If you want to hear a secret
life isn't quite identical
anymore
the past is very long gone
today is an adventure
it's bizarre
waking up with rug burns
not certain what went where
and it's ok
if one person is a disappointment
leaves you hanging
and you feel unwanted
because many others can't even fathom this mentality
wouldn't comprehend
and yet
the ones you trust
want to believe in
can be irresponsible
and thus
life is strange
and it has no pattern quite yet
that isn't one hundred percent perfect

after writing this poem
out of a trance
was hypnotized by your tongue--
the words dripping off
like a wolf eying its prey.

     You smile, confident.

Your mischievous eyes dance
with mine,
we wink like serpents.
The sound of our heartbeats
pierce each other's third eye
as we approach,
our brains separated
by seconds
our noses a quick inch apart--
our thoughts are spiritually carnal.
We move like Zui Quan**
and we touch like the wind
tickling every crevice of our skin.
Our lips shotgun smoke--
I want to breathe poetry
inside of you.

My first thought was you

after writing this poem
out of a trance
was hypnotized by your tongue--
the words dripping off
like a wolf eying its prey....

I can          h ea r
a      dream,
( ( (vibrating) ) )
through my third e y e

      echoes   dan c e
from the walls,
a    l i g h t   passes
through   the prism
that         encases--
      the heart.

                              \i|o|u/
                            he tells me
                     yet I expect nothing.
                more of the same patterns

Every thing       is
a good omen,
so whispers the air
outside a bar of Narnia.

             The banana bread beer flows
              through
                      our glasses like an amber
                 whirlpool tsunami glistening in the afternoon light.
                  a pleased smile rests on a face,
             comfort,
        relaxation and a
      full mind.

Deep sleep
for a while.
Contentment is *exhaled.

Don't cry in the whisky baby
I am an alcoholic highlight reel
mostly made from concentrated
      words--
I'll quit when I'm ready
for all kinds of art
vibrating love venom,
and words like love--
         I can't seem to agree with authority.
My ankle indicates some sprain or tweak.

There's plenty of beer in the fridge,
I am not going to *** my pants ever again
like a **** and bottle of bourbon.
            Thanks, I'm full
but parents never cared.
The road is litered--
the marrow ****** from their veins everyday
and the gypsy whisper of "why are we?"
is in my heartbeat.
There it went, frolicking through the midnight sky
like a car wreck,
haunting, like the song "Scarborough Fair."