I walked in a mask
A dead baby bird keeping me company.

It had see-through skin
and told me how
Rich people have wider sidewalks
And richer dont have any

We stopped to ***** in their gardens

I listened as I walked
Crushing something under my heel,
I didn't look.

I felt.

The heat of the flames
The smoke swells through the mask
I can't see the fire yet,
But it's coming.

When your urge to forgive
Overpowers and violates my
Blessed and Righteous wrath
Remember
Rainbows are only allowed
After the torrent has finished ravaging
And mourning

Rainbows are only allowed
After the torrent has finished ravaging
And mourning

I’ve always been told that I have a nice nose,
So Andrew’s kind words graced my back
As the rays of light from the sun
Those rays so warming, free me each morning from the

Quivering fingers inside your throat choking
Moist clammy tongue caressing your neck
Tearing your toes apart
That Priest darkness always gifts

Sweetly, softly, kindly
From behind,
To me

In my own
Quickening of heart shaking of limbs screaming silenced search of eyes

Ive overlooked one thing

The silly sleepy fluffy tail of my best friend
And my folly in footwork leaves him whimpering
And me begging forgiveness prostrated

Well I wrote to thank you,
And the pen times a thousand,
For although gilded words,
Glide on thoughts,
Of yours,
Of mine,
Of stars,
Of trees,
It would not be in physical,
Without the read’or’write’or’thee,
And sure, we moments are vein,
And admire ourselves each other without,
You,
Are certainly good for the ego too.

I've got no buttons on my pants
And my shirt is on backwards

I still think
I can climb into the sky
To find God hiding up there
In all Her mystery
And tug on Her sleeve
And whisper my fear and my hopes and what I'm thinking
And She'll listen and they wont be bad and
Then She'd remind me of the times I've shamed myself
Help me laugh at my own serious reflection
At trying to not make mistakes
At saying I did something
So bad
So monumental
It was and is worth my shame

Before pinching the back of my shirt
Scruff of my neck
Lowering me back down down down down down down
Until im plopped back onto the hilltop
I dared to call my own

I cannot wait
I really can't
I
Can't
Wait

If I ever get married
If God has that in my stars

God, will it be great

There's no distance I wouldn't go for them

Pain now is temporary
And those eyes will always hold a glint for me
I will--am chasing that glint
Until I belong to them,
And they want to belong to me

Until that silver shines through me
Amplifying
My eyes, my nose, my mouth,
Everything.

Until that light reflects back
Brighter to them
Hopefully
Than my open, vulnerable, enamored,
Eyes received them
Though I know I'll never believe it if they say so

Look!
There

I can see it now,
Can you?
The flash from their eye?
As quick as their breeze walking past,
But twice as warming
Now their smile!
A smile
I would bear the rest of my life
alone
If only at my final conscious sight
I would see it
Once
In person

We greet Selene,
As we walk, you and me,
Alone together under the light,
And I bid you,
A solemn
Slow
Goodnight.

No breath,
In my nose,
Breaths,
Held as one,
Anticipation of tender union,
None.

I greet you, full of misery,
For Apollo's first greeting was only to me,
Well, I know he greeted you too
But in total, of greetings, there were two

You aren't mine,
Nor am I thine,
And until that time,
tho first the sun may stop its shine,
I will always treasure,
Our bitter-sweet nights together,

Of no breaths,
In my nose,
Breaths,
Held as one,
As I wait,
To have Apollo's greetings to us be one.

Everyone seems like they were so much older when they were my age,
They always knew what to do,
But for me, for now,
My brain is still buffering

I can't quite make it one full day,
without wishing I were a kid so I could go out to play.
But as a kid looking at the men standing tall,
I always wanted to be one of them,

But no, it's not just what it appeared to be,
From my vantage point in my beech tree,
For I'm still the same kid, only two feet tall,

Jellyfish clouds in drift,
Their invisible tendrils,
Zappin’ n' trapin’ air,
Leaving the sedentary dead weight,
Directly on my shoulders.

