1.) I feel fine.
2.) don't like coming down from the high
3.) I'm ready for the next adventure - tired of being here

4.) All 8 sound good to me - 10, reallym oops

5.) I feel fine.
6.) Stomache hurts a little, but I'm eating a little

      numbers are starting to limit me,
      space even feels limiting
      in the thick of repeating,
       contrasting safety.

  Danger
is fun to me,
placing the awareness
uncomfortably
to expand,

7.) I'm thinking of passages
8.) Dreaming, in creation, romances; freedom

9. still feels fine

1.0.) hallucinatons

goodbye

record breaking amnesia,
don't remember how to love you,

screaming,
  you aim for my face,

I strike for the gut,
where the misery
has nestled in disguise,
symptoms
come in binges,
don't think about
it stretching,
    lasting,
    coming back again,
anger,
pain,
hatred,
     you are blood,
      and I still can't pretend,

  record breaking amnesia,
  don't remember how to love you,

you provide strings
with your support,
meanings
checked at the door,
meaning,
you attach and consume
before we go forth,

  and, I
  just asked for help,
    not a third hand to feed me,
    not a list of nasty names,
    not a knife in the back,
    not another family member trying to bleed me,

honesty, clarity, hope:

record breaking amnesia,
don't remember how to love you

it was time to sow the seed,
  stitch the old me
    to the present me,
       and breathe,

release
   all this anxiety,
     tension tightening
       the grip, strapped around
         my throat,
          around my hopes,
           the me I've missed,
burn white candles,
  lay out my stones,
     rewrite the misery,
       untie the history,
         reach closer
           to the underbelly's guise, mystery,
      why I've lived
       through the eyes of others,

flies, gnats,
  and dead meat,

    there is no me there,

      just blurred scribbles,
        hopes for sunshine,
          trying to be
            something realer

magic in,
throughout the spell
w-trapped ‘round
the beating stick,
ay-ya,
blending with the blurred corners,
in with the mix of mixed-up-**** business,

“who said they gone fight for freedom?”,

out in the courtyard,
out on the yard,
they fight with the message underneath,
in-betwixt reality and fatality,
alongside
all those poison berries
all those violated thoughts by the projector,
protector,

on who’s turf?

“Not mine, not mine” said the machine,
said the auto-plane, touch, voice screen,
said the custom fit sack of *******,

again,

watered down source
of noise,
but in these foggy places
I see no evil,
feel nor fear
the throbbing ‘umph
with my achilles in it’s mouth,

in this purple-green-dripping pink
glare,
       glaze
                           of ‘the level above’

        all the consciousness
before -

I remember one thing,

my love for you

i,

fell in
         two
every single
******* ripple
superior to the delusion,

still, still,

I'll run this time
And never come back

I'll run this time
and never look back,
        never wish to ,
            never need you
              
                                again.

butterflies love the blood,
tumbling about in bellies,
whisk it away, the way we pray,
a bird being carried by a breeze,
lifted essence, manifested,
heart shade, finally, at ease,
signal came through,
translated to
sharpened claws,
unclenched jaws -
unthought it all while sober -

  you came as ocean, as breeze,
   as birds, as leaves,
   as hues and blues,
   sunshines and moons,
and you left as you pleased,

    opened my mouth wide to cry for you,
    praise you,
   love you, raise you above
  what I've said in silence,
  unbreak the trust I betrayed in private,

  you came as hearts, as people I've known,
  and stories never told, as whispers,
  as hugs, and as kisses,
  as melodies, repeatedly on my brain, as so,
absent of you,

      I came to know you:

butterflies love the blood,
dying slowly from the greed,
whisk it away, the way I pray,
would ask for your forgiveness,
but I know there is no need,

