O child of the sun
landlocked lover of the sea,
do not mourn the death of the day.

The black velvet sky
will wrap you in splendor,
stars adorning your crown,
fireflies spilling from your fingers.

Howl at the moon,
dance and laugh and summon chaos,
remember that you were born
with wildfire in your veins.

chugging bile and liquor closed eyes smell the innards of a joint wrapped in oilslicked stain shoveling sugar thrice processed into vocal chords left silenced but for the coughing up of shriveled lungs set ablaze to ease the twitching triggered by the mistress doused in white who scaffolds into crumbling nasal caverns to numb the brain that dreams of god in guilty refrain and whips thorny obedience to words siphoned through ghosts of men and obedience to the inflated heads of state and corporate banks who play Skinnard's game and always win millions of yes-men nodding their heads in addiction to artificial green leaves printed with blood and even lovers twirling passion in their beds have their eyes squeezed shut clutching at darkness slick and disappearing at the touch of pulsing fingertips racing to bury themselves in skin and forget the achey organs that lay waiting within weary and smothered from covering up thoughts too sharp to breathe in...

--it's all hide and seek.
running and running and running
from bare and open
vulnerability
shrouded underneath
layers
of reflected identities
and neuro-chemistry
and material fortresses
and snarled teeth
and synthetic bliss
wrapped in bitter bumblebees.

don't you think it's time you swallowed
the wince it takes
to glimpse your fear's shadows?

I wear my watch on the inside of my wrist keeping time by the pulsing of overfilled veins.
If I'm honest, the seconds pass blurry when you are around, red pounding at the blue surface reminding my life of it's vigorous momentum as the watch face marks it's disappearance.
I can do nothing about it's circular cycle, nor the manner in which I mirror it, recycling threadbare thoughts and feelings in ostensible new purpose.
I am a walking contradiction formed of practical mysticism and coffee stained teeth, spinning poetry from numb fingertips onto the ghosts of birch trees, fleeing from my wildest dreams.
Meet me,
half way between belief and reality at the junction of duality and I'll reveal I have no true identity - no creed no name no history,
only chaotic shifting and angry bumblebees drilling sinkholes for visitors toes to curl into as they fashion temporary homes in me.
I am solar soliloquy.
Astrological antiquity curses me to orbit you habitually.
Eye of the storm, hand of the beast, souls of the many downtrodden and hungry, asking for shoulders to stand upon shaky.
Grant me your three wishes, and I will conjure infinity from our palms clasped tight in secrecy.
Tell me,
neglectful lover,
when did my beauty become a pleasurable void, to be touched
yet left unseen,
when did my spirit become matter
buried under the mind of desire and empty chatter.
Humor me,
say that the meeting of our skin is more than physical proximity say,
that you dream of my flowers growing from your ribcage say,
that the gods granted us an opportunity for greatness,
say that our kiss is a portal to Andromeda and that you could get lost there forever - I know I have.
Yet, even light years away I hear the tick tocking ticktick of my heart bleeding into itself.
I am fleeting.
I am deafening.
I am a forgetful timekeeper,

late to my own re-birthing.

sticky grasping fingers
unsatisfied with holding lovers at arms length,
greedy to encompass
the entirety of another's being
face-to-face.

crawling up your heart's rickety fire escape,
they toss pebbles at the window
and pray
for a sleepy conscious to emerge.

daydreaming of caressing skin
bare to the blazing sun and gentle wind,
they practice tracing figure-eights
longing to skate
from collar to hipbone
drawing invisible treasure maps
and collecting jewels from creases of elbows.

twitching with anticipation,
swelling with life,
full veins racing to congregate at the tips that would
make contact with the your planetary surface.
they orbit spinning as a moon,
reflecting glow after midnight
and pulling in tides to kiss the rugged shore.

longing to memorize the rise and fall of supple valleys,
they would search like a blind man
fervently running over porous exterior.

hungry with curious wonder,
they purposefully linger centimeters from your edges
begging to be met by your fingers
reaching back to form connection.

