Someday someone
will love me like they do in the summer
even when the snow falls.

You are only as beautiful
As the scent of your soul;
And gasoline can't seem to light any fire
But your own.
Wrapped up in twine tighter then your grip,
Pull the string, I'll spin fast enough to forget your face
Again.
One, two, three spokes and sticks
To scrape the cornea of a third eye,
Barely wide enough to see freckles on your face.
Painting sidewalks red with chalk
To hide blood from Christmas morning,
Ignoring every warning;
Do you think leaves brown and fall to die without a meaning?
Palms up, veins sprawled,
Come inside and prove yourself to the rusted copper sign on my spine,
Warning of a fine line.
Splatter spatter dots and scrapes
On the white wall beneath a triangle window,
Crossing a bridge you swore you'd ignore
Back to the soles of my shoes.
Red white and black or blue,
What's it matter when my bones and blood are no longer bruised.
And it doesn't make sense why we don't hold hands,
And why we can't help singing the words to our least favorite songs.
Today I heard you breathe,
Saw you bleed and slam a fist on the table,
Because for every flower that wilts and dies,
A secret garden dances ballet toward torn petals,
Blooming blue from red.

I. Gray

In the dim light of the dusk
fading through the sky
an exhibit on a canvas:

a single strand of graying hair.

The arcane gallery housed
by the serpentine lake of memories.

What an awful lot of balderdash
shrieks an elderly gentleman ahead.

What a masterpiece, I think.
A masterstroke, in fact: just a strand

stuck like a line across the canvass,

this is it: time is catching up.
mortality comes calling
in pieces and strands.

II. Red

What embers, my dear, lie concealed
beneath those heaps of burned
logs deposited in your soul?

Waters healing were poured out
ages ago: was the love

too diluted, that even now the gale winds

of raging events bring those embers
burning from your depths?

I can see them burning in your eyes.

III. Black

Oh his gulf between you and me.
That you carry what is of me
before and hold what is
after I am of the ashes,
I know, in your oceanic vasts
bloom our fleeting island lives.

But what were you, before
you were of flesh? Did Aleph
bring you forth too? Tell me
friend, for this is my quest,
my mortal angst at finding you
nailed on the cross above: or
I must be a necromonger.

Are you the one who does not exist
as we know, or are you who also exists
as we can know: what are you?

That blood flows on this earth pondering
on this question.

In this is concealed the answer
to the question raised by that strand.

Tav is not the answer. Nor is it in the cross.

I am a serial killer of pure inhibitions
Innocence of blind minds are my trophy's
I left you all to die
And lived long enough to see myself become the villain
It was cruel
To force maturity upon happy children
And nobody will ever know how Evil I really am

Winters back to remind me I loved you
In every patch of ice
Summers back to swap the tide
Of my eyes
And change reflection to deception in the sea that turned our bodies to trees
Floating as simply as regret on the tip of a tongue too timid to change its mind
I don't mind, I swear.
Tell me again how the flowers bloomed before August
And have since withered to stone
But eighty seven rib cages cant form a single heart
Each piece of glass slammed on your skull remains in my top drawer
Just in case I decide to piece you back together
And form from red a sky of grey
The birch on the tree left stomachs in knots so
Why not
change the song on the radio again,
Just in case the next one doesn't remind me of you
But it seems to haunt shoulders stroking my neck as softly as birds released from the cage of my shoulder blades
You live in cartoon houses
Beside plastic covered floors
And shield leaves with newspaper
Just to fill the space
between me and you.
There is a blood stain on my floor I can't seem to scrape
And your shirt is in my closet
Beside the window shattered to grain as small as bone
Somewhere between a metal and a base I found your fingertips tapping my leg
But you took it with you when you left
And now I can't walk to the window and watch you cry every Tuesday.
The rope burns you splintered
On the corners of my eyes reminded
I should have known you didn't mean it
When grass formed in the cracks of your lips because
All things go
Except the smell of sweat on my bed,
tears like dew on the petals of my cheeks
And the sea I gave my soul to.
Salt remains to evporate eventually
Along with thoughts of you so
I stayed up debating if the sky was simply a piece of black paper freckled silver
And if you ever felt the grass between your toes
But all things fade with sunrise.

You can't break a heart that isn't healed from the last set of eyes.
A reminder from the moon to the stars
It's never too late for something beautiful
To fall from the sky
Into the palm of your hands.
There is a place across a river
Where the East meets what's west,
And all the children wait with bandages for cut wrists to heal in the sun before it sets.
I have a fear of setting in stone
Because you can only stare at the sun for so long
Before beauty and light causes tears.
Nothing beautiful,
Like an angel in the snow
Remains forever,
And I'm stuck in time
Because there's something going around the room
That I've avoided well so far
But a bird can't fly forever and neither can my heart
I have to fall at some point
Into someone one else's sun.