I feel you in the leaps
of knowing when to regret,
and when to let it be,
summon the tides stronger
aside dying suns, each day,
each night I pray for you to call upon me,
like you did when I was your favourite color,
pray for you to love the me now, and be sure of no other,

so if I adjust the pitch,
tune the sounds to form around
your wisdom, or pretty eyes,
maybe the melody will reach you again,

if not for love,
lost at sea,
then for truth,
and maybe friends we'll be,

no longer eclipsed by rumors

Ink drying
as my well self
realizes how much
I mean this
  need this -

the weaving,
                  the bleeding;

                                     the needing
            dampening future happiness
         each step tripped backwards;

    like the sounds you hear
                               or feel
                  when there's only silence,
                             or truth
                               to settle in
                             with the mush
                                    or pile
                                       or illusion,
                                          dream
                                        of something that
                                            came too soon -

  things I don't need
  anymore;

            My tear jerking
                            Prince,
            reaching, mmm,
                      a push too far
          
          without reason
             or real love
              enough to
             set me free -

   release me
     from these dark clouds
      of your little,
           play-dream;
  
          plucked your last pedal;

   tasmanian devil
    fiddling with my grace;

    How cruel have I been
                     in your deepness?

    I want you, baby,
                 but I need you not

             to keep this steady pace;

     deeperdeeperdeeper
        in not being afraid
         to sleep in this empty house
             we built together -
                 but dare I
               pull myself out?

                                               God be with you, too.
          
                                   Cold and dry.

pretty-eyed girl,
your underbelly's pink,
green, deep time,

don't know what you see in me,
I overcook things,
burn my mouth, trying to speak,

as
we daggle our already wet feet
over the pits of dog-bitten territory,

you always scratch first,

  but I dig deepest,

                 I guess, secretly,
                       I'm ready to see you go,

             far away, where the screams can't bind you,
                            and all the guilt quietly fades away,
                                 where you're comfortable, forever,
                             and your days remain the same, always
                                     where words don't come out
                                                      all ******,
                                              and your pretty thoughts
                                                    untangle at the feet,

                              where love can loop endlessly,
                                 and the old me is waiting

wondering if sound escapes heart
if voice will become foreign again, a new soul again,
stretch these wings for the first time,
deeply inhale madness, for the first time,
recognize Blue, for the first time, sadness, too, or
reluctance, soft, tickling agony,
radiating,
as being woven in a nightmare, loose thoughts, I,
cannot breathe, loose thoughts, growing pains,

swell in the belly, void fear,
swell in the heart, too, he is not here,
so faint, we become, bruising our elbows,
gathering tongues with strangers,
heart's silence echoes,
truth glistens, in the rain, tear showers,
seedlings find themselves crawling
back down in the rabbit hole, again, devour

Awake with my eyes closed,
nose up,

gone
wasted, pacing
through all of these worn out notions,
worn out motions
******* with the present,
twisted in with all the delusions
that, somehow, the truth isn’t enough?
What, then, are these things?

These feelings,
these wakening fantasies
of yes, but maybe no,

should I stay
or should I go?

Should’ve listened to those didactic tales,

those voluptuous sores, like vines in the heart,

those tantrums and those fits of ‘can’t get enough’,

should’ve played a lil nicer,
should’ve loved a lil harder,

this truth was never pragmatic, baby,

never concentrated, fixated, never stifled, appreciated,
never what you wanted to feel,
but, babe, it was always real
in your eyes and mine,
‘guess you never thought this time
I would actually walk away,
diluted, squeezed out, filtered to a drip,
your hackneyed fibs
burn me more,

dissected into tears,
you planted all of these fears

in my conditioning

with your temperamental code,

hypocrite –hypocrite –hypocrite,

corruption in this affair,

still ain’t playing fair,

but why am I surprised?


