straight.

She poisoned me but I love her.

The dust of an afternoon nap crusts my eye,
It sprinkles down on my life and drags,
Slow and grudging, my legs can barely move,
To sink into coma, catatonic as a mountain,
Would be my dream come true, watching.
Waiting.

-March 2013

Humbling summer’s heat, your presence is like a sun,
Humbling winter’s chill, your eyes cool and calm,
Humbling Florence’s David, your smooth skin shines,
Humbling the night’s own darkness, your hair contrasts light,
And,
Humbling even my heart’s own beat, you are beautiful.

-June 12th 2013

What I want most is to be seen
Right?
Tattoos, clothes, coffee shops.
Drifting my car in the snow
Writing in public.
Selfies.

I go on dates with pretty girls, but
They never really see me.
I haven't been seen in years.

I've had one percent good experiences
Ninetynine bad.
Scales are tipped in favor of suffering,
and yet those few times I've been seen still carry me.

Talking to <redacted> the other day was cathartic.
I miss her most of all
Even though things could never be how they were.
I don't really care about the past.
She made me happy and appeared in my dreams.

Annie is dying in my brain.
Bad politics.

I'm droning.
This is my diary, shared public for no apparent reason.
You get the **** with the gold.

Coffee with Amanda was enlightening. Brightening.
I feel chill with her.
Comfortable and excited.

I can’t sleep,
When I crave company.
I can’t eat,
When I crave warmth.
I can’t see,
When I crave you.

I feel we have the same depth.
I measured it.
It is exactly 2 feet, 12 centimeters and one apple.
Sometimes two apples.
Depending on the weather in New Zealand,
And the size of the kiwi crop yield
divided by the length of a fault in Japan.
And how that effects the cherry blossoms.

Make a hole in a book without desecrating it.
I bled on a book once,
Not what I meant.

I don't quite understand the 'you and I,'
It's good, of course, but I can help thinking
'Could it be more?'

Like an omen,
I'm free now,
Body yearning for it,
The vigorous tenacity of love,
Whispering its promises of blood, soothingly singing.
-
Well animated, atmospheric,
He never arrived home,
The strange figure that pursues,
Question how a man turned red.
He can't get home,
Make it rain, make it rain sad man.
-
Bring back memories hidden inside the shell,
Earlier attached,
Unmodified.
The rules are simple: win.

~March 25th 2013

I can’t imagine,
I can’t imagine humming engines so loud the windows shake,
I can’t imagine those same windows shattering violently,
I can’t imagine a bomb being dropped outside the windows,
    Onto the street which I live.
I can’t imagine how they must have felt,
    Seeing the world they knew so peaceful become their new hell,
I can’t imagine running from home,
    Running from gunfire and engines,
    Dogs and gas masks.
I can’t imagine my world dissolving and becoming nothing but a trail of tears.

To understate,
You are a seed,
The beginning of a tree.

You will grow and you will blossom,
And you will bear fruit and leaves.

So what am I.

The picker of fruit?
Spreader of pollen?
Maybe a tree, a bush?

You can,
And will
Exist without me.

This is an understatement.

Rather, you are a red giant,
A star ready to blow, expand.

Supernova.

Space-dust.
The elements for life.

Sometimes it’s okay to have ghosts,
A ghost of flesh, bone, and wings stalks me,
She kisses my scarred knees,
Pats my shoulder,
And sends me off.

Three months later I’ll come back,
She’ll come back,
Embraces follow,
Maybe some affair,
And while we stand there,
I’ll be thinking
“I don’t want to leave you this time.”
She’ll say the same.

What do you do when life is right?
The pieces fit,
The poems stop,
The peace comes.
The panic calms.

What do you do when the kiss is true?
What do you do.

Let's **** each other in the woods.
Like we said we would so long ago.

Let's drive stakes into each other's heart.
And watch red blood leak from the remnants.

Let's start a bonfire.
And sit together staring at the flame like we did that night in April.

Let's drive a convertible with the top down around the hills of California.
And ram into a diesel at top speed.

Let's both go to hell.
Cause I know we deserve it.

Viva tu vida sin tristeza*

Bold statement but I tire.

Goodnight for now soft sleepwalker.

Don't romanticize life.
Dirt is dirt.
Ugly is ugly.
Trees burn.
And sometimes things are ****.

Nobody's perfect.
Especially you.
Nothing is perfect.
Especially your perfect eyes.
And how you laid perfectly with your head in my lap.
And how you perfectly stared at that purple octogon on the wall.
And how I called you perfect.
Imperfect.

Don't romanticize those books you read.
I could burn every copy.
Don't exaggerate how much you love that author.
I could shoot him in the chest.
Don't talk about a greater good.
I know we don't have one.

You.
Don't have one.

Selfish.
Skinny.
Pale girl.
With imperfect perfect eyes.

Loneliness is the manila color which enchants paper as it ages.
It grows old and musky regardless of how many eyes look upon its texture.
It reaches the air of abandonment more quickly when exposed to the atmosphere and light.

An unexposed paper will stay pristine longer.
It doesn't know vacancy and longing.
It never had someone in the first place.

“You can’t fight forever, the unfightable,”

I can, I will, I am.
I will fight till my knuckles bleed, my muscles scream, my body pleads, then,

I will keep going.

I will fight the dirt dumped into my grave, the sheets of my deathbed, the glances from all four horsemen.

