Ive been reconstructed so many times
I dont even know who I am anymore.
My body is dead
My heart is dead
My broken insides are all thats left.
So how do I deal with that?
You ripped apart all the good parts of me,
Poked holes into what was sacred.
Changed everything I believed in.

As Baudelaire said:
"Be always drunk,
on wine, poetry, virtue"
or what-have-you.
And after sobering
from aurelian dawns
and whiskey-drenched stars,
I find solace in tipsiness
on irreverent magic eyes
from the bottom of a margarita
or a paint-stained enigma
from behind a glass of red.
Slowly, carefully, languidly,
Quietly.
Flirting with possibilities
of being drunk once more.

My friend reminds me of summer
He smells of fresh cut grass
And clean air
A mosaic
Blue sky and clouds
Wildflower meadows
Cold running streams

He is warm and musical
Kind and funny
But his eyes are sometimes sad

He has the biggest heart
And tries and strives to be and do
So much for so many
He often forgets to account for himself

I think there is a hole
Deep inside
His heart seeks to fill
And somedays he is lonely
Even when he is not alone

He gives the best hugs
and tells the best jokes

He is patient when I am an idiot
Which sometimes is a lot
He is kind when I am afraid
Which happens more
Than I like to admit

He is just as mortal and vulnerable
As anyone else
He doesn’t hide from it
It becomes his strength

He stands boldly
In the face of harsh challenges

alone

Like a superhero or maybe a myth
Few men have the will to try

It’s funny to watch
The people scurry by him
As if
He is untouchable and unknowable
Titles can be a cruel endowment
For people with good hearts

All

I see

When I look at him

Creative passionate soul
Big hearted
Knucklehead
Little boy
Emperor king

A man of complex nature
A man of contrasts

Light and dark and rainbow prisms
Soul and funk and jazz
A perfectly unique recipe
For a man

My friend

One day,
I found myself standing in front
of the ocean
tasting the salty breeze,
hearing the seagulls' shrill cries as they
swooped on the rocks
watching the fiery, plump sunset drown in the horizon,
my feet felt the way forward into cold, heavy currents
my hair whipped around and my face stung with salty tears
I strained my eyes and leaned forward,
scanning the darkening, rushing waves
lapping against each other
in that moment, there were only three things
I yearned for:

the blue in the heart of the ocean
to color my soul

a siren's enchanting, melodic, mournful cries
to put pain in my heart

the emerging, white sea foam of broken dreams and all things forgotten
to envelop my being

and set it free to be lost in the wind.

The snow is thin and pale today
like that girl –
you thought –
from the Home Depot –
the palette of an empty day

I think, instead
to smooth my hand along your arm
extend dominion 'cross your chest
To till the damp ***** of your shoulder
in surging heat
of earthen tones
to find in winter flames
your brow, your cheek, your neck

...your mouth that way...

This is the braille I'm all about
being far-sighted
and just too close
to even focus on you –
your eyes –
and all
the loss
these days