tripped into a hole of utter depravity,

shaking in those wet boots of bull-*******-****,

I’m so ******* with this I could spit!
Or, I could quit you entirely –

comradery broken,
revoking that affection in me

that has been stuck on you,

of the tongue
               and body
           as it beats
              the demons
                 of my own silence to a gentle hum –
  a drunk laced
   representation
    of what the watching eyes
                                        desire,
            ­                            crave,
                              ­          emulate
                                          in their sacred spaces –
      center stage
     with every performer
         abroad this conditioned
               disillusion –
     how it masks
      all the confusion
       for those that
         jumped in early –
   the lights
    look so friendly
   when you need them,
      but it's you
        who feeds
            them –
          and you die
    without knowing it,
                 you cry
    without showing it –
    mourn, in distractions,
      what could have been;
      what could have been
          if you didn't have
             to keep on
                       searching –

    the pen marks
   rely on the same security,
       lost in its
        contrived purity –

           the light is blinding,
            but it keeps us from
  rewinding,
  reminding
    our hearts of the pain
    or the game,
all the same –

wanting too much
for no good reason -

muffled songs
of a bruised lion’s meow,
playin’ blame game with Narcissus,
attempts to break patterns
cycling around you,
treading over my anger
in all the unfolding places
it hides -
recycled love to get us through
the weather
that has trapped our hearts in,
in the bend
where if you close your eyes
I can run and hide,
tried and tried,
still so contrived, though,
and I can’t love like that -
a stranger in my bed
and in my house,
in my head,

a leg for a *******,
a tongue and kiss for a palm,
a touch or grip for a broken heart,

you never played fair, anyway

Thirteen hours on a train, just to see your face -
looked for it in your hiding place;
Made my way through all the memories,
granted your fingers
permission to keener things

took the train,
    in Jesus’ name,
all the way to you;

‘was always you –

the blue,
          the “I’m through!”,
              the “who knew?”,
   and         the “…, too”;

you, as if I couldn’t see further,
you,
guilty as charged
for this 2nd ****** -
      this mind that cannot be un-******,
    one wall, so heavy, I’m stuck;

superseded,
    as you proceeded
to lie with both eyes,
             or
   pretend the love died,
long enough to see me cry;

  truth made to waste,
patience into haste,
       another love story gone wrong,
     jotted down, but not for long;

obliteration,
     translation - you

“I love you like the moon.”

         “I’d do anything to see that smile.”

                      “I’m standing on a roof
               and the tingle of the edge
                          reminds me of you..”

                 “Anything, anything for those eyes.”

            “Do you want the gifts I have for you?
        *Nope, I just want you.
                 Kay, I’ll wear a bow.
         I’ll wear a bow too..”

                              too,
               too,
too,

  girdled,
       packed up,
   ensnared, stacked, ****** up -
  
      All fickle,
   molded, folded
           to the point where the paper
         starts to tear,
                    
   “One day, we’ll get married.”

Cold,
    recycled feelings
   and you still don’t care?
Care enough to play nice
   with the frail beast
          at your feet,
  the silent song
whisking
   the oil
                 and
         water
  into grey -
      
    “A fantasy –that’s what you are to me..”

Vacuous games
    you still like to play -

   as if
      I were a fool, too,
                     like him –

       or a fool, too,
                               like you -

  not to see how bad you are,
             how sad you are,

           lonesome,

         aching baritone
     deceiving a different home
       with the loudness still in your lap,

       ended with that slap,
        started, again, with that stare,
      that glare into a promise,
          a dream worth more while
        than a bed full of loveless tricks
             and a jealous heart
                rung out,
        back in the back,
           where the bees feast
                on all the hot meat
            swallowed,
      inhaled by your salty appetite

                              for sadness,
                                 contrived madness,

              again,
              again,
             ­ agrain?,
              again,
              again?,
          ­    again,
              a_pain -

                  ****,

ungird me from this swaddling love cocoon,
                     unshackle me,
                         untie me from this camouflaging lie,
                                       unwind me,
                                    unbind me,

              don’t blanket me with all
               you think I want to hear…

        if you don’t want me -
             let me love another      


        “..almost like it gives you joy crushing me so hard -
                   all I’ve done is love you.”