sometimes, there is so much boiling over in my chest
that I must stare at the moon and pour out my excess
into her generous craters,
filling in jagged sidewalk cracks with apologetic cement.
sometimes, my heart is a jackhammer and I crush my bones to dust under the pounding weight of the love I carry for you,
I am a beggar who continually
accumulates debt to throw roses at your feet and watches silently
as you don't miss a beat walking on them to longingly greet
the shadow of another's ghost.
sometimes, I catch a whiff of your lips in my morning tea and a moan slips into my cup splashing burning liquid onto raw skin
pulsing ****** regret and chagrin.
sometimes, I wish we had never met,
and sometimes I wish we had been the first sight in each other's newborn eyes.
sometimes, I reach for you at night in my empty bed
and roll off past the missing guardrail your body used to create,
stuttering and floundering on the icy floor sometimes I pray for Lucifer
to burn your fingerprints from my skin -
the blistering sores would hurt less than this.

i want to collect all the loose pebbles kicked out from the cracked sidewalk corners of this reckless town and hold them in my silky nightgown,
dreaming of little moments forgotten and pushed aside by thematic fantasmacide.
i want to bathe them in the river and let them cleanse me,
soaking in hiccuped breaths and slow motion blinks,
just a second more of peace-ridden darkness before the clamoring jamboree - streets spilling over with hilarity, drunks dancing wild, children searching for love in tops of trees.
i want to caress every weary brick-face
with the souls of my feet,
conscious of all those to walk before and following - so many lives with unique spiraling fantasies
woven into birch leaves.
i want to press them all between ancient book pages as they fall,
let potion brew amongst severed pieces of processed bark and dying leaf,
rejoined and relearning each other's mutated intricacies.
i want to drink the honey dripping
from the eyes of roof-top lovelies, clasp their hands and spin in revelry.
i want to memorize the hue the moon casts over this town,
the way she lays me spell-bound into dewy grass,
the way the wind laughs,
the way your eyes split my heart in half - nostalgic for what has yet to leave me,
romantic sadness holds hands with mystery.

your silence is deafening, darling.
pour me another cup of misunderstanding
and i'll chug it down to ease
the choking passage of razors through my throat,
the singe of blood soaked vocal chords.
the emptiness of your bones
has propelled me to project ancient tomes
to consume hollowness, to color in absence.
i have cued all the thunderstorm songs
and i'm humming along in watery refrain
sluggishly off beat and out of key
to keep the fog from suffocating me.
there was a roaring fire
that's been smothered
by the vacuuming of oxygen.
void swallows void,
fantasy births ghoulish reality.
the moon stands half mast tonight,
stars falling as tears into the sea,
flooding tidal waves rolling over, over
churning lost hands up to hold a choppy surface.
forsake all promises
but cherish me, still.
love takes her last steps off a jagged cliff
and into an etherial hell.

the first rays of morning light
tip-tap at eyes lidded with stardust.

remnants of galaxies tumble off onto pillows as
fox-hair lashes blink
open to greet the shining face before them
and close again to feel:

the weight of steady arms encompassing
a body melting into feathers,
the even ascending and receding
of an open chest upon bare shoulders,
the gentle breeze breathing from
one face to its lover's,
the warmth of capillaries whispering secrets
across porous boundaries of skin,
the pulsing signals of a heart's morse code
teaching the process of recognition,
the subtle scent of complexities
compounded in spiritual intimacy,
the longing to stay suspended in early hours of sun
inside the tranquil essence of another's being.

Excuse my bliss-trance
I've been seduced by the fragrant floral pheromones flooding the air,
The lilac-laced wind has wrapped my lips in splendor and
Left my eyes heavy lidded hazy
Enraptured gazing at the velvet vulvas of lilies.
The blossoming world casts it's spell of subtle sensuality
And I am left stunned in a stupor,
Heart oozing out of my orifices,
Falling in love with everything I see
Simply because it exists.
I'll caress every snapdragon to uncover it's mysterious caverns,
Stretch to kiss the slender necks of tulips,
And weave violets into my crown so our essences intertwine.
My collarbone is blushing crimson
And my head is drained of reason -
Tis the season for romantic abandon.

