I love the way you’re feeling
on me, and everywhere
a winter cold frostbite
playing kisses
in my eyes
instead of this nothing.

I reason your name.

Its’ an argument
about beauty.

It’s silvery fists
of power.

It’s nowhere’s map
A blue page torn
from my fingers

I know you.

I’ve gone all small from outside
and inside, I am giant and cosmic
drifting in and out of my own skin

I respect the silent descent of color
as evening, slinging it’s heavy moon
slouches it’s mood over the sky.

But I am left luminous, just as stars
absorb like spider eyes onto surfaces
a caulk, carved for something sake.

I am unimaginable, all inverted features
swallowed into an uncomfortable skull
smarter than a brain that barks.

There are things to interpret about ghosts
besides their flushed up wail’s of waiting
the ferocious erosion of re-existence.

A blackbird slams into the
glass door and splatters, leaving
red lines across small stained hands.

Eyes fly up
(...I'm so sorry)
flatline.

And before I can speak
the children start to cry.

As if I have been the long a waited
Radiation suffocating,
Patient in bed, empty men around me
Almost perfect now.

You carry your organs beautifully
Smiling wrinkles,
And in your words I can capture
Slideshows of your days
And nights also,
I spin them around in my mind
As I feed on daily doses
Of Ripened morphine
And self pity.

Soon you disappear and with you,
Another light bulb tickles itself
And shatters into darkness.

I meet a skeleton hiding in the depth of my closet,
in nothing but my boots and a satin type corset,
still with her hair(well I’m assuming its a she)
and in her hand holding a special secret for me.

she assumes she knows more
than an average friend may
and to this I am startled,
but don’t give it away,
for what is a skeleton without
a name or a trace?
I mean, I beg your pardon,
get out of my face.

she hung there waiting for me to come by,
knowing that soon id be needing clothes to try,
and I swear she would hang there so happily,
excited at the prospect of alarming me.

and so I am frightened
by the grey of her bones,
by the scent of her flesh,
and the sound of her drones
yet of coarse i smile widely
if not slightly too trying,
at the hope of her secrets
confiding.

what she sais makes me angry but I know she is right,
there’s a dark place inside me that never sees light,
and she managed to find gapes in which to crawl through and sleep,
in-between all the sharp shadows of the feelings I keep,
hidden somewhere inside me that is so close to the grave
that I never look inside it, I’m never that brave.

until it reaches to a time my
secrets comes  to me,
in the form of a skeleton
(unfortunately)
to tell me i should look deep
inside of what’s wrong,
and fill it with
what i knew
All along.