The nostalgic Sahara heat,
Travels through time and space to Ohio,
Where a younger me swam in the,
Not actually cold but cooler pool.
Ten years but two seconds later,
I work there, Date there, Talk there, and eventually
Leave there

Fills you up with carrion,
And leaves you to marinate,
Merely Marionetting movements,
Jerky and unfamiliar with the phlegm thick,
Cement heavy,
Consistency of your limbs.
Tires you out,
Until you sit a screen zombie,
Nonplussed,
Having your scalp pulled back and skull
Cracked,
Like a jaw breaker

The dinner din of a hip open-air restaurant mixes with the judging whispers of the serving staff,
The smell of arid red wine filtering through the winter window pain air,

One tanned-over brick accents the grey spackled background walls,
The gold plated ceiling tantalizing our peripherals,

The light beech wood floors subvert our attention from the painted dark oak chairs

Portions of food designed to satisfy, not over stuff, guests
Glide out with mysterious but pleasing quickness.

Not too full but an obviously profitable night with diners and servers leaving, with full stomachs or pockets
But not both,

Each believing they got the better deal

I don’t take philosophy courses,
Not because I’m smarter and always right,
But because I’m jaded.
I know each person in our
Lewis & Clark exploration through what we think is ours,
Comes to moments of great clearing clarity,
Of unlocking more parts of our mind,
New abilities like a videogame,
For which I cannot hate,
Or love,
More or less,
For to find myself,
The greatest of mysteries solved, what joy!
I cannot know myself,
The worst of betrayals, what sorrow!
But seeing as I’m the most central force,
In only this galaxy and the next,
I cannot afford the time for you,
To go through this too.

Marvelous mysterious moments,
When your Mad Max brain,
Can’t open the intake valves of your nostrils,
Far enough to **** up enough oxygen,
To fuel your head fast enough
To process your thoughts,
Well enough to reach
Your, “Eek’ah!”

I disassociate to my "friends" lives scrolling by,
I don't need any spliff or fungus to reach
Peak apathetic  non self congruence.
Watching years pass by in seconds
Is all the psychedelic room temperature
Mental priming for my primate mental
That I could ever hope for

Before being snapped back out
By the cubed carrot reward of
Internet interaction
Which keeps me salivating and searching
For ways to increase the amount of time
I don't have to associate with that guy inhabiting my body
For a while I can see my problems as goners
Being slowly erased from my mind like a magnet over a hard drive

Until a kindly panic attack reminds my of
My lack of lack of control
And the selfless self centered guilt keeps me
Wishing I were working instead of living
Who could be so audacious
As to propose a life out side

It was an ugly tree, twisted, broken and bare,
But that’s not important, look over there!
Just over the hill, two fauns, ***’ bare,
No shame no pomp, they don’t even care!
And here you are, in your oversized suit,
Of brass and steel, and one missing boot,
To vanquish the dragon that stands tall.

Off you went from your quiet home,
And decided to leave your friend, the Gnome,
Of who you couldn’t stand due to his odor,
He, his entire life, worked as a manure loader,

An—what? The tree? What of the tree?
First you should get some manners.
You’re in MY story by God and I will have my say.
For it may be your life, but you’ll live it my way.

But the tree, yes you’re approaching it now,
And see that it is bare of leaves..(in the summer? How?)
You daren’t go near there, If I do say myself,
For people who go there end up like the elves…


Dead.
But enough of that now let’s continue,


That silly old tree is now far away now,
And want to save the princess, Draud,
Her father is rich, and a land owner too!
Don’t make that face, I’ll make it back at you.

What about the tree? No I don’t care—We don’t care about the tree,
You’re going to live how I say.

Now. You’ll defeat the dragon and set Draud free,
And then she’ll be yours for all to see,
You’ll be happy and wealthy and have propriety,
And then you’ll be happy all thanks to me!

So forget the tree and all its mystery,
For its story is unknown even to me!
And we’ve had this whole thing planned for you,
And yet you keep asking what this tree can do?

OK well fine, what if you go that route?
Maybe you’ll get turned into a pig with a snout.
And Draud needs saving, what of her plea?
What? Save herself? You’re kidding me.

Now go, **** you, and do as you’re told,
Or I’ll say you drop dead.
Still resisting? Still can’t decide?
Do what you want.
These polite people spend time to hear this story,
They’re all angry I’m sure,
It’s All your fault now they’re disappointed,
You king of fools.