{if you would let me:}

i want to unlock the steadiness of your hands and the tranquility of that knowing gaze,
unfurl the scroll tucked deep inside your ribcage and
set a metronome to the beat drumming in your chest.
i want to decode the secrets folded up in the corners of your crooked smile and chant them mixed into sacred hymns -
gibberish and syllogism.
i want to feel the electricity pulsing vigorously in your tempest
and the crack-crack-BOOM visceral quake of thunder shaking at the edges of understanding.
i want to chisel at the surface of your caverns 'til the exterior gives way and the inner waters surge through.
i want to stand waist-deep soaking in the river
and learn the intricacies of its currents,
the way it flows over-into-through itself and smooths jagged surface.
i want to hear the song of its roaring waves and whisper harmony into the wind,
trailing my fingertips along the waterbed
i'll spin with whirlpools spontaneous.
i want to hold the heavy earth between my palms,
and let the sandy subtleties slip through the cracks.
i want to caress the faces of rock formations crafted
by the weathering of decades as a blind man discovering through ardent touch...

meditating on intimate geography, i'll construct a map to the sacred space where our spirits meet
overlapping in synchronicity.
and if you commune with me there,
i'll uncover the mysterious universe bursting forth in me, and we
can learn how to integrate our corners of infinity.

metal mountain majesty,
rest your weary bones with me.
calling all concrete angels to the streets
time has come for spirit and sky to meet.
transmutation of me to infinity,
intimate touch inspires divinity so
treat the porcupine souls with an extra kiss,
remind their soft underbelly of the
strength hidden in bare skin vulnerability and knowledge from within.
there, there delicate dandelion,
keep finding cracks in the sidewalk
to push up through,
beauty and life will follow you even into
the unforgiving jaws of iron gods
that rip bone from sinew.
and remember:
all life is but cosmic comedy,
the universe giggling in paradoxical remedies
riddling harmony in a discordant key
unfolding rigid arms into gentle giving -
notice the earth's truth still living
in the metallic city.

chirp-i-derp chickadee!
flee across the sea with me to seek foreign fantasies,
we won't need anything but our hands our feet our lips reaching.
kick the dust up and make a ruckus,
we were born to spit fire.
funny thing, desire, always takes you into the inferno,
burning the whole, cleanse and resew the form from hollowness.
in all of this we are but sand in the wind,
minuscule molecules floating on the whims of something much greater.
so I plan on claiming myself, and naming myself
captain.
I plan to trust my intuition to bring all my wildest dreams to fruition.
because what is life worth if I concede to to bow and serve the scemes of men who believe they deserve to hold power over me - HA!
as if anyone could mold me hold me fold me up into cookie-cutter slots.
I spit on you!
catch me if you can, big brother,
you might take my body but you'll never touch my soul,
she's already soaring through saturn's rings,
slinging sapphires round to isis and winking at the moon,
being rewoven through the mother's loom,
knit back into the cosmic womb.
now begin again.

sun sizzle pop-rock hopscotch round the rowdy block of troubled spots,
and iron-lock your dirt-soaked sock to a gumdrop your friend forgot the last time you stopped to watch the lilies bloom
in slow motion loop-de-loos.
sinking smooth waterloos,
darling just look at you! beaming with gooey honey dripping sooloos -
woohoo baby!
the lazy river bends her neck to spend extra time with the water bed,
so shed your excuses and wear your heart on the tippy-top of your head,
if it falls, mend it by sending ends of threads spinning fractal patterns round the edge,
crafting a hand-patched garden to bake batches of laughter from.
latching your fingers, pull and tug those weeds into soot underfoot tearing remnants of long lost looks your lover took and shook off your balcony in a hazy dream.
alchemy your bones to seeds
and feed them with tears of gold sweet memories.
reading poetry from socrates thumb
won't translate the sacred humming running through your chest,
only you can sing the refrain of broken hymns and lift the soul from the rims of the black hole pit.
the universe lives in you, don't forget.

lulled into a false sense
of pure and final release
i let my resentment assemble silently
under a sea of single malt whiskey
and layers of unfinished poetry soaked
ink bleeding blackened tar
to suffocate the forgotten and blind my hands
to the universe hidden in your worm hole.

