so waves can crash around my feet
and foam can chase away the heat
of all the sands i've tread before
my toes will sink into the shore
i'll see the ocean far and wide
and as i laugh and chase the tide
i'll watch the sun set o're the waves
and find some little shoreside caves
to lay away and try to sleep
cause in my dreams you'll always keep
my hand in yours and my heart deep
within the sands of every beach
for no one else but you to reach

Is greatness endowed by the flick of a sword?
You look just the same to me.
Is taking up arms in the name of our lord
really enough to be free?
Just fashion a noose out of three pure white cords.
string it up into a tree.
Wrap it around that frail throat spewing lies.
Rid the world of a banshee.

gold
ring
finger
nail
wood
tree
house
door
window
open
field
flow­er
bright
sun
light
switch
wall
picture
painting
face
nose
smell
­trash
can
soda
sugar
candy
chocolate
mousse
goose
geese
duck
stew­
dumplings
chicken
eggs
hash
potatos
peas
carrots
celery
peanut butter
crackers
cheese
swiss
mountains
mist
rainforest
snakes
fro­gs
toads
flies
fruit
smoothie
straw
hat
construction
bridge
cars
­drivers
stearing wheel
brakes

that seems like a fitting place to stop lol

When I found you, I hated you.
Now I understand you.

I gave you reason to cast me out:
veil of spite, cloak of confused fear--

As I come to know what makes you tick
I respect you as deserved.
Your violence should have been presented by now,
not restrained and checked,
silent caged bird--

I envy you and your unshakable faith,
resolve of the stubborn gods,
drive of  the hungry wolf--
you deserve more, than the
awful posture of your peers.

Whatever you do,
you will not fail to find yourself,
among the triumphant titans.
Your effort is not lacking like ours:

your heart is the rising sun
which teaches and inspires in magnificence--
which teaches and inspires, in us echoing
this stimulation from awakened mind
to kindled soul.

If I seem surprised,
it's because I'm still alive.
My search for eternal sleep
ended with a nap.

You didn't see because I didn't let you,
but you were never one to want to help.
You sent me on my oh so merry way.
Why didn't you know I was that far gone?

Though I don't blame you for damning
me. The river flowed too strong inside,
it was up to me to dam myself. Too
bad I dove into the raging torrent of

Baltic tea, yack and Judas. I have no
need of temporary sleep. I only have
freezing sweats and waking dreams
that make me picture you and know

I need to seek another push and pull
until I'm blind to what you were to me.
If I freeze my insides the river will stop
flowing so violently and for once I may

be able to take a breath and dream
without a bottle and pictures of you.
I'll lie by the bank and smile at how
calm it has become since I threw in the ring.

I don't blame you for damning me, and
I don't blame you for keeping turned.
I only blame me for not daming myself
when I had the chances back then.

Let loose the river; I'll happily swim the rapids
without preserver. There isn't much left to
keep afloat. Not that I need to die this time,
but I can't say I'd resist without you.

Substantial enough to fill,
sweet enough to attract,
available enough to
keep coming back.

artists of flesh
wielding shades of exertion
splashing on canvas sheets
bright through closed eyes

I'm your thumbprint expressionist
mattress impressionist
bristles for taste buds  make
broad strokes the emphasis

aptly utensil
fills focal to edges
though tipping the easel
conception seems effortless

brilliantly tincture
accentuates fervor
while crescent depressions
raise apogee further

Time is ageless,
sadly most just can't look past what we're not.

I loved how my great-grandma said "I'm ninety-two years young,"
when all the young ones would fret that she was so near the end.
She spent all of her time so far ahead of her time,
loving what time she had instead of staring down the second hand.

I want to live in a world where counting up is the normative,
where age is the cumulative of positives, not a death march.
We need to lose the mentality of counting down our mortality
while making life a banality, 'cause every day here is a treasure.

When clocks are kept on shelves
instead of burned in our minds,
no time is spent counting down.

It's only spent living.

Now and then I like to look in the mirror and pretend there's no reflection.
Pretend that there is no existence and no possibility for the imperfection
that haunts that slab of float glass and aluminum daily.
Now and then I like to stand in front of the mirror and close my eyes.
That way I can ignore what is dulling the bright surface and synthesize
an image on my eyelids that doesn't hang so stale.
Now and then I like to draw on my mirror until no space is left but eye holes.
Then I can keep my eyes open but still be disillusioned as to how my soles
have become hopelessly glued to this tile mausoleum.
But most of the time I just turn out the lights.