Whats that? you want to end this scene?
Fine but only two lines, and nothing mean.
If those two lines don’t contain, “please forgive me”
Then consider yourself shunned,
Here, the mic.

[Adventures Ensue,]
[Without all of you.]

I don’t have anything against them flailing about,
With their commanding stare and whisper shouts,
Don’t get me wrong it’s not an easy job,
To keep all in time with a clean kebab,
And I don’t think I could keep a civil look when an oboe’s flat.

I think that’s when my brain would crack,
Just as when you break a twig,
First you feel the wood bend and give,
Then Crack! Like stubbing your toe,
Sudden pain and yelling, I’ve thrown my shoe at the tone deaf Oboe

I am but…a peaceful poet,
Wishing to lay myself in fields for day after day,
Without need to eat and not know it,
Without war or strife, or shadow of any shade,

I am but…a lackadaisical lover,
Happy not to fight,
But lay awake talking with one another,
Staying up late into the night,

I am but…a comfortable companion,
We all lay looking into the shallow depths of a river,
As bliss is felt, never need to shiver,
Though unneeded, for there is no heat, a few shady trees grow,
Time is silly and is a thing that no one ever knows.

To the forgotten poems!
Dead for all not to see,
Unless your heart's romantic,
In which case they are free,

Roam my mind you unchained moments!
And flee my capture you Germans from Romans!

To the hunt! The contest! The chase we all endure!
For every one I’m able to express, may one hundred elude me!

Leave your treasures,
Forget to listen,
To all of your peers and their sayings,
Your cash can’t help you here,

Killing lies,
Till death do us apart,
Killing lies,
No care can be too much,

A field of lies,
Truth mines,
A tragedy,
Serine oblivion,
Pure bubbles of treachery,

Killing lies,
Tonight won’t end ever,
Killing lies,
Get “A”s you’ll do well in life,

Death in jubilation
Of truth’s explanation

One day I sat alone drinking a pint,
My a mhuirnin arriving this mornin'
I said I'd greet her and then spend the day
Stroll'an' watch all the ships come to harbor

Her ship was due in from Dublin today,
She'd gone home for to bury her father,
And though she loved him she weren't feelin' grey,
He'd left her mom alone at the alter,

So there I sat, her ship taking its time,
A little red lark sung above me,
And then it landed, much to my surprise,
On my shoulder just ever so gently

I didn't move I just marveled in place,
The small clever lark sung on my shoulder,
And then from tweets to words slowly I heard
My dear love's voice come out of the small bird

My dear I don't have time
To ask how you are
God gave me but only a moment
To say I love you and don't waste your time
My ship won't ever make it to harbor.

I didnt know just quite what I should say
I was feeling a mix of emotions
I had no reason to doubt this small bird
But if so then my heart surely'd be broke,

My dear I can see you
Can't quite understand
I've died and I've gone on to heaven
In time you'll see
I've done all that I can
And have found yourself a new a mhuirnin

Then back to songs that bird's beak did return,
I couldn't help but shaking and bawling,
But as it flew off It left me a plume,
And I still keep that feather right on me.

In time I found love again,
Calling my name,
And boy did he say it so sweetly,
But every morning I still hear her song
My little red lark singing above me.

**** me sidewase-- sidewise apparently,
i can't get a word in between these red dots and
Red snakes biting at my letters's ankles
At least when I'm pen ning I have the option to ignore that im an *******

You **** gobbling weak kneed slack jawed fool

Alright Alright let's take it easy I'm simply trying to help
No one would ever doubt your genius
But your spelling can certainly take a little
Critazisms?
Is that how you
Spelt?

Dont patronize me **** it

My gal's got a way of talkin' so sweetly
Of talkin' so sweetly to me
It brings me the mornin' to hear her
Voice sweetly
To hear her
Kind words just for me

She talks of forever and ever just with me
She talks like she's writin' a poem
She talks like a liar
Eyes glint like a tiger
I see it,
And know that I'm *****

My gal's got me wrapped all up on her finger
Caught up in her hair
Curls like irons.
But me I don't worry
That she'd ever harm me
I'm just as disarming
As she

I know by the taste of her tongue
It is silver
I know cause it matches my own
And though we both talk of such aery ideas
When we are together I'm home

