Stories make us who we are
Have to share every instance
That can give someone the slightest hint
Of who you are
God forbid, your words aren't heard
You swore to yourself
That you'd leaving feeling
Strong in your word
With an image to match
But like this little match
That can't light damp heavy wood
Your burning all your energy
To be understood and brought to life
In bright bursts  of fire
But the jobs too big
And the efforts go unnoticed
To all except for the pile of
Matches at the bottom of this pit
Swing and a miss

theres a darkness in my skin
furrowed somewhere deep within
the place thats made when you're really young
where every song and story begun
I could never sing louder
than the yells and the shouts
the fear in my eyes
tried to blur it all out
but my armor was soft
made of light and love
so some of it
seems to of
snuck in
still fighting now
but my army has grown
imagination and life
now stand by my side
and Im no longer alone
and I never will be
ever
so I fight this divide
one foot on each side
but the enemies are advancing
and I cant keep dancing
on two different stages
Im no longer turning
but burning
the pages
of a story that was never mine
expectations in fragments and phrases
go up in the smoke
but this time as they poke
my armor
I smile, slowly
and blow them away
til
there
                 g o n e

Concave
i savor each divet and dive
contrive symbols and words on smooth skin
dusted with faint golden hairs
like archaic scriptures
written before time was a thing
we kept track of
so i dont keep track of
my mind
as these shakes send me into riffs of euphoric bliss
and each grazing touch
brings me closer to the soul
on this journey of self discovery
a trip from which Ill never return
I burn two incense
at the same time
one for Kelly
one for Evangeline
the release flows into one another
as they sweetly invade my permeable mind
tearing it down
til it becomes
ash
soft and sweet
with only recognition of what its burning for
my hands travel more
and i dive deeper within
the soul begins
to escape my pores
wide open doors
this temple is mine
to explore
bones and flesh
the beauty arrests
my attention
and i have never felt a more beautiful being
with each lingering caress
sparks tickle and jest
and there is nothing more that I need
than this endless exchange

a touch a rush flames up my spine engulf and entwine
the fire in his eyes
burns holes through my consciousness, leaving marks where there should have been
space
and now Ive got so much to think about, too much to bring about
freedom.. but the harder I think
the more I hallucinate, thoughts run rampant
cant tell whats real or fake
locked in subliminal utter confusion
bang my fists to break free but only find bruises
all over my body
trapped inside
this skin

devolve
whats it all been for?
frost creeps in
light no more
the warmth that paints your rosy cheeks
is just as fleeting
as a naivete  blush
upon the cheek of a smitten girl
will the blue frills matter
as they burn in flames?
will the lace underlay flatter
your decaying face?
will reality reveal itself to you
on your dying day?
Or will you destroy the clock tower
before it tells you
that your time is up

she was new in town
not from around
but welcomed with open souls
to find a place to let her eyes
close
for a while
a place to cleanse
and re-dispense
the energies where they belong
should've been all along
but she came in time
now sweet clementines
cant even compare to the taste of this feeling
no longer reeling
for a fish thats too big with a line too taut
let go of her rod
and stopped  her fishing
realized that this world is
her water
and she better start swimming
before
she herself
gets hooked on a line
that deceives

archaic lands
heavy sands
the worlds gotten by so long
on so little
so why dont we?
the sun never asks for seconds
or steals the stars
to shine brigher
just like the moon never complains about sharing its light
its a fight or flight
kind of world weve made
this is mine
I found it first
its only a dollar
whats a few more hurt?
all of these things
blind us and bind us
til noone can find us
not even ourselves
yet we cling to the stuff
the this's and that's
because they define us
remind us
of who we are
or want to be
maybe if we set that free
we'd meet ourselves for the first time