Gently
Brush hair
Behind ear.

Reveal
Soft cheek,
Tender neck.

Glances
Growing
Intimate.

Subtle
Gestures
Inviting.

Informed
Of wants,
Desires.

Taken
Within
The moment.

******
Impairs
Shared breathing.

Spent and
Fulfilled
Intertwine.

Please just tell me once again
Whisper softly in my ear
Fill my head with pretty lies
So I forget that death draws near
Give the demons angel's masks
Make this a joyful masquerade
Drink and dance and laugh and sing
'Til violently Hell's toll is paid
When the boney knife is drawn
And halos start to fall away
Close my eyes with heavy hands
Remind me of a brighter day

The hardest thing about closing the door is
watching the silver lining drift to the floor,
ground to dust and swept under the rug,
floors are much quicker to let bygones be.

The hardest thing about closing the door is
the screech of hinges boring through skull
like worried whispers heard before that
made the iron oxidize.

The hardest thing is clicking the lock
and seeing both keys on the table top,

then clicking your heels
but you're already home,
just seeing how empty
it is on your own.

I once had a hand-basket filled with red
roses, and gave it as a springtime gift
to my love. She called them beautiful, but
an unvoiced disappointment seemed to reach
out more clearly. I did not understand
what more the basket should have contained, so
I asked her if she liked better yellow
or pink roses. She told me that color
was not the source of discomfort, rather
that I had called her my love when she had
yet to know who I was. I began to
stammer, shocked by her sudden ignorance,
but I didn't have a chance to explain
before a store clerk ran up to us. He
grabbed the roses and called an officer
over because they were not payed for. The
officer grabbed my arm and asked how I
had gotten out again. I inquired
as to what I had gotten out of, but
we were already inside the car. He
mumbled numbers into his radio
and we came to a wide white building that
I seemed to remember from a dream, but
the large blue words over the doorway were
both foreign to me. PSYCHIATRIC WARD.

obsidian black-rock soul
lackluster and cold
loosing shards over backyards
failing to heed mother's plea
"keep to yourself, the children are here"
maybe tomorrow i'll borrow compassion
and fashion a rope out of all i can ration
to hold together 'til calmer weather comes
sneaking from behind the peaks and treetops
and leaves me the **** alone
as if
forget the children
they'll know soon enough the taste of hate
and the twinge of pain that precedes disdain
if only i could care
if only i could share a prayer
if only i could waive despair
anymore

A hangman once told me,
"It's not the drop, it's the stop."
I was going to argue,
but he pulled the lever.

Sometimes I feel the ceiling falling,
but that's just peripherals hauling shadows and crows calling from fallows.
Reality isn't changing, only my perception falling down,
aging and growing wicked angry and spiteful just 'cause I let it,
spitting lines of depression and hostile succession,
holding onto negative lessons,
refuting positive progression at the expense of intense spiritual expansion,
shunning the silver lining,
running too scared for shining sun to brighten the mood,
lighten the load, smooth the road,
crack the code of the looming clouds of the crowded skyline out the small window of the attic,
where I go to feed the addict and think about how my time would be better spent
playing roulette with russians and using automatics,
crack crack,
future's silent.

That's not really me, couldn't be, quietly pondering failures of loathing and perpetual black
clothing hiding scars of bygones instead of healing, sealing the skin like new, forging a
better view, starting to get a clue.

It's time for a change.

she saw me see her through countless
classmates running wild Mrs. Robins
sees all of the yard  but the soccer field
corner where the oaks lay thick shadows
clasping hands we ran into hiding my plan
“you show me yours and I’ll smile and scram”
her plan “You show me yours and I’ll scream,
I’m a lady” too trapped in each other’s eyes
we stared until the class bell rang walking back
I stopped her just before the door and kissed
her blushing cheek in the sunlight

Now and then I like to look in the mirror and pretend there's no reflection.
Pretend that there is no existence and no possibility
for the imperfection that haunts that slab of float glass and aluminum daily.

        sickly skin, natural scowl
                 cracking lips,
      bloodshot eyes forming tears.


Now and then I like to stand in front of the mirror and close my eyes.
That way I can ignore what is dulling the bright surface
and synthesize an image on my eyelids that doesn't hang so stale.

     shining crown, sword and
               shield, stand
     in triumph on boney field.