****** if I'm through,
****** if I do
stick around to
   let you feed on me,
   see all the gold turn to green,
           o r
this apparent love
turn to mean
something
a little stronger,
perhaps, last a little longer
than those cold, stygian nights
in some stranger's bed,
all those times you could've not
played with my head,
but yet, instead,
you did,
then you'd fib
and say you didn't mean,
oh, but I've seen it -
the dark in you, too,

play(th)ing; whatcha thinkin'?

I've unpacked myself
for you
and the wolves in your logic,
I've unset myself
for the second
I could see it again -
and those wolves concurring with your logic,

I found you hiding in the mirror,
creature of the lion's share,
drowned you in all my care,
                             my love,
a heart without sufficient sleep,
you tell me -
what was I supposed to think?
you made it so easy,
but how it got within me
I'm afraid to know,
was 'fraid to go
into the light without you,
but as I please -
I'll just
keep
going

‘saw him standing at the brink,

   crusty flick,
scabbing ash
    housed between two neighboring fingers,

      shedding
   top coat,
       peeling mask

                  eye-to-eye

           with the dirt under-

  -neath
those sleepy blue eyes
    of a born-again addict,
      matter-of-fact it
                     to be keen,

a stupid, cupid, love feign
blinded by the coarse..

Claws,
  wounds,
deep,
   screams,
points
    and
   shadows
     or
     silhouettes
      of past ones;
  blood -
   crusting over your lies,
truth?
delusion,
disillusion,
polluted
  drops
   projected
into the wrong
  cup of sorrow -
further,
pinching
  a little stronger;
how it burns
and spreads -
  those little embers
   scattering like
  a cancerous angst;
claws,
  wounds,
deep,
   screams -

   one on top of the other;

  Raven will
  find no shelter
  for you inside,

               we keep the dogs
                     out back
                 now-ah-days

   much love,
      my sweet

Silver city lights
burn, reaching right
far bass line of pureness,
been living under water
this whole time,
been living under your spell
like I ain’t never had no choice,

you and I
don’t make nice,
you and I
can’t play nice,

steady tryin’ to show me
a painted thought
shat out from somebody
else’s cotton mouth,
we ain’t makin’ the love
you say you feel, baby,
so why we gotta pretend
like this has to be
something
in the least,


Something, to say the
least -
emergency,
rushing, cold, icy,
sticking and peeling
from
my center layers,
the scorching halo
surround the base,

You look in my face
as if you knew
how it hurt,
how it rips,

how it lingers,

principle -

a little piece
  of something much bigger,
     belonging to both
                         halves
                           crumbling in rather,
              suddenly, opposing desires
                for an unknown everlasting;

     never-casting
       lines of the unconscious-

   whimpers after a deliberate strike
    bleed so
               much
                  more than
       all the possibility
         of sadness
          in these softened cracks,

     in the subtextual
       slips monopolizing
         our silence;

   possibility  I wouldn't know -

           tell me, babe,
        please tell me when this
                sigh is over

            that you've fallen
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              in
                              us

beat after beat,
      enchanting my running feet;
    silver echo,
        left over from the silver city,
           rattling
     my heart's desire
   closer and closer to yours -
    
       vibrating
          underneath all that we have yet to say,
          under the tongue of Mercy,
            and I can't get out
   won't, don't wanna
   scratch another surface;
   just can't, don't wanna
   love a different stroke-

strip me of that freedom, babe,
   I want you to
strip me of that fear,
that memory of what I had
and what I lost -

   my heavy heart
     ripped through the lace,
       changed, flipped it, put us inside the space
- but I'm on my (bleeding) knees,
                            (pleading)
           asking for seconds,
           asking for you to look at me once more,


    The game is over,
       you've already saved me.

Plain brain game,
      droopy eyes,
        shaking thighs -

    Why am I back here, again?