I hold infinity in my hand,
And yet I cannot grasp it

It has no sky, no sea no land,
No gravity to lash it

Finger to thumb,
Inches stretched into eternity
How can it be,
Private to me
I have my own little infinity

Half, then half,
Then half thousand more
I cannot count,
Hope to find out
The grains upon the shore

Captivated, I’ll continue to stare,
At my hand of naught save air,

Resolved to solve the mystery
Of my own little infinity

Naps hit like a brick wall
At cement semi truck speeds
The collision re-envisions
Clay brick to ice cube
Shattering into my reality,
As I try and get up from
My prone position
My mind fills in the cracks,
Of my name, my place, my childhood,
With the melted mixing moments
It had just shown me before,

Mr. CandyCane visiting last minute,
With exes kissing every other tooth,
Grown bamboo out of a pupil,
Who sits attent in my dog's school,
Greeted by your smiling face at home,
But his face is reflected on my head in your eyes
Forehead lines are my only check at this point,
In dreams my face refuses to show up,
But awake I cannot escape acne wrath

The chicken baulked, "Phaulk!"
Before Latin chose to roll around,
And the "Librarian's sound, it"
Has been through pursed lips
Oedipus was clapping cheeks,
Long before Middle English clapped any,
When lions and tigers and bares
Were the prime predators
Even in The Garden,
Snake said as,
As snakes say as,
Where the language of choice I know,
Not to be English.
And if your dainty, sky-locked eyes soul and mind,
Remain unfazed by kid killers, or rampant rapers,
But try to censor my ******* ****?

They never quite got along,
but nothing made them feel wrong,
She always told him, "of course dear"
Regardless of what she did 'r didnt hear

And the *** wasn't ever bad,
But then again it was rarely had,
And words of love were not exchanged,
But they were never quite estranged,

So none were sad when one ol' day,
He just happened to go away,
She never spoke of him poorly,
But never praised him as close to holy,

And he never grudged the mandated checks,
Nor did he ever give her an extra cent.
He never went out to drink until hurlin',
Nor did he seclude himself like Merlin,

And then some day they up and died,
Had a nice funeral,
But I didn't cry.

I enjoy silent personal smiles,
Brought on by a text,
          A meme
                             Perhaps remembrance
Or the memory of a touch
An old song you just remembered
                                            By the beat of the bus' bouncing
                     Seeing other's
              Is just about as good
As having my own

Windows glassy before me,
As the beat behind them slowly comes to a resolve,
This shell before me shall dissolve.
Go onward to place I shall not reach,
Not now at least

The darkness flees the flashing badges,
Something I will not be granted

You are in a better place, or so I assume
By my own hand, I am doomed

These hands I know so well,
That is yours
Mine,

Wrenched behind me as you are stared at in terror
They think my work is over

But I have just began, I really am new to this
I don’t mean to offend but you were simply practice

Each time I shave my face,
I scrutinize with my eyes,
To look for my mistakes,
But my eyes, they fraternize,
With the enemy on my chin,
And so, too late,
When on a date,
I feel them with my fingers

Vibrant Vectors,
Bounce Buoyantly,
From castle top,
To dungeon dark,
Their Technicolor angles,
Make angels’,
Wings which,
Provide unique views,
Of the Kusama colored,
Blinking barking lights.

Take Flight!
Take Flight!
Take flight my fleet-footed fellows!
Fly as fast as your feet will allow,
For the time for fearing our future is now!
Can you hear your name, the sisters call!
Their intentions are not for your fortunes at all!
The Fates...
The Fates!
The Fates do call!
For you, for me, for my fellows all!
No Philanthropists aid can forgo this blow,
For the cure for fate no man can know,
So to flight!
To flight!
To flight one and all!
To fly...To escape...our
Fated.
Final.
Fall.

Always filling in the          s,
Deemed incomplete.
Always seen as lesser,
Unable to compete

       s let imagination flow,
With great and wild abandon,
Why people want to fill them in,
Is beyond my comprehension.

