It is hard
on your soul
to admit
how often
you have
been full
of ****.

I felt your spirit follow me
ten thousand feet above the sea - floating,
flee(t)ing over aquamarine mountains
in a metallic bird with frozen wings.
In my dreams,
you are a wild sycamore tree who sings
lunar symphonies to bumblebees
sun spotted eyes,
sight of a man searching after ephemeral mystery.
I will whisper your name into the wind, send
my spirit back round the earth -
we will breathe the same air,
after passing through a million lungs (heaving)
see the same clouds,
after traveling distances unspeakable..

And will you remember me:
eyes brimming (in silence)
hips twitching (in stillness)
biting lips and picking skin and
itching to hold you with palms and fingertips,
head in crook of shoulder,
hand pressed upon chest,
stomach to stomach breath stolen,
heavy, wet -
having communion without the wine or bread
just the body, unbroken
no call to repent.

My left hand has resorted to pins and needles
Heels keep bouncing, won't stay down
Restless recklessness making my skin crawl
Like a live, exposed wire

I need to burn.

Razors and cigarettes, like magnets,
Calling my touch.
Like a sacred ritual,
I'd sacrifice myself for desire
Hopes and dreams be ******
I'd light that fire.

Let me burn.

I'd be the light on the coast,
Warning of the dangers below
Whispers in my sirensong
Beckoning you to harbor home
Sending up prayers in my smoke

Tie me to the pyre.
Strike the match.
Watch me burn.

Like a sunset
Nothing gold can stay.

Leaving me be,
Air finally reaches my lungs.
No more waiting and wondering
Where you’ve been or where you’re going.
With newfound air in these tired lungs
I can out run those long-clinging fears.
Your name is no longer engraved
On the vice clamping my heart shut.

Hope for new love, new adventures,
Has melted the lock on the door,
And I’m tripping over untied shoelaces
In my haste to escape the prison that was my life.

Farewell, black and white.
Here comes the sun.

Two knights rode forth at early dawn
A-seeking maids to wed,
Said one, “My lady must be fair,
With gold hair on her head.”

Then spake the other knight-at-arms:
“I care not for her face,
But she I love must be a dove
For purity and grace.”

And each knight blew upon his horn
And went his separate way,
And each knight found a lady-love
Before the fall of day.

But she was brown who should have had
The shining yellow hair—
I ween the knights forgot their words
Or else they ceased to care.

For he who wanted purity
Brought home a wanton wild,
And when each saw the other knight
I ween that each knight smiled.