sand crusted eyes
blinking wildly to **** and clean
shake the dust
bleach the dirt
wash and preen.
my long lost darling
i wonder what evil is lurking
round the razor sharp corners
of the looping maze that's
spinning from my center manically.
maybe if i burry pandora's box
she will no longer haunt my heart
or whisper in my ear
when i lie with lovers in the dark.

the accidental spark of anger
burning at the mention of your name
sets wildfires raging over woods and sea
massacring entire ecosystems in flame.
the only way out is to call a flood, but -
i've drowned myself too many times to keep this up.

baby i crave rose-petaled
cigarette romance,
let the smoke rise from my lungs
and curl through your canals
caress you in dark alleys and
lead your lips to embrace hushed defeat
reflected in the moon-lit puddles at your feet.

baby i desire the electric plume
of your poisonous touch,
every meeting of our skin causes volcanoes to erupt
spewing lava from my eyes but
my phoenix feathers will keep us
from plummeting asunder.

baby i get lost in the technicolor
pictures playing in slow-motion-reverse,
where sugar coats the screen
from the edges inward, building mountains of
sticky residue for my memories to fossilize into.

baby i chase after loud-mouthed contradictions
with pupils the size of dimes,
i fall in love with vagabonds
and flippant lost causes
who commit heartfelt crimes.

baby i'll track down every demon in you
and take them all out to lunch,
i'll piece together your black hole tar soul
collage of a universe waiting to burst forth,
and i'll hold onto the remnants of whispered secrets
until my museum of you turns back into a live exhibit.

there's a certain feeling
that creeps up
through the hairline fissures
in your brittle bones,
on frigid hollow nights
at the bewitching hour,
when silent stillness descends
a muted film of
forgotten bittersweet memories
over the darkness.

and honey-yellow street lamps
cast ghostly shadows on the sidewalks, who
hold your hand in solidarity
as you trudge through
empty space,
and the dampened humming of the buzz saw
never really fades,
playing tricks on the music in your ears
spinning haunting discordant loops over
sullen sugar-coated melodies.

it's as if you've stepped through a portal
of time and space
where there is no singular destination
but transportation to the
eternal place
in you
where that feeling has lived
every time
it has arisen in the past,
where that feeling will return
in all the visits to come.

and the place is familiar
so you settle into the bed of nails
comfortably,
breathe in the sharp sting of ragged pain,
and float through the museum
of recycled thoughts
on angry waves.
reluctant transparency
plays its hide-and-seek game, and
you re-learn the methodology
of picking up the particles
and packing them
into steel cages
into cardboard boxes
into dusty attics
into black hole space ships -
sending them into the void.

the mundane madness
in the
mystic mirage of memorializing  mourning.

jumping jumbled thoughts
hop-scotch, double-dutch, criss-cross
getting lost in mish-mosh
scratching a vinyl
stuck constant skipping,
unfinished rounds of loop-de-loop spinning
speeding down stream
leaping across time warping lilypads,
memories interrupted by what-if daydreams.

my brain places haphazard bookmarks
when it runs into a lump,
then hops on a new train
ka-clunk ka-clunk-clunk ka-clunk,
tripping over decaying stumps
and mountains of over-processed junk.
always falling back to distraction,
instant satisfaction
was taught to me habitually,
so i look the other way when
my will bends instantaneously
at the mention of insane
raucous romping renegades.

i throw hand grenades
to prevent unfinished fragments
of insight from cementing.
wishing my words would
spit themselves out,
or dive off a cliff to utter calamity
cause effort is lost on me -
passionless revere
and bottomless see-sawing.

just stick me slack-jawed
in front of any cookie-cutter size of
plastic rectangle-god,
they all repeat the same chant
commanding me to stare endlessly at
screen after screen after screen after screen after screen -
my screaming pacified by flashing lights
and buzzing jibber-gabber.
infinite scrolling consumes isolated nights,
meticulously crafting a self-projection
made from inverse other-reflection
to deflect nagging fear of
detection and rejection.

can you really hear my inflection
from this typeface
and condensed pre-packaged mind-space?
i feel like i'm speaking,
but feedback is empty and misplaced
only muttered out by thoughtless mistake.
well once i pin me down
ill stick you beside,
and we can melt into cork board
a collage of disintegrated insides.