I will fight.
*Till I have her.

Like lightning on the sea of thunder,
That streak on your blue steel iris whispers
    loudly,
Those vermillion lips of yours whisper
    loudly,
And that giggly soul of yours whispers
    oh so
        loudly
            “I love you.”

-June 5th 2013

Opalescent eyes,
She crawled on top of me and kissed my neck.

My dark oak hair layed out on the blanket in all directions,
Like a sunflower of stands.

She was there above me, with only one layer of shirt on,
The air was cold and I could see the temperature in her *******.

Her legs spread across my lap,
She could feel me turn harder,
And she smiled.

I am an unhealthy person.
I have an unhealthy mind.
It searches for ways to cope with things,
Ways I know you wouldn't find.
It thinks of needles, lighters and blisters,
Of bite marks and bruises and hating my sister.
It thinks of benches and doorsteps and two **** soft beds,
It thinks of that kitchen, that grass hill and when the moon turned red.

I have an unhealthy person.
I am an unhealthy mind.
Together I make a combination
Of the likes you would never find.

My favorite is one I requested on a morning in the summer when I went to the library too early and they weren't open yet, so I waiting in the parking lot and she was just barely waking up and I asked her for a photo and she said she was ugly cause it was morning and she wasn't ready at all, but I kept asking and so she did. She sent me a photo of her in bed, sleepy as hell and it is the best photo I've ever seen. The joy that photo brings me is immeasurable. It comes from a time when life was perfect, it comes from a perfect source, who I loved perfectly.

I would give anything to be with her.

I am Joe's bloodshot eyes.
I am Joe's clenched fist.
I am Joe's irregular heartbeat.
I am Joe's yearning ****** desire.
I am Joe's failing chemical receptors.
I am Joe's overdose.
I am Joe's attempted ******.
I am Joe's official autopsy.
I am Joe's medical examiner saying that he died from a cerebral hemorrhage.
I am Joe's mass grave.
I am Joe's lack of family and friends.
I am Joe's mistakes.

Every knight deserves a sword,
    Every pen a paper,
Every mouth deserves an ear,
    Every painter some paint,
Every lover a love,
        But I
            deserve you.

So sick of metaphors,
So sick of trying.
So sick of fake love,
I’m sick of crying.

Love thyself, thy neighbor,
just don’t love a broken soul.
Love all the things you control,
but broken souls have holes.

Cause when you laugh,
And when you run,
You will fall into a hole.
"****" will go the fun,
And "****" will go the sun.
"****" will go control.

And you will be back to crying.

I’m not lying, I’ve been there and back.
                         *Thrice.

I lay awake so late at night and stare up at the ceiling,
I want to write I want to create some form to capture my feelings,
But my brain so dazed and tired cannot form the right thoughts,
And so it must analyze itself to create something of meaning.

I wish I could write sonnets aplenty, haikus flowing abound,
I wish I could grace this digital world with strokes and words unknown,
But instead I am trapped behind this wall of gray called writer's block,
And cannot capture these feelings of youth and trust and love,
but at least I am trying.

You must give me that.

Richard was in his lab.
White coat and plastic bag.
Carrying lenses for the telescope.
To view planets.
And other space rocks.

Gemini 4551.
An asteroid.
Projected for Earth collision.
Two years exactly.
Richard kept a calendar.
Only he knew.

Richard and his lenses.

-

Richard told the president.
And his advisors.
They asked for proof.
But. He said.
I can’t see it today.
I don’t know where it went.
Let me clean the lenses.

Richard cleaned the lenses.
Still nothing.
The officials left.
Lunatic wannabe hero.

-

Many things were wrong.
Richard hated life.
His wife left.
His dog died.
No family.
No friends.
Richard hung himself on a Sunday.
Maybe God would care.

-

The asteroid came.
Uncaring.

The Consensus in Silence.

It comes when no man speaks.
When no rain falls and no gun sounds.

It comes when you least expect it.
Awaiting the response, anticipation broken.

It comes when a question is asked.
And not one, not the strongest soul can answer.

It comes when a question is asked to all of us.
And not one voice is heard.
But thousands are felt.

I don't know why you take this time
I don't like it one bit,
I try to act like I don't care
Like I don't give a ****,

But I can't help myself
I care too much to fake,
I want your company with me
I don't like this new ache.

When I close my eyes
             I see you;
                          Every time I blink,
Your sweet smile
             Your soft voice;
                          Always makes me think,
What’d it be like with you here
             Always by my side;
                          Though what I crave most is a wink
             From your gleaming eyes,

From a distance
             I see you live life
                          To your greatest reach,
Always yourself
             No one else;
                          Not caring what they preach,
You never fail to find a way
             To frame all of your thoughts;
                          With a pen you break each
             Boundary that they ever taught.

-November 2012

Convinced that there is no life after death,
Convinced that no god watches over me,
Convinced my actions never really count.

I don't believe.

But for some blasted reason there is one person,
Tried true and tested rigorously,
And this one woman I trust. I believe.

I believe in love.

I long for that cold, blued steel against my skin as I anticipate the end.
I could easily take my life.
In the corner rests my rifle and cartridges.

I don't know why I don't do it.
I don't like living and I don't appreciate my days.
Joyless. No afterlife. Nothing.
So why don't I just
*Tie this knot.