There are so few left on their own,
Most           s have been filled-in,
By mindless, programmed, boring, drones,
Faces pale from the din

So save the           s!
Don’t let this be the last haven that there is,
Save the       s,
Save our hope,
Save our imagination

Nothing quite captures the, “college feel”
As running,
Almost but not quite,
Late to class,
Several photocopied book pages,
Packets,
Handed out by the professor yesterday,
Tucked in a w shape,
Around your, my, middle ring and pointed pointer finger,
The dark crevasse made by spine height,
Etches a deep rift in the center of a work,
Or a piece,
Or a section,
Making readers take running jumps,
Hands and feet forward,
In order to reach the other side,
With some,
Falling ****** Tunes,
Into the dark lofty abyss.

Who too? Who too? the owl cries,
As he sees all with his glowing eyes,
Death, Growth, and Life anew,
All the while crying, Who too? Who too?

Alone he sits, with his knowledge vast,
Seeing all wherever his eyes are cast,
But none can relate with his knowledge too,
So he continues to ask, Who too? Who too?

I'm cast into blue icy depths,
Those eyes of yours and mine had met,
A hardened hate is what I felt
But I don't know of damage dealt

With you I had not a squabble
When we first met your affections toppled!
If I may,
then I will guess
He fed you lies
Must be the reason for those freezing eyes

I’d love to tell you how
                                 I thought
It went to hell
But you two wander off.

I'm pulled out of the frozen waves,
Into suburbs
Where we all live
Your kids come over every other
Day to play with mine

A jostle and I'm back again
Watching your backs walk fast again,

I wish we had a different fate,
But I see now, your hearts are hard,
My character must have been flawed

It is of no effect to me,
Cause if ever a time were to arise,
Or God decides there will be rain,
For you two,
I hope to be near
So that I may hear all your tears,
Stop
As aid comes around
But you will not know from whom,
And I'll leave without a sound.

My chest hurts,
And I feel like a *****,
I want to complain and sulk,
And other people make me wince,
And I thought I should be grown,
And I thought I shouldn’t care,
And I thought I’d made up my mind,
And I think I want to die.
But then again,
I’ve thought, felt,
Regretted,
Times before.

Sitting next to a girl as unknown and distant as Poe’s old wife,
The elegant back road curves of her figure alluring,
Her hardened wit to rival the stone she studies,
Hands close to soft affection,
I scarcely believe our mutual attraction,

I’m ready to have my heart broken today,
Though perhaps this is simply the impact,
Of the slow-mo hammer that’s been coming
Since the Rube Goldberg machine of life started,

Not so long ago

The sun bolstered my confidence by,
Hiding behind morose bloated clouds,
Only giving half light support,
And then leaving completely.
Yellow bellied good for nothin’…

I’m ready to have my heart broken today,
My flippant flying exterior trying to calm
My Red October sinking sub soul.
But this isn't all her fault,
Granted she’s breaking my heart.

Writing is very cathartic for me,
In the same way,
Which,
Bleeding is cathartic for plague treatment.
After drenching a page,
I sit,
Corpse-still, Catholic cathedral still,
Feel!
Echoing off my abandoned adorned walls.

The back of my eyes feel wet,
And the hot-cocoa after sledding,
Warmth in my chest wont go away.
My head feels magnetized to my stomach,
With my nose pulling my head downward.

My hair irritates my skull,
As the clammy underside of my skin,
Grips who I am,
My very essence,
In a death vice

Tumblin’ Bi-latterial bumbkins
Smirk of untrustworthy salutations
Tribes with terabytes of tirades
Engaged in bipartisan relay races
Delay until faces grimace

They really forced our hands on this one

The fat men falling from heights
False winters
And radiation reproduction
Healing blemishes of backwater beasts
Who’ve grown oh so much since
And now silence for ***** sake

Foreign plants and fibers
No more human hands
to tear and manufacture
For cheap and foreign brands,
Granted,
She won’t care we’re gone,
She’s always been
Will be
Back to a blue blip
Little blue dot
On a mat black background
Grant no sound to the camera
Watching while zooming
Slipping and tumbling
Lonely but still working
Sending pitiful postcards
Of galactic grasses
To a dead receptor
Whose data’s been full for eons
Further and  

Each day

A quick stab in the side,
At least it will save him from
                                               "bEiNg BoReD"
Talking, snickering, whispering, talking, talking,
Just a quick stab in the back!
Maybe a hammer to the temple,
And a shot through the heart...