Now and then I like to draw on my mirror until no space is left but eye holes.
Then I can keep staring intently and be disillusioned
as to how my soles have become hopelessly glued to this tile mausoleum.

     wings take me higher than
                   feet ever
      could, grazing the clouds.

But most of the time I just turn out the lights.

My feelings for you are hard to describe.
You make me want to destroy all you own.
I should go have some relaxants prescribed
before I snap and make everything known.
I wonder who would renounce you quick
and who would linger, searching for some light.
So many things you’ve done just make me sick
enough to forget my virtues and fight.
I guess you’re lucky I have such control,
and would never forget the oaths I swore.
Even though you fire my rage like pistols
I’ll wait for you to leave for distant shore.
From then on you won’t ever cause itch.
I’ll just let karma be that vengeful *****.

Or I would be, could be if the
sea was a memory, distant periphery,
granted sideways glances between
sought out land masses that can
offer some known substance, sore
eco thumb prints making them
seem special, almost terrestrially
relatable, debatably to people,
less contested to ideas, thoughts
and reasons beating back brazen
treasons of the seventy percent
that needs to take over, its
meaning is deeper than dirt.

does your **** get hard when you hear your own voice
or are you really auditorily jackin off a softie?

chokin on pulls between bottles and bowls
we all know you're full of ****
yellin unfair brackets are the worst of it

come back and talk to me with eyes a little less red
with some stories and quips you haven't beaten so dead

if you're fed up with the honesty then get up and head out
I'll never be stoppin ya
scream and shout as much as you like but somewhere else
cause I'm seconds from droppin ya

an understatement is ever hearing your voice again would be too soon
just the memory is worse than a broken out of tune bassoon


in short I don't hope you end up dead in a fire
but to say I'd be sad would just make me a liar

thumbs **** back black glocs
heat’s on head’s gone
pull it for the crack rock
heaving thick and heavy haze
white and green all mix with red
ticking tendrils round the numbers
seconds are fast after taking life
over grains of time suicide
untouched potential left so
in the wake of pooling blood

tick tock tick tock and time turns the tables
clocks give more gut rot than one-fifty-one
panic over life’s deadlines disables
the mind from seeing anything but guns
and chaos and filth under fate’s tight spun
web of lies keeping eyes fixed on fables
of flies that cannot overpower fate
though they try but have you really tried to
take flight mister fly or have you simply
seen your friends cry and put away your wings
acceptance is the simplest way to die

I’ve always believed in logic more than love,
logic lets you know when you’re a mule.
Using your head first means no one can hurt you.
The trembling clutch of fear falls short,
numbing cold-front warms and mobilizes.
Still, without contemplation I would die for you,
and would you expect less from your knight?
Someday I will die for you,
and you will watch with clapping hands,
applauding my selfless actions,
now still able to applaud others.
After all, you would not heartlessly
cast off your veil.
Even rocks and trees sing the obvious truth,
love shrouds all we know in darkness.

Autumn leaves exposed nerves
and frost brittled bones.

Toes gasp through clay.
Fatigue threatens grip,
yet flayed arms extend.

Fingers fall from reach.
Sapwoods freeze like blood
beneath blizzard winds.

melting away
constantly bubbling
boiling down
concience is fumbling
dripping so fast
mindlessly mumbling
waiting for someone to open the door

losing my sight
cant stop my stumbling
caught in a daze
dizzy from tumbling
all alone now
body is crumbling
no one to help me get up off the floor

swarming around me they circle like drones
violently ripping the flesh from my bones
screaming their victory in menacing tones
rejoicing the sound of my agonized groans
they quickly devour my organs and skin
but still on their faces a terrible grin
for only the smallest of troubles they'd been
remaining are secrets of deep buried sin

you take my breath
with those wide hazel eyes
your hand is in mine
my heart beats faster
our bodies touch
my heart beats faster
our lips join
time stops

I am the salt water on your cheek when you're alone
thinkin' about how strong you used to be for everyone.

I am the torn dollar in your pocket on the floor
wonderin' how you always seemed to work it out before.

