and all of my demons?
they look just
like
you.

i'm not sure if we
are victims of
circumstance
or blessed by
coincidence

ears spilling rain, water found
when i tilted my head up and tried to listen
at the wrong time, i guess
but hey, i'll listen to your rain
catch it, absorb it, drink it
and shed it through tear ducts like mirrors
reflecting your weather
you don't have to smile, i'll find some way
to light the wet pavement in front of me
that involves no lies, no "i'm fine"
no way that's going to keep my head high anymore

eyes spilling honesty, feelings found
when i opened them all the way
just for a moment, but it was enough
to let something in, something clean
and *****, small but somehow
it filled me right up to the brim

and now i'm spilling over
with four-letter words
care
or ****
because of the fear
or love
because there really is no other word for it

our body the hands let's make between the reeds of deep rivers a widening of our soul and blood will come from their lips into shallow waters the distillation of flowers


                        so heavy with pollen


their heads bow so heavy with pollen their stems bend and meet with bloodandwater




                                     petals,



                                       .
                                         '



                               '



                                                   ;




                                    .

earlier today
i was alone up
on skyline reading
a book by haruki
murakami for
four hours and
the rain came and
went twice with
a rainbow that
would move paces
out against the town
and people moved up and
down the mountain
pausing for a smoke
and leaving with
their windows rolled
up, I cried a couple
times without knowing
why.

"When you scraped your
Paint brush across my canvas,
The acrylics left
Nothing but a beautiful disaster"