seconds
     ticking
          tick-tick
    flip-flop
         ti-
             tick-
                  ticking.
poking     at      me,
c o a x i n g me
        to move:
stand up, get out, be, hear, see, do,
everything's right in front of you!

those two
        idle hands
                
should be crafting a cat's cradle of cathartic creation…

but easy comfort
         in apathetic

                                                               ­ nothing,
in slowly
         being e n v e l o p e d
cuddled back into, back into, back into my bed of
                                                                ­                                        blank…
slate, blank mind, blank hands.
blankets covering a blank stare at a blank ceiling.
smothering the murmurs
of the matador
in
     my
          chest,
I  s  l  i  d  e  into a hazy half-dream.
the light slips past,
going home with the sun
and listening to
lunar lullabies,
I
         sigh & hum
              slinking
                            into yawns
excusing myself for d r a g g i n g
        tiredness
                     pulling on   my   strings.

sinking,
       sinking
                   into sulking.
staying
        to sit
                 in sadness,
                                            sinking.
tic­king
       ticking
                   t i c k i n g
TOCK

the blocking of
      my eyes,
             ears,
                 hands,
                      feet,
                          heart
stymied by my own will.
and it will
continue
      for
             e t e r n i t i e s
of absolutely
                   arbitrary
                               nothing.

expect for cookies.
I will pledge my honor to soak up all sweetness so that my bones might
      rot
          faster,
             sinking,
                 weighting,
                       wearing,
                          tearing,
                                        s
                                           i
                                              n
                                                 k
                                                    i
          ­                                            n
                                                         g
                                                              .­

spiraling out faster,
                                              sinking
into another
                                               sinkhole
black void of destruction
                                              *******
the color
the dimension
of
me
into the next bed
                                             dungeon
for sleep,
dreaming of
                                             sinking:
plummeting past plumes of poisoned plum trees
plop perched atop an immobile glass-sealed sea
yet,

I
        sink
                     in –
                                            apathy.

does your mind ever wander to me?
flash visions of my face
across the inside of eyelids
movies of slow motion embrace.

                                                       ­                                    do you hear my voice?
                                                          ­                         moan and giggle and hum,
                                                            ­             whisper profanities into your ear
                                                     and beat the pace of your chest's bass drum.

do your fingers feel my ghosting skin?
brush across those calloused tips
sliding closer, slinking clarity
calamity coincides with conscious choice,
i clutched the corners of certain collapse
clinging to clumsily curtained clues.
crawling cat claws over a carcass.

                                                       ­                  do you remember the very start?
                                         the moment when one of us - i'm still not sure who
                                                             ­     leaned in too close to the other's face
                                                            ­                and sealed the unspoken space
                                                           ­                                       with a deadly kiss
                                                            ­                             which dropped the rain
                                                            ­                                 which broke the dam
                                                             ­                             which released torrents
                                                        ­                            that had been held leaking
                                                         ­                               by tense bones creaking.

and when you gazed into my
melted honey eyes
with you piercing black pupils
and earnestly said:
"they were all mistakes,
but not you -
you
are not
a mistake",
were you lying through your teeth?
did the tumbling
kiss
that followed
seal your deceit?
grasping for my puppet strings
to dance me to your beat,
fog my mind with steam heat
to save your ego from defeat.

                                                        ­                                         i gallantly applaud
                                                         ­                     your flagrant charade darling,
                                                        ­                                                though flawed,
                                                         ­                                    your mask of interest
                                                        ­                             fooled me to blindly trust
                                                           ­                                              and helplessly
                                                                ­                                                            fall
                                                                ­                        into a bed made of rust,
                                                           ­                     glass promises, and folk lore
                                                            ­                              of men who transform
                                                       ­                                       in the womb of love.

does the last night haunt you
stuck on repeat
below the surface?
                                                        ­           do my words float through dreams
                                                                                 ghosting over melting trees
                                                                                       fleeting sinking feeling?
does your running
tug at you,
ripping loose seams?
                                                          ­   and did you feel the weight of my heart
                                                           ­                               as you denied my truth
                                                           ­                      and our harmony fell apart?