I am the mirror looking back into your soul.
You already know my name.

paralized, my eyes are wide
searching for the other side
I see them there, I stop and stare
but what's the point? they'll never care
with backs to me, they just can't see
the pain that dwells inside of me
my hands are numb, my tongue is dumb
the rains were gone, but now they come

day in
day out
they stare at me
unyielding
unblinking
dress me up in different colors
and change when they get bored
or leave me in the dark
I see them laugh at me
cry
scream
cheer
or just sit with lifeless eyes like I'm retinal morphine
sometimes sleeping in front of me
giving up on my looks
or more unnerving things
fantasizing over what they see in me
they pretend I don't see them back
they just stare more deeply
taking their time
or in a rush
open my eyes then close them then out the door
why don't they know I think
and judge them
or do they care
to them I'm just a television

I tire of being God. Deafening droves demand the universe after declaring I do not exist. Hypocrites destroy themselves, only caring that they hurt those different, forgetting, or ignoring, that they are one. They put such little value on their lives, it should be obvious that I would not intervene. Let them die in my man made disgust. Extending their existence would be too cruel.

Love is an illuminating fire.
It lets you feel all the cracks in the water,
hear the shadows dancing around your eyes,
and endures.
Jesus loved us even after Calvary.
Love is a thick veil.
I’ve always believed in logic more than love,
logic lets you know when you’re a mule.
Reasoning makes you strong.
Using your head first means no one can hurt you.
The trembling clutch of fear falls short,
numbing cold-front warms and mobilizes.
Still without contemplation I would die for you,
and would you expect less from The Hill?
Someday I will die for you,
and you will watch with clapping hands.
I believe they will be applauding my selfless
actions because they now can still applaud others.
After all, you would not heartlessly abandon il tuo amante.
Even the rocks and trees sing the obvious truth.
Love shrouds all we know in darkness.

I watch the petals drift away.
I watch the petals drift away.
I watch the petals drift away.

I watch the petals drift away.
I watch the petals drift away.
I watch the petals drift away.

I watch the petals drift away.

dandelions

all over my green lawn

not green for long

inside your pale eyes

is only my sillouette

you see nothing else of me

They were right when they told you
money can't buy love,
but feigned infatuation is
inexpensive and fun.
Give them just one hundred
and they'll **** out your soul.
Don't worry, you won't need it back,
the best rides end up down below.

fibers touch, but noone's there
another dream, another stare
the ceiling moves as tv screens
and eardrums ring with tamborines

silently i lie and wait
sleep, come take me to my mate
but only shadows on the walls
and eerie echoes through the halls

darkness now envelopes me
at last! the face i long to see!
and i am taken off to her
but sandman you unwelcome curr

fibers touch, but noone's there
another dream, another stare
the ceiling moves as tv screens
and eardrums ring with tamborines

fair specters whirl through strains of mind
between comfort and sorrow they sing
lyrics better left silent in the depths

when I wake mortal planes expand
dreams drift begrudgingly from sight
fierce sunlight ruptures vexing veil

all things estate of day or night
become confounded by the heart
which seldom senses verity

delerious, drowning in a sea of self-loathing
smoke clouds my eyes, the fire feuled by broken potential
untouched resources burn and vanish
only ashes remain to taunt me
only the mirror remains to haunt me
only venemous laughter to daunt me
stifle my every thought
is it suprising then that i lie alone
in the filth and darkness of fear
never to rise, never to sleep
always to dream, always to be reminded
of what will never be...

Now and then I walk through a graveyard at midnight.
Partly for exercise, but mostly to pick out my plot.

You need to see tombstones after dark to get things right.
The sun doesn't dance over etched letters gracefully
like the moon, and the shadows are too thick.

Maybe there's a shared finality between darkness
and death that makes them fit perfectly together.

Maybe when we close our eyes we're just getting
comfortable with the eternal darkness we'll meet.

All I can do is find where I belong before the end,
walking the aisles where the dead inform the still living.
Where still darkness and spectral light marry.

I will find where I belong for this time of living,

and the rest.

when i was young
i was told that there would come a day
when i would understand

when i would understand
what it meant to care for someone more dearly than myself
what it meant to love

i thought i knew
because i saw a few movies and i had my family
i thought i knew everything

but i was a child
and as i grew i learned that i knew few things
other than being a child

other than the golden rule
and to always scrub behind my ears diligently
and to not talk to strangers

it wasn't 'til i saw her
that i started to understand what they had told me
gradual glances and smiles

conversations about nothing
searching instead of coming across each other
seeing through eyes not to them

touching fingertips to cheeks
touching hands and being happy with existence
taking solace in each others arms

joining lips and thoughts
joining smiles and knowing that the world is imperfect
knowing that we are perfect

you're just a child
but there will come a day when you understand
what it means to love

It seems the world is losing sight,
while stars and sky grow dark.
The will of man is finite.

