The smell of *** lingers
on my damp skin
as I sit silently on the porch,
watching as the ashes of the
burning cigarette in my hand
disappear into the wind.

I take another drag,
the smoke veiling
my face as I exhale.

I discard the spent Marlboro
and continue to stare into
the indecipherable blackness.

It is during times like this
I become inherently aware
of how alone I really am.

We need to be careful with our hearts.
Being reckless and sneaking out onto rooftops is fun.
And touching each other's skin is fun.
But being reckless with a heart is just cruel.
For the both of us.
Because in the long run we don't really have each other.
We just have now.
And what will happen when now passes?
Where will that leave us?
Friends.
Lovers.
Strangers.
I'd like to think that in a year passing you on a street will bring warm feelings.
Nothing bad.
But heartbreak can change people.
Being reckless is fun.
But it hurts.
We need to be careful while we're being reckless.

I have always loved the darkest tales,
those Grimm stories of old.
Lives not lived lightly.
Lives in despair.
The constant desire for gold.
Lost in the forest.
Locked in a turret.
Left behind on the road.
Abandoned to all the
Wild Beasties there,
Witches, Ogres and Toads.
What becomes of those innocent babes
as each tale unfolds?
Some end up happy.
Some end up dead.
Some we shall never know.

i still try to remember
to take my boots off
at the door

my feet are wet
from walking in the rain

i leave laetoli footprints
on the pine floor
-like the first man

trying to walk upright
but can't seem to
get it straight

There's a lot of empty space
in a house
so full of quiet

wishing for thunder.

r ~ 9/5/14

Sometimes less is more,
When more threatens
To become too much.

Afflictions of the past
wrapped in the world of chaos
and cramped in a cave

i have always had
an unparalleled fascination
for the human body.
human anatomy to me, it seems
draws me in
like a moth to a candle.
it mesmerizes me,
to see drawings of phalanges and metacarpal bones,
all covered
like a secret lover
by smooth, knitted skin.
romeo, where art thou?
tracing pictures of the aorta and veins and arteries, i hope-
the sensual twists and turns of a capillary should fill the page.
let me bask in deltoid and trapezius muscles,
make my way to the clavicle.
let the beauty of the fragility and the strength of bodies,
divine and heaven-sent,
engross me for the decades to come:
to admire and enchant and enthral;
to hold spellbound and captivate and always intrigue me.