Encased castles wouldn’t hear
what might have been
or a promise of immediate loss.  
When thank you becomes like raindrops
falling from the cost.

So I will say
the sun forever rises
because it was torn away
from the bones of an amber moon.
Until the day my face is woven
into what is mine, just not too soon.

Just think about what you do
when you want to be alone,
of course not because
you are broken.  
Let it go and become framed
with the tears of a family unspoken.

Reflect what is understood
and let it go
like a language of chills
contained in every second of surprise.
Then thunder from those encased castles
can be seen in my eyes.

My love
like smoke pouring
from the tip of your cigarette
immensely alluring
and undoubtedly noxious.

My Dear who's come through winter
Growing with soft roughness
How you have become my kiss,

The pressing of my heart within
my breast,
And the pushing of my breath.

Oh Dear your hands are small
And move into my hands
With smallness, their pale beauty.

Dear, in Winter, who is dying,
You are life made skin and health;
Your lips are always playing
With softness as their wealth.

(Alive)

and again
i am here


dreaming

of somewhere
(withyou)–

alive         –

and

d
  r
e    a
m i n

    g.

keep these hands alive in your hands; that they walk and breathe; that their skin becomes downy in the spring, and from them spears love-roots of dark grass, filling over the hills and meeting with the excellent night their shining bodies.

live, love and smell the rich perfume of your lovers hips; meet and again touch with them your cheeks, and delight in them–the coil of their heap.

they are with your body, and to touch another's is a great privilege–and i know it.

wander and know the nape of them; laugh and extend your blood into their own.

invite their inspirations into your own breast, and make with it one respiration.

they are cool and wonderful between the ears; they are soft laughter and stupid giggling; they are the arcuate sleep of a rose thorn–deeply within your skin.

know and love them.

hold not back your laughter, nor praise, nor joy in their clutch.

touch, ramble, delight in the visceral perfusion of their mouth and kiss.

1486

Her spirit rose to such a height
Her countenance it did inflate
Like one that fed on awe.
More prudent to assault the dawn
Than merit the ethereal scorn
That effervesced from her.

My skies are sponged in soft grey
water-pressed, water folded
water borne.
Anon, I have only ever been remembered in this way:
When the light is wan.
But I promise you, more than
the sky now promises a hopeful sleep
I will love you beyond hills and houses
Beyond clay, which melts in the rain
My love is a kiln, I am caught in the
hearth with you
And now if I was thrown,
I would be shattered instantly.
But I can stand a thousand days of rain
I can hold under high heat
I am glossy earthenware
Finer than any diamond or gold nugget
I will nourish, comfort, and warm you
I will love you such.

Sun kissed skin
I once kissed
Shudders beneath
New fingertips

I'm about as certain as I am tall
On how people decipher lovely distractions from lovely investments
I hate to speak on what I don't know
I walk up walls to avoid vomiting words my mind holds
The same ***** will end up being slurred to someone who couldn't care less
The same ***** will end up on my socks if this turns into the kind of night I thought that it would be when I declared, "I see how this night is gonna go" as soon as those shots made it down my throat and I still felt indifferent. Just more blurred.
I never say things are finished because that must mean they're good enough and that just seems wrong to me
We're never strangers after we've met
Just encounters that have lost touch
I hate giving up because that must mean I've given it all I've got
I think that keeps me passing time lately
Instead of spending it.
I hear that incomplete things often end up alone
I should probably consider a good investment sometime.