I've dug this up from the gravel of my being,
felt this sediment,
scraped through all the layers
to find small scattered bones.
owl puke.
that's my softness,
that's childhood
               and
           a reason for wanting to destroy it.

enough fire wood
enough energy
then
too much energy
                                and
the lights go out.

a contribution of what you learned that day fed to you at the dinner table.

coffee eyes dreamed about good mornings,
sugar kisses his lips, his eyes,
his cheeks
stomach,
legs,
papered skin layered in dreams.

dreams of
                   gold shedding from the sky,
words painted beneath the flesh,
              eyes shut to see what's inside.

how are you going to see what's outside if your eyes are always shut?

Here is forever,
Because we are so duly noted,
As members of what
The layman calls Earth,
But the preacher calls “Kingdom.”
And I call Home.

Ferocity is something unfamiliar,
And yet,
So normal.
It’s not something I tend to access,
But when I do, I really seem to enjoy the startled look on your face.
I’m much more that you ever thought to ask about.

My philosophy is one of apathy.
But, Apathy is what we must destroy.
So, I take my shimmering blade to its throat,
And with one slice, Blood fountains.
How much more Beautiful can a being become?

You and I shall be warriors,
Set on the righteous path of
Holy Destruction.
“This land is the land of Shiva,
Greatest destroyer,
And Black Kali stands above him triumphant,
She is bathed in the blood of mortals,
And yet, I see past the red stains to the tormented heart,
Of a tender wolf. “

“A killer. But, never taught different.
Spilling the blood of the innocent,
But lacking the understanding
Of the sacredity of life. “

Breathe love, my darling.
Breathe love, and exhale deadly monoxide.

“Hello World!”
said timid David,
wrapped in ecstasy.

“If I were to love you,
I would tell you of the flowers
That you would receive
Each February.
But, I’m sorry to admit,
That that’s not quite my bag.
I much prefer to tell you myself,
So the florist be ******.”

David wraps his arms around his arbitrary name.
Love is simple.
Why can’t peace be the same?
We must all ask why we take the sour cynicists into account.
How much can they really represent,
If they’re too busy ******* on my (your) rhetoric?

The layman would ask me to not use my own terminology,
But how can I explain this in terms other than the immortal that I hold dear?
Number 5, number 5, how you suit me so well.
You’re complete, but odd.

Estranged from his or her thoughts,
One must act with swift conduct.
I can’t imagine the consequence of a slower martial artist.

And thus, we make our way to the martial arts,
Dear Reader (that’s you, and I love you, very , very much).
But, let us ignore the subtleties of Tai Chi.
Because, I’m rather drunk, and couldn’t perform
Even if I really wanted to.
Actually, I don’t know that.
Neither do you.

This is my lament.
And my love.
Transcribed in simple English.
“Thank the Gods for *****!”
I yell, with complete sincerity!
This is newness,
Not like the monotony of burning Earth!
My tolerance is at a standstill.

Tolerance
Is what we use an excuse
To be less intoxicated that we actually are.
Toughness incarnate, isn’t it?
Dear Reader? (Much love, by the way.)

ink taped and glued
seeping through my bulges.
I'm just not going to eat for a week.

pages ripped and burning
smoke billowing in my lungs.
I'm just not going to sleep.

taking a break
from everything

trying to break
habits

these
bees
hide
in
hives,
in
piles,
of
honey.

from one queen to another:
it's okay if you **** me.

motionless pull up and drag
sick leans on my bones and up through them,
I look at something else and see death

sitting plainly
not even twenty feet away
quietly seeing back at me,
seeing only black and feeling only what I feel

you’re next to me and a minute later you see it too
and as with you, you see it as something else
you get up, “let me show you that.”
stride, as you do, to its side and as if it were truly a thing,
pick it up
stride back to me and turn it over and over in your hands
and I am shuddering in your affections
my clear reproaching eyes
are adoring you

oh, solemn and before I can think again
I am moving away and seeing in reverse the things I saw when
I was about to see you
the sky is opening up for me
I am flying with the sun
but you’re fading out,
sleeping radio static
becoming still
and I am finding it difficult to remain in motion

fragile cloud streaks
stroked by summer's dried brush
sunlight is September
sky - sauce unmixed
the damage that was
back in tornado alley
can not be fixed
but will always be missed

back in the day
when our heads were rocks
and our hearts were origami
we shot arrows through moleskins
and used wanderlust
as our compass
heatwaves
to sweat out
sadness and fuss
chest echoes
to drown out doubt
and reinforce it

today,
my boy downloaded manhood
through his contact lenses

standing on the edge of a bridge
meet me before I jump.

I've got to get out of this apartment.
the carpet is too clean, I have to take off my shoes.

company? nope.

I'll drowned out the music
with fingers in my ears
head under water, trying not to float.

grass stains
I need to run away.

contact? nope.

trip me up,
cut me loose,
keep me cute.

mmmm.

all I need to say.

mmmm.

brilliance has judgment
unsure of what's too far.
must slow
to a crawl
push your nose
to the ground
close your eyes
drop your limbs
eat cement.

it's early
my voice is harsh
the words come
easier than you do
but there is much
more venom
than that of a
snake.

you're a pearl in
my food
seeping through
my skin
you've brightened my day
all crimson in ways more than natural
and I try not to pay attention to the thoughts that
come without warning, without real meaning,
just striking with sharp teeth
the people that I love, it's always harder when you don't realize you're doing it.
instinct.
thrashing.
inside.
my.
veins.

I'll dance faster
shed some weight
remove myself
return myself
recycle myself
and weigh my actions
through heavy stones
and heavy lids
impossible to lift.

like butterfly caskets
or thin skin you clung
across when you saw how
fast it was expanding,
hide your fear
and they wont look for you
hide your beauty
and they wont look at you
just be you
and you'll be the one looking
because the hunt is far better
than being the prey.

to be the prey is a lamb's chase
and just in case you forget to
bring rope, I've got some tangles
you can hold onto. my heart veins,
they're solid and flowing with the stimulation
of snow.
white,
cold and fresh.
soft,
mold-able.
flesh,
I can't control myself.
warmth,
I'm buried, you're a carrier of shovels,
you dig me big
holes. put
yourself
in them.

feel the exasperation  of waking up
waking upwakingup waking
up but you're falling, up,
waking, up, and you're hallucinating
because your REM is still rolling, and
you're waking, just
waiting to release, to release,
to release
release.

you're in my heart
over the phone
trying to find ways
not to be alone
yet your tone has me ringing
and I want to take back what I said
because I don't know what the words I say are really meaning.

you've paid for me
no attention
simply pocket change
limitations.

not every word that breathes through me is recent,
or so much relevant as lessons.
some insights bury themselves, but I'm digging through what feels like sand.
I find it's better to live
and enjoy.
wait for the rain, and the drought, and the dry cracked peeling
to reveal what takes a second look, because one is not enough,
and if you only read it once, it wont carve into your skin,
you've got to scratch with the same tone as fluid movement
to understand the unbreakable stare of closeness that our flesh takes.