i feel i knew from the very start
that this would simply bring
seven layers of pain,
broken nails twisted into my brain.
but hammering down loose memories
and painting over fantasies,
won't cure the disease that sprouted in me.
i crave the impossible,
insanely desire to hold onto those who run.
i surely cursed the sun,
when i turned nocturnal
to answer your cicada phone calls,
because though i have returned to the daylight,
the blight of night-vision
engulfs me,
and i can only see your love's excision
and the remnant debris.

deadly desire for
heavy-lidded gazes and lightning hands slick sliding,
grasping and groping, ground-flung from under me
all assuring this hummingbird heart
"you are wonderful, wistful, wanted"

averting anticipation of
deadpan eyes locked on distant nondescript figures,
the end was wrapped in the beginning, fumbled attempt
at a weightless chemical explosion, gravity is a cruel master - whispering
"that which goes up, must come down"

up and down and up and down and up and down
and back and forth and inside out -
round about box stepping, and white lie butterfly kissing.
seal my coffin with the mangled guts of that mixed tape,
so if i try to come back for you i'll hear
"mute your foolish heart, he was born to flee"

dragging  lifeless limbs out into
gnawing-numbing-whipping cold air,
forced to trace worn-in footprints
trod by weighted soles, simply doing as they're told.
blind flight through the same
mile markers and blurred road signs,
of a grey scale town filled with dead ends and cul-de-sacs to spin out in.
meticulous repetitious maneuvering over towers of steam,
skin shielded from burns by a molten patchwork
of scars festering fearlessness on the surface,
and covering  layers of pages of crossed out phrases
left unmuttered to undisclosed faces.
nostrils filled with pipe dreams
blocking the taste of bitter reality
that's dripping down a swollen throat.
lips hinging on the promise of a cigarette
or a cold brown bottle to sink into,
to deflect the rejection of a soft forbidden kiss
projected by sinister ghosts sworn to inflict
nothing but uncertainty and instincts to flee.
soaking in their shadow is crippling,
but its all chocolate and mashed-potatoes
coated with sugar-laced pleas
when i crawl out from under a tomb of old dreams,
and slither into a porcupine bed
to count old regrets until my mind succumbs to sleep.

would you please drop me a line
send out a space in time where,
we are intertwined in serpentine spinning.

my mind has been imagining
the harmonics of our laughter
and how our limbs would fit together
resting weary muscles against each other.

trying to decipher your eyes
foreign tongue, flitting broken morse code
across thick air, heavy unspoken load.

doubt wields a sharp sword
that splits my desire - reaching & running
backwards, retracting hands that yearn
for things they know will burn -
searing truth into naive heartstrings,
that tethered themselves to dark misgivings.

the factory workers of my prefrontal cortex
are on a raucous strike because,
the train chugging them to lunch breaks at my amygdala
has been broken down for days.
and the now strained relay of packets of faxes from this neuron
to the one all the way south on Abbey Lane,
is creating untold pressure for Wernicke -
so forgive me if i ask you to rephrase.

despite the absent hoarded salivating mouths,
the deli in my amygdala keeps on producing
thousands of ******* italian subs,
so now the place floods with grease-sweat from old meat
that would make a carnivore remit...
and it's seeping, leaking poison to Broca,
who is now refusing to explain herself
to the confused face projected on my retina's blurred screen.

the mitochondria housed in my somatasensory
are all comatose from last night's debauchery.
so everything is still,
numb to the touch
blank on the face
dead in the eyes -
unaware of the incessant twitching
that's rolling through my joints, muscles, skin, sore red thighs.

every nucleus of every cell
restarting again, again, again,
but rebooting isn't clearing the glitch in the system.
so just lie here with me,
broken machine to broken machine -
our hearts still glisten.

