Oil slicks of sweat and grease are pushed up to the forehead in afterthought
Depressions under your eyes and cheeks are murky and dark and deep
made from too many days and nights
in a purgatory hell waiting for slumber
Mumble through the spit, you salivate at the idea of a thought
Your skin makes a scraping noise when you move and
broken-off hair lies in your hands,
blood is caked on your skin and nails and teeth
from a ferocity I cannot control or understand and
where did all these
scabs
scabs
scabs come from?
peeling and picking and flicking them off
undoes the perfectly sized wrappers on the wounds
and you are rawer than the day you were made

yelp and gulp, open your maw,
then scream as loud as you can
for as long as you can until
you are raw and rotten from the inside out

The day my eyes opened to the true life that I live was not the day most call birth

My minds true birth into this world came through my realization of what God truly is

God is love, love is light, and light is me
And I will forever more be a small light of God on a huge spectrum of the magnificence that is this world

When you find the light and love of God in yourself, you then find the light and love in others

You can look at someone and see their light shining within their soul

And finding true love is just the realization that the person you are looking at is not only a wonderful and beautiful life in itself but also that their light is nothing more than the exact reflection of your light as well

Once you have come to that realization, then you will realize that your love and the light of your life was never in question, only that you had yet to see it for yourself

And the light that emits itself from the both of your souls combined is what keeps the world turning, and the wind blowing

It's the brightest light that you may ever come to see

The truest love, in the truest form to be witnesses by the hearts that have opened themselves up to such a light will bask in it's wonderful rays and praise it

...because that love is nothing more that God in his most beautiful form

The spring is fresh and fearless
   And every leaf is new,
The world is brimmed with moonlight,
   The lilac brimmed with dew.

Here in the moving shadows
   I catch my breath and sing—
My heart is fresh and fearless
   And over-brimmed with spring.

These words slip through my lips like a sharks fin
Condemning me to troubled waters
The disease acts like a doctor
A treatment to weeping
An emotion dripping in
Chasing me to the deep end
Time passes as nights bloom
Into an ocean for the stars
Diving, dipping in.

Her parted lips
awake in a sleeping city
And time again drifted away
the hurt of memory along for the ride
Her spine curved over
Tracing the letters of a prayer
Whispered
Collected in my eyes
Injected in my mind
a changing sincerity
her inspiration
Sprinkled across the dark
Of the city’s reflection
We won’t miss a thing.

A gesture's worth a thousand words,
intimations of the body articulate:
my gas-passing interrogatives,
your inquisitive belches, remember?

At first, such unspoken jokes seemed crude,
though useful. So we refined them,
and from trees at night mock owl-calls homed you in.
Do you remember eyebrows, intelligent as lips?

In time, I developed tics, snarls, an expert shrug,
a professional groan. And I grew to resent
your sighs, your phony, irritated coughing fits,
the critical commentaries of your silences.

You held my face so I couldn’t look away
Your words so achingly innocent
I couldn’t help but believe you
Nothing was more real than your dreams
Following the streets
We look for change
But never kept our inspiration
The lights had dimmed over time
It’s a ****** lullaby
Losing yourself to the wings of desire
You’ve lost your concentration
You’re losing your subtle charms
Looking through your imagination like a kaleidoscope
Mixing and matching the world
So real it kills your senses
Ends the devotion flashing in your eye
The skin of the drum
Pounding to keep you alive
You’re waiting to forget
The devastation of your last cigarette
The flooding of an argument
Against my reason
These are the nightmares
That you wouldn’t believe

She stayed up past dawn to make **** sure that the sun rose again.
He stayed up till the next day to make sure it would go down again.

Midnight is the high noon for the impulsive, they want this night right now.
When they both rise from the east,
they might regret it
they might not
They'll be exhausted, will they be exhilarated?
They've seen something others might rarely do, if ever, and for some never.
They'll see how our stars are someone else's sun on their someday or Sunday.
They've seen the horizon become the furious fiery frontier of a madman's dream.

I pull my hair out
I punch my legs
I teach myself how to scream
and think, "calm down. this isn't you."

how long have you been inside?
because I'm just now noticing you.

**** my mind of my
own self gouging.
Bitter work.
I'm too lost.
(not lost enough).