Chaos is an empty room
with everything having a sneaking semblance of shape
you could reduce it all to a notion
that begs everything to form
I wish we had gotten god right
people want to agree on goodness
so much they become less than ideal
I am less
and less
real
every time I speak
because it's impossible for you to know what inspired
my meaning
in goodness that can be agreed upon
only when made whole
in form
and substance
like dreams
where the doing is also the goal
Heaven and Hell have only
made appearances in our neck of the cosmic wood
still, we invent axes to keep ourselves warm
and hold to both paradise and perdition
existing elsewhere

i remember when someone kissed my hipbones last:
it was years ago, in the dark.
you don't know now how long it's lasted,
like a disease eating away at the bone
where the sweet warmth of kisses should be.
i miss the way you pulled me to your core,
yet your hands were hooks,
puncturing me
"catching me"
like stealing a fish from the place where it is free,
only to cut its head off,
scale it,
filet it,
until it's easy to eat.
i'm in a bed like a net that has protected me
from falling into a canyon of fear,
drowning in its tumultuous rivers
which beat me against rocks.
when i can sleep again
maybe i'll find someone else to join me,
someone who will let go when their kisses are dry.

I was never an artist,

I was the athlete-

so said my mother and sister.

This meant I ran faster,

kicked harder,

ran away but came home

only to find you

hanging that noose.

I was 9 years old

and I saw you in the dusted

garage.

I saw you standing on that

stool.

Is that what you wanted?

Were you trying to prove

a ******* thing?

Did you want nothing

to do with your

two precious daughters?

Did you want your cheating

husband to turn around

and beg for forgiveness

and tell you that he loved you?

yeah, I was 9 and

I opened that door and

saw that noose around  your neck.

I screamed ****** ******

and fell to my knees.

Please mama! No!

She cried and stepped

down.

She ran to her bedroom

and I followed screaming.

All I remember from that night

was daddy leaving us all behind

one of many times.

Phyyt phoo, two aqueous lenses peeling through, the oxygen layers.
Pupils turn as they unfold, hungrier for light behind burnt sand barriers.
The switchboard like a carnivorous plant field independently moves points
And compacted, segmented panels respond like exoskeletal joints
There come the staccato screams of steam one at a time, puff, lining the door  
Capsule, contaminated with air, is cleaned when the beetles wing lifts the floor
The boy I was, offers a raised thumb from the ground, science disciple
With Helium fission equations on a sheet hanging from a bible.
My eyes behind a visor open slowly, it’s time to take control
Still tears slowly lift from my face like a violin bow rising to sing low
Now in a place where time means nothing I can’t regret a thing
I just wish this clinical empty cold on all, to take the warmth that lies bring
With Creaking myofibril strings so imperfect in this black vacuum dream
I shake the hand of god; with polystyrene gloves as his work is so unclean.

On my skin I wear the bands of shielded sun.
Commitment to the heart makes this skin colour run.
With one liberal hand, I tear down these branches being hung,
to shower in yellowed leaf confetti.

These forest roots ran like hair line skull fractures,
under canopies blooming red from the sunlight rapture
and now these trees leave their taller brothers to fall as ashes,
with ivy on my ankles, stifling hope up to my chin.

Living memories, my forest sheltered, scrambled for home;
small pretty beasts, unrefined, breathing caricatures with bones.
Screaming they beg for attention, inattentive to this situation as a whole.
Our own view is all we can consider.

This house of cards built on paper-cuts, from the trees before.
I'm now growing wiser to my winter freeze and your summer thaw.
I need all of these things I hate about me, and they can never be ignored;
a psychological pre-disposition, the only one I can afford.

He chews his cud at her.
She blows her cigarette smoke at him.
The equilibrium is uncomfortable but scenic.
The eyes of the walls stained yellow long ago
and every room feels like every room they've ever been in.

He rubs his shirt neck on his nose.
She flicks her last molar irritated.
a broken radiator works overtime, wheezing.
Holes in the bread, where she cut away the mould,
the food's still cold, but, for this, he'll eat it.

He never loved her personality.
She never loved his face.
Both of them knew, for this, they'd never leave them.
She says "I do ******* love you you know",
as she smoked her last blow.
He says "I'd love another cup of tea dear".

Was it the race to be my own entity that launched the first probe?
Curious and wandering what happens to the soul,
Where magic meets reality and the engineer of all things,
Resting at the birth of childhoods end.

With a spaceship ride to heavenly tides towards the event horizon
Born in the skin an astronaut spins deeper into the night,
To find what was and what is and will everything be alright?

Just to sink further in the hope to send
A message to the father.
There's no place like home and in the unknown
Can feel like a memory shattered,
It's a galaxy made of dead star things that build a life of matter.

Imprinting herself around me
   a tenderly etched embrace
Integrity of heart and soul
   intact, time shan't erase

A scarab if a beetle
   a nova if a star
An amulet of conviction
   pulsing light from afar

My hand is open to her
   my life freely given
To be loved simply by loving
   ancient wisdom recently rewritten