my professor tells me that
'we often infer our attitudes through behavior
rather than direct action through intention'
so i'm picking apart
my every move - rewind, re-watch, repeat
the black & white play continuously fluctuates
through infinite shades of gray
as i'm retracing, re-reading between my swiveling lines
to interpret my flip flopping flightiness
i'm flitting across the floor
and my forward motion propels me backwards
into a merry go round of maybe, possibly, & sort of
blurred up & down, up & down, round & round
past decisions that I regurgitated
and now re-ingest to reinforce their meaning
but the recurrent ambivalence I taste
keeps my see-saw heart swinging
and i'd love to have a hand to hold
but all i'm finding are holes to sink into
and the blanket of darkness provides a comforting
lack of sight, but growth lies in the light
so i'll backpedal with all my might
hop on your rocket ship & take a deja vu trip
to the land of indecision where our hearts live.

as the fingertips of my heart
reach out to yours, we intertwine -
I am you & you are I,
there is nothing that holds us separate
besides the illusory vision of our eyes.
so close your blinds on this physical plane
and open your intuition,
invite in another domain - infinite connectivity.
let your bruised ego stop playing its game
and join the endless chorus.
dare to put your spirit on display -
there is no jury, judge, or gavel here,
only open arms to grab ahold of
while the walls you've clung to fall away.
bask in your liberated weightlessness,
there is no fear in true selflessness
for a singular organism will not compete
but practice generosity to its full being.
your puzzle piece in this mosaic
is a morphing tapestry,
let the wave of colors wash over you,
soak in every brilliant change of hue,
and know that as you are in all of our hearts, all of our hearts are in you.

darkened dreams
lead to clouded thoughts
and misplaced steps
of hazy intention.

twisted down underneath
gilded dreams of demise
don't you let the demons rise
out from the land of maybes.

well this turned out exactly
how you thought it'd never be.
giggle and throw that heavy head back
now forward into another drag
of a cigarette laced with promises
of eternal pleasure, endless bliss -
you know it'll never be this color again.

the first is the sweetest darling -
all that follows is singed with
disappointment, or discontent.
pour another dissonant tone into my cup
and i'll drink it right up
drowning my expectations
in sweet, sensuous sorrow.

but hopes are easy to borrow,
and i'll sign up for two thousand
just to watch them fall again and again
into utter darkness-
i know the game of muffled secrets
too well to spill this toxic dump
so lets keep pushing the buttons, harder
til the pump steams in overdrive,
and my scarred scaly skin
is burned, cleansed, and shed.

cold sweat startled wake,
to blinding grey light
cutting through torn curtains,
splaying skeletal silhouettes on the floor.
squinting crusted-shut eyes,
trying to determine the ghostly hour
lost between fragmented fever dreams.
head twisting inside-out to wrap itself
around old virtues, stand true
true blue friend, I'll surely desert you in the end.
hand on my burnt Bible to swear
my oath of destruction,
on a war path to eradicate
everything i resurrected
as an effigy to home, love, and identity.
structural anarchy - from imposed symmetry,
to the empty abyss surrounding me
where a single whimper can bounce
off itself, into crescendoing agony.
gather all the rubbled remains
of the once sanctified temple,
but piling stones straight to the sky
won't build a shelter for the aftershock.

heavy hands pressed
into hot skin, slick running
down to escape
a heady, spun mind firing blanks.

find forbidden release -
slide, push, grasp, bite,
moan into open spaces,
to fill empty pauses
of hesitation to ease frustration
through undulations crescendoing,
and breaking into staggered breathing.

covered heartbeats thump, flip-flop, flounder
under oceans tide rolling up to shore,
ensuring the footprints will recede
with the pounding waves, erase
all evidence of pointless bliss
into layers of sand,
churned over & over by ruthless repetition,
over & over into thoughtless submission,
over & over & over & over to climb over
the cliffs of insanity, jump with me,
to infinite depths of jagged teeth
crouching low to cut the heat spilled
by dilated pupils twitching to the driving beat
of some over-worked melody.

painting a precise manifesto
of a knife singularly longing
for supple curves of backs to lunge into,
and carve it's home from bone & sinew,
to nest & fester - rotten refuse.
a bed made of metallic missteps
and unspoken truths
it's only home when your heart is
shredding to fragmented shards
that wish to sink into their own kind.

but beware of the shadows
lurking behind the door marked "escape",
you can run from your monsters,
but you cannot fool fate -
your dark thoughts will inevitably manifest one day.