Blood and bond are seen as blight,
truth as an unseemly mark.
It seems the world is losing sight.

Righteous men have lost their light,
and others frightened fly as larks.
The will of man is finite.

Heros are not born of right,
they change our fate with iron heart.
It seems the world is losing sight.

Evil takes another bite.
Too weak to tighten tourniquet,
the will of man is finite.

**** the masses who take flight
instead of fighting hard and sharp.
It seems the world is losing sight.
The will of man is finite.

so take a breath and dive
headfirst, into concrete
the tide will swell and break your fall
if you believe

don't look at me

look at your ****** self

i'm not sorry

terror gripping tight

shadows of distressing dreams

not a wink tonight

No one told me cloud nine has a boarding fee.

At least the the elevators run easy.

Some red on the pavement is the quickest fix there is.

obsidian black-rock soul
lackluster and cold
loosing shards over backyards
failing to heed mother's plea
"keep to yourself, the children are here"
maybe tomorrow i'll borrow compassion
and fashion a rope out of all i can ration
to hold together 'til calmer weather comes
sneaking from behind the peaks and treetops
and leaves me the **** alone
as if
forget the children
they'll know soon enough the taste of hate
and the twinge of pain that precedes disdain
if only i could care
if only i could share a prayer
if only i could waive despair
anymore
anymore
anymore
obsidian black-rock soul
i’ll keep it to myself cause i can’t lose pieces
anymore
there’s not enough to reshape
anymore
just shards all over backyards
each one a bard that only knows how to sing
the ode to rejection
preach only self hate and the neighbors won’t love you
anymore
you’ll find yourself desperately clinging to
anymore
palms sweatier than when mom
found out i bombed writing class
i thought i couldn't be expressive
anymore
like Bob Ross coping with the loss of his brushes
hushed whispers don’t hit canvas like paint does
anymore
happy trees happy trees just have to get angry
when the sun can’t be created
anymore
maybe life is a portrait that we constantly create
experiences chances taken stain the canvas
in specific ways we’ll see at the end of our days
but we can guess what kind of colors we’re creating
we can’t claim sadness and ignorance
anymore
so the soul must be a palette not a ******* stone
those aren't shards they’re splotches
making everyone’s portraits
a few notches darker
we all splash them back and forth
not even thinking about the mixture
we can’t keep using only black paint
anymore

ten for a dollar, twelve on Thursdays,
many more ways to realize they're all
actors brandishing turtle wax not
swords and axes, shields without a dent
but tales are larger than Typhon, ****,
tell me again how scary facing
the kraken was and how you made it
back from Tartarus without even
a finger missing, you didn't, I
know, I didn't notice your *******
gleaming on the way down or up, I
was busy fighting anyway, my
armor gashed and crushed and opening,
showing the spaces where flesh blood and
sinew used to be, my horse died years
ago but it'll take more to slow
me down, cause I found her flag, shining
or not this knight won't let it touch ground.

come to me now out of darkness
don't hide your eyes behind that halo of stormclouds
leave your rain and your tears behind
you won't need them in my arms

Today, my eyes are drawn to trees whose
leaves are now scouring their knotted roots,
just as podiatrist's fingers search for corns.
Forbidding skeleton branches glance back with knowing,
and our lives’ meaning it seems
are the lives’ meaning of leaves, growing strong and colorful,
getting this and that from the earth, but
impossible to stay for long.

Today, my fists clench. Waves of anxiety as blowing
leaves are gathering, compounding against my person,
just as pedestrians waiting to cross,
forbidding contact but crowding, shoving the curb.
And our ligaments that fail
are the limiters we feel,
getting thinner and thinner, seeing its
impossible to stay for long.

Today, my thoughts continue to dim while
leaves are loosed and blow in the wind,
just as peddlers flee the scene of the scam.
Forbidding dotage, autumn knocks at our door,
and our livid little cries
are the lights we use to cut the shade that’s
getting thicker and thicker, making it
impossible to stay for long.