Here you see a man and a hand
A reflection of opposing forces
What is and what should never be
An unhealthy, God-awful endorsement

Afflictions corrode from within
Stone-fixed in self preservation
A shattered temple confined
Or anew flower creation

To live, love and be loved
Surrounded by color and contentment
To be lost in the shadows
The wrong side of saturation

Cracked,  battered, distorted and beaten
Shattered a mirror that opened a window
Shaped, fixed, filed and finished
Broken a bond revolved around no

A torn life set in stone
Here lies what are us
A life that should have never been
Metamorphosis of Narcissus.

you remind me of the first time i saw fireworks

you remind me of things i thought i loved
a purple bunny called Hoppy
a heater on a cold morning
every Alleluia chorus
every Sunday morning.

you remind me of the sun, the moon, the stars,
how i thought i loved them all
and how i thought
they were
so beautiful

you remind me
of songs i used to sing
when i was very young
and
all those fleeting feelings of
what i thought was
untethered joy

oh my love, oh my world,
i never loved till you.

Silence
When the heart stops beating, the lungs stop breathing
The footsteps, they are no more
Hands no longer snap, clap, wave
Vocal chords no longer vibrate
Mouths no longer twist these vibrations to word
Laughter is gone, as are the tears
Sobs, they are no more
Noses, no longer blown
A conspiratorial whisper is history
Teeth rest still in the cold
Dead.

It's been 19 hours
  and I think I've finally ****** away
  the ***** I drank while giving you shots of water
  so you wouldn't get sick
I thought maybe you were too drunk to notice
but I guess you weren't because you smiled
at me with a sincerity I can't come close to describing

It's been 19 hours
  but the wrenching pain in my stomach
still hasn't gone away.

       and in the airport today
I bought a bottle of water and some pepto bismol
and as I handed her my debit card,
   the cashier asked me
             if I was heading home
                   and I just
*******
choked
  and I'm talking about the really ******* ugly kind of crying here
   and the poor thing didn't know what she had done wrong but
she told me about her grandfather
         who used to say that crying
         is just your body's way
         of getting rid of the toxins
         and making itself stronger

Its been 17 hours since I last saw you
and I don't know how long it will be
before I see you again
but I really,
            really hope that it isn't too long.

All the wild ones are gone.
Their feral claws and nymphatic strings
Drug through the earth they held so dear and
****** underneath the waves

An Atlantean world of
Great sound and rush of current
A blue land with little breath
****** underneath the waves

Sound goes not from water.

Etymologically,
          paradise
is inherited from the Latin
          paradisus
and the Greek
          paradeisos
and ultimately an ancient Iranian root --
          pairi daêza.

In theory, paradise is a religious term. By that definition, paradise is a place in which existence is positive, harmonious and timeless. It is conceptually a counter-image of the miseries of human civilization; in paradise, there is only peace, prosperity, and happiness.
It’s absurd, though, how we provide ourselves with such a convenient idea, a carrot for all mankind to share in our relentless drive towards death. It’s absurd that we must rely on such nonsensical ideals to inspire us to adhere to literal, arbitrarily-dictated morals. “Thou shalt not do things we say you probably shouldn’t.
Except sometimes.”
“Actually, whenever, as long as you feel bad about it and spend a moment kneeling quietly and thinking something along the lines of ‘So, like, sorry -- my bad. It won’t happen again, unless it does.’”
The fundamental mistake here is attempting to delineate the existence of Man with an old book and relentless propaganda and childhood indoctrination and threats of post-mortem punishment, but more on topic -- why can’t one just live the right way without this kind of artificial motivation? It’s a juvenile concept that we’ve taken much too far. It marginalizes the human race -- “listen, Man, if you eat all your broccoli, then you can have dessert.” But what happens in this situation, when the dessert isn’t real?
What I mean to say is that maybe you should eat your broccoli because it’s healthy, and because, besides what society has attempted to instill in you, it might actually be tasty if you give it a chance.
Live for now. Care about people now. Because you don’t get anything afterwards; however cynical it may be, dessert is just a cold grave or a flame designed for whole incineration of your being. Paradise is now.

Where do I begin?

Should it be at the height of fog hours,
doping up infallible images of affection,
among sifting smugness,
end over end in my sun-stroke mind?

Should it be it all tore down from closed doors,
every imperfection, every cyst, reworked by
some sort of Mortician,
consumed by grandeur for his practice?

Or should it be at the exact
moment
that all was realized– astuteness to
how fragile every meter of my unused offal really is?

Second to sick second, and day to well day,
all woven itself into a tapestry thats harder and harder to recall

Sew the squares, and caress the texture with tips of printless fingers
Each inch calls– no, howls –out into the basin where I sit

Howls of pain
                                 howls of stone
howls of criticism
                               howls of analysis
ripping through the brail that's sung to the bone

Tell to beg, where do I begin?