No?
Well, fine.
Ruin my fun.
I assure you he'll be back soon
If Satan couldn't listen to Jesus,
This ****** won't stay a day in hell.

I try to cry but reality shows my fears,
As though i try i can find no tears.

A free portrait! Imagine that,
At no charge this troglodyte
Decided that I deserved a rendition in pulsing crimson, me!
He effortlessly sliced the curve of my face,
And then holding true to brute form,
Let his fists do the rest of the painting.
In a breath’s thought I fought the idea
That this strong browed man was a fan of
Yves klein, but then he caringly guided my sight
Floor-bound and I noticed that he was a
Monochromatic *******.

Now, I wasn’t expecting Monet,
But in truth the elegance of the lazy red river
Careening down my cheek and neck got my hopes up.

And then further was impressed by his liberalness
With bottomless black crimson
Where he’d only previously flirt with young pinot noir
As he took a break to wash and massage his stained hands
I clutched at the hope that perhaps he was done with the
Onslaught with such blunt tools,
As such methods could ruin the whole piece
Unfortunately, he returned
And his care for each swipe was becoming more

More impassioned, but less precise,
I asked if he perhaps needed a second break?
Perhaps I could assist him,
I wanted to give it a try myself, but my hands were
Tied.

In vain,
I tried to tell him that,
Perhaps,
His bearish skills and appearance,
Would be better suited to a life of leather, whips, and Oedipus Complexes,
But his response was,
Cutting.

You should never laugh at an artist
Especially the bad ones
Because then their work some how finds a way to get worse


I asked if he’d learned how to work from his father,
And whether his father had worked him in any
Other
Manner, and that’s when I became dizzy
I think.
Apparently struck a nerve.

I resent many of my own works,
And I resent who wrote them.

But It’s what I feel and my hand writes,
As a suicidal turtle,
Though may place his head underneath an elephant’s foot,
Cannot stop himself from pulling back under his shell.

Trying to tap telegrams
On the back of my iphone
In a faux leather seat
In the back of my mothers car.
Anyone will tell you I have a
Knack
For the contrary
And there’s strangely no argument,
Where I got it from.
The seat belt sits uncomfortably across my throat,
Stopping my words,
A space formerly only occupied by her gaze,
Though my future career may benefit,
My current psyche does not.

Your stream of thought pleases naught,
And swirls your mouth in toilet style,
It spouts your bile through your smile,
Where we all wish it would not

****, I’ve been high since,
Since I was a kid,
I get lofty and light,
With the rest of them,

Granted my high was that due to elevation
And not escapism,

The Beech is the best place to go on a summer’s day

The weather like a warm blanket begs you to stay outside,

The branches crisscross across the sky,
Saving me from any toss,
Letting me think thoughts,
Of rushing from aerie heights,

I bend with The Beech,
And its soft coarse bows,
Match the gentle Maternal caress of the sweet summer breeze,
Beckon me into natural,
Seats, grown just for me,
As I have grown to be worthy of it

The clouds
Gentle behemoths
Meander beyond boundaries,
But never lose their lackadaisical luxuriousness

They’ve informed me
Today,
Today is the day for,
A climb,

I spider up the trunk and branches,
More mother’s ladder to father’s rays,
Even at the slight height,
I feel his tender gaze,
And embrace,
Protecting me from the ludicrous idea of failing,
Falling

Im lonely
But
The wind has come to comfort me
Perhaps not in
"reality"
Or whatever you people to tell me to snap back to
But i'm glad I don't feel alone.

I can watch the pretty girls' funny shows on Netflix all night
Who's words weren't written with them in mind
Or any mind for that matter
Or who's shows aren't even "theirs"

Hopefully my puffs of bright beaming teeth breath
Fuel these winds onward
To someone else with worse problems
Or better
So be it

Meticulously making milestones,
Don’t chase me,
Dripping dropping side roads of thoughts,
My train is racing,
Until it's up ended by life,
Hum’or’catastrophe
The beat and time I’ve worked for entirely,
Dies

My hand writes when it is sleepy,
Though my pin prickled pal pays me no tithe,
The static sound feel of my arm,
Removes itself from me,
Granting formerly unprecedented agency,
Between my brain and my limb,
With me left the unhappy spectator