      Great laughs -
             ha, ha,
                ha -
          peeing cycles increasing
            to release
            the awkward current
               forming armies
               of goose bumps
           around my thoughts -

     My Friday night
        has just begun -
              but it feels
                like last week's ****;

       Same tickling fear
          tied in a knot,
      as I seal my
                       heart
       with more dishonesty;
        
these distracted strangers
     don't know any better,
                             any better than me, anyway -

      "Love is just a state of mind,
          the heart knows better,"

                             hmph -

     intuition feeling
          a tad under the weather -

       Not good enough,
          I should've known better..

a stitch,
   tingle, tingling
               twinge -
   oh my, my choler,
                my choler
      don’t let me be the last to know,
   I beg;

     livid in its nature,
      discolored by the bruising -
       in the beasts of things;

                wrath.
such a heavy tone for this indignation
or
your denseness; dolt

neverthelesser,

I’ll vent my spleen
‘til you’ve vanished back
into that bathroom I found you in

unravel all over
your bent back,
   salute,
to the brunt force of nature,
  fire so ravishing
    atop, maybe a little more adjacent,
similar to yours, my long, but not forever long, lost dear -

cut it out,
  spit it to the foggy mirror image
of your vulnerable self
splattered all over this ******* room,
prancin’, yellow in grip,
         around these basic things
you call yourselves master’s to,
                                            of,
           ­          (u n d e r),

“say it again, baby,
                   say it again,”

      ‘didn’t catch that (tone) the first go ‘round -

   must be rough on the skin,
      skin aching to mend
     from the splitting of your tainted souls -
   in to mend
  that softest spot
   where no stranger’s **** can console,
   no love that does not want love back
            can control,
   no cry, just shy
              away
               from that being the rescue..

   even still,
     wouldn’t it, even if I could it

Spitting to the rhyme,
it’s like I’ve been stuck in rhyme,
in between the tick
and tock of father crime,
all the right gestures,
         right stares,
      seem to all be right there,
all the right words,
but I just don’t seem to care -

is it there?
in there, over there
   -where
all the **** is shared upon
    the foreign lips
    of a deadly “****”,
deadly ram in the hot spot,
     top notch of shame,
   deep, deep,
back,
     in the game,

                 in the light…

I want to get back to my roots,
                             to mindful paradises
                             of games, graves, and tug -
         heartfelt cries
         for a superior love
                         to mine,
                                        back to the lap to lap
                                        jokes of knowing
                                        too much too soon,
                                back to, to, to,
                                      so through with

  these mindless
  breaths beholding
  the loose yolk,
  engulfing, suffocating
  all possibility for more..
  
                 sank..
            sank..
                    sank..
        sank so deep
         in all the moist
                quicksand,
  
crusty, lying lips against another’s,
through all the thick emptiness,
             all the feared silence within,
racing through all the speed bumps
in this tainted Neverland,
                                         ****,
    in harmony, again,
       with the cheating cycle,
      entangled in someone else’s nothingness,
         as it has become yours entirely,
  in those empty eyes
   I’ve seen before - I know that you cannot recognize even yourself,
       the true gaze
          of white -
     hollowed
     out
           by
                     darkness,

    I pray for your deliverance,

I want to get back to my roots,
                             to mindful paradises
                             of games, graves, and tug -
         heartfelt cries
         for a superior love
                         to mine,
                                        back to the lap to lap
                                        jokes of knowing
                                        too much too soon,
                                back to, to, to,
                                      so through with

  these mindless
  breaths beholding
  the loose yolk,
  engulfing, suffocating
  all possibility for more..
  
                 sank..
            sank..
                    sank..
        sank so deep
         in all the moist
                quicksand,
  
crusty, lying lips against another’s,
through all the thick emptiness,
             all the feared silence within,
racing through all the speed bumps
in this tainted Neverland,

                                         ****,

    in harmony, again,
       with the cheating cycle,
      entangled in someone else’s nothingness,
         as it has become yours entirely,
  in those empty eyes
   I’ve seen before - I know that you cannot recognize even yourself,
       the true gaze
          of white -
     hollowed
     out
           by
                     darkness,

    I pray for your deliverance,