I met a void the other day
He speaks in stutters and rolls his tongue
Talks in slang, then ambles away

And later when I pondered him I wondered
Why both sides of my pillow are soiled
And my journal tastes of salt

I lace these minions with my love
Pull each apart
Too occupied to face my bare heart

So littered and heated with old despair
And for as long as he cares
The void is there.

I sit and swallow
Shards of panic
Follow follow
Lines of manic

Count to ten
Count to two
Flash of happy
Think of you
My ribs collapse
Soul relapse

The exhale's sharp
Jabs my heart
But I take a swig
And push the start

So I sit through life
Here I stay
Knowing everything I've had
I've thrown away.

Tonight I watch us bloom,
With you
Stuck in the rhyme of time
We gather, and we sit,
Sublime
Not every moment tastes so still
No essence of tension, so we
Wait for the new battle to instill
But while we wait? Let's
Celebrate in quiet
And study the color
The texture in each others' eyes like we're
Soulmates, dizzy and tired.

The fire doesn't hide inside us
It's about the air, it's
Everywhere
Devotion combs its fingers through our hair
Lust curls up,
And falls asleep
In our laps and at our feet
And we sit, our bodies absorbant
******* in warmth for the next time it's
Cold
These times here with you never last forever
But if they did
Wouldn't they get old?

The dream I had about you
Was meaningless and weird
It wasn't odd and it rang true
It wasn't what I feared

The dream I had about you
Is fuzzy
Is unclear
I don't know what was happening
All I know is you were here

Yes, I had a dream about you
And from it
There isn't much to say
But I woke up and I cried because
I miss you anyway.

My senses are extremity
The air is all I taste
It's gritty wise and patient
No inhale goes to waste

My senses are impeccable
My ears will leech the sound
Of a parking car
A healing scar
The growing in the ground

My senses overwhelm me
And touch is what remains
But we can touch eachother because
I know you feel the same.

I will be your listener and follower and friend
Let's brace this narrow slanting hope
Why can't we reach the end?

I will be a lover and a half of every choice
I'll be your biggest listener
When you have lost your voice

I will be allowing and aloof and so alone
Because your love,
Though fleeting,
Was the best I've ever known.

It's riskier than you might think
To mention skin as being "pink"
To a girl that's tried to wash away
The hopeless thought of being gray

Orange is such a pleasant tone
On clothes and walls and college dorms
And lamps,
And fruit,
But coating the pigment of someone's arms?
That's okay,
It's not me they're trying to charm


But it's curious...
Why be afraid?
Of the Sun's
"Terrible",
"Damaging",
"Harmful" rays?
But if skin is preferred oily and white
It's not me who judges for a ghostly sight

But I
As a child of the Sun,
As is everyone,
I could run to and from
The beach
And never bleach
Or dye
A piece of me
Because I know it will reach every crease of me and kiss
My skin,
So warm with bliss
And let the embrace
Brush the plains of my face
And over my skin I let it graze
And leave just a taste of summer's glaze.

As a sea wishes it could see
A bee longs for more to be.
And I wish to meet the eye
Of every passing passerby

A waist that wants to waste away
The monster that prays for every prey
The one that wishes it could have won
A nose that knows,
A toe that tows
The burden of an ode I've always owed.

Sublime
On time
But never late.
It hovers, waits
It relocates
It destroys the butterflies it creates.
Time will tell
What stays the same
But love's outcomes
Are never sane.

TWO loves had I. Now both are dead,
And both are marked by tombstones white.
The one stands in the churchyard near,
The other hid from mortal sight.

The name on one all men may read,        
And learn who lies beneath the stone;
The other name is written where
No eyes can read it but my own.

On one I plant a living flower,
And cherish it with loving hands;      
I shun the single withered leaf
That tells me where the other stands.

To that white tombstone on the hill
In summer days I often go;
From this white stone that nearer lies
I turn me with unuttered woe.

O God, I pray, if love must die,
And make no more of life a part,
Let witness be where all can see,
And not within a living heart.