is my emptiness
bleeding through, into
silent conversations
lying heavy in my mind.
laughter blanketing constant
lack of words
and blank stares.
stripped down to reality,
from a shared shelter of
vision, painted with
radioactive mist.

what once resided
in holy tabernacle,
dwells in the shadow of doubt,
projected back from an
insurmountable shattering of truth.
that which once appeared
to be covenant & sacrament,
heaven-sent righteous intent,
now only heavy sealed cement.

but a chance to reinvent
is beckoning you,
from the other side
of the torn holy veil.
step into a new color of light -
your eyes might squint,
but adjustment is processing,
slowly running through those veins.

but god knows how I love
to cling to old ghosts.
so I buried you in the
bedside table drawer
in a dogwood box.
& I may not believe anymore,
but your spirit still haunts me every night.

rigid steel creaking,
squeaking to announce
it's monumental motion,
defying once static devotion
hear ye! hear ye!
the rusted machine is
jolting back to life
like clockwork, completing
patterns encoded by
calloused fingertips, pressing,
pushing, prodding, pleading with
stiff, achey keys to
punch
the storyline
back
into
place.

naive program under illusion
of sentient choice,
springs open arms
to rejoice the repeated reinforcement
of recurrent information,
fed & regurgitated & re-ingested to be fermented
in crystalline form of mind,
tinkered into alignment
by sinister hands with crude cracks,
leaking oil.

discordant dance of metal,
twirling tango
wrought with perilous footwork
to outline the model of assumed complexity
that shrouds the simple harmony
of one-two one-two -
one step after the other, followed by another
steady rhythm of cause & effect.
go head, neglect, or reject, only to
crawl back in reflection to beg for
one more turn round the ferris wheel,
to glimpse the heights of insanity
that reach ultimate clarity
of infinite perspectives unfolding,
one into another, projected onto lovers
and strangers - all alike.

add your rambling writing
of realizations, remembrances, & rehearsals
onto my hard drive,
I want to reiterate - I am learning slowly.
rereading &
restructuring pages
of this minute history.
maybe one day I'll recall
that practice
precedes progress.

I can still feel flight
Of buoyant fleeting
Motion flowing through
These now weighted limbs.
And my heart still sputters
In 5, 6, 7, 8 time
To Balanchine's divine
Choreographies -- Oh,
Spinning in ecstasy,
Visions of ghosts in me,
Waltzing with ******* and,
Overworked tendencies,
Blink -----
And you'll miss
That moment when
Dreams became ash
Falling from rafters.
Dust glistening in afterglow
Appears to shimmer
Even when it lands in your eyes.

Excuse me,
Can I squeeze past your apathy?
Get to the heart of everything,
Where spikey pillows
Lay on gravel beds.
Do you want to paint the town red?
Or purple, most likely.
Won't press into
Reforming bruises,
But you'll be elsewhere anyway,
Too far for clinging
Fingers to wiggle out,
And grasp sturdy hands
For support on the balance beam.
The composed serenity,
Laughter and glee
A marvelous masquerade
Covering the demons in me
That you know well.
But I'll set down my baggage
To fit between stolen seconds,
To sit in hand in hand
Silence.
Our heartbeats meeting at the palms
Sewn to lovers
Beckoning you with magic
Tricks I can't replicate
When begging for morsels of reciprocation,
And chastising myself
For expectations.
Silly sullen child,
Waving toys at you,
Please play with me,
Drop a line,
Drop your excuses,
For dropping promises in the dirt.
Wish they'd turn to dust
Rather than sinking me
Through lightning sand,
Sprinkled with shards
Of broken glassy hands.
Can you feel my desperation?
Like when we were
Interwoven in ineffable stagnancy,
Stifled in sticky still summer air,
Muffling every sound
From this moldy mouth.
But it's an orchestra in my mind,
Dissonant dirge repeating it's chorus
Into infinite insanity.
Call it like you see it, darling
But I've already
Drawn my line in your sandy heart.
We're both treading water
In this tumultuous ocean,
Both been tossed
Headlong into tumbling waves,
And I tried to
Throw you my life vest,
But you floated by
On something else,
And here am I,
Drowning in disbelief.