Beauty in still motion.
Eyes unopened.
Move slowly,
crouch lowly,
brush lips,
against your fingertips,
calm down,
you'll be around.
I must leave
can't believe,
roll in the sheets,
until we meet,
it's in my head,
while you're in my bed,
want to cry,
need to pry, my hands away
from the day,
it can all be changed
out of our range.
The mind is deranged.
Can't be blamed,
for the unsaid
and the way I led,
the thoughts and oughts
and now I'm caught in a web
as the undead often are
and the treadmill of moments
in your car
pass
Incessantly,
while you are ******* me.
To my surprise,
I am comprised,
of these feelings
that aren't appealing,
that force my knees to regress
and my heart to stress,
that it's not okay
to have your way
because I can be molded into a flower
that is nice to smell,
But eventually,
fell out of reach

Anything can happen and Anything does
There isn’t a fond memory
where something opposite hasn’t been,
even if that something isn’t yours
The temperate wind that hugs your neck,
meets the dry hands that have already squeezed it
Noticing the altered colors around you,
as you meander through a dimly lit park after dark
reminds you that this isn’t yours
And because it isn’t yours,
there’s going to be someone who wants to take it
Beauty is ubiquitous and so are people,
that doesn’t mean the two ever collide
The eyes want to see the danger
The eyes want to see the one who will take this away
because it belongs to everyone
and we only want it when someone else sees it
That’s how we know it looks good; is good
But, Anything can happen and Anything does
The parental inflicted wound above your right eye
meets the tender care of a hand
that has potential to show you something different
The sullen lace that surrounds the face
of that person who eats alone,
can meet the smile of someone who cared to look
Living,
is revisiting a mirror that doesn’t show you the same image twice We don’t go back to a mirror to see the same thing,
if that were true, why would we need it
We look to see what’s changed
How life disrupted our once groomed hair and tattered our clothes
And life does that!
Nothing is as permanent as the day you  were born

Time and circumstance exposed their twisted bodies,
Not caring to ask if I were ready.
I didn’t ask to empathize or recognize a feeling,
That may be leaving as soon as I taste it.
I didn’t ask to be something the wind could have it’s way with,
Someone that hangs on a word and can be debilitated by a look.
I remember welcoming the ground, in search of pennies on the sidewalk.
The way my granny taught me to.
If I had a care, I didn’t feel it there or where it ought be.
All of my concern was in getting back home,
because my feet grew tired,
and my eyes weary of the sandstone;
I wasn’t ready to not stare at the ground.
Somewhere on the dismembered pavement,
I grew up,
looked up,
to see someone locking eyes on the same track,
something was felt and I cannot give it back.
I wish I could.
This feeling,
that I surely did not inherit,
is not interested in my betterment.
I want to be a grifter.
jingle my cup,
make a quick buck,
and say good luck to any fool who dare give me that stare,
that screams for me to give it back.
Because I won’t.
After the last one who dared,
I can’t say I want to be paired,
Impaired,
lost in a circular pool of equivocations and ambiguity.
Forward not backward,
Trusting that I can trust trust.
Or I can trust the sidewalk,
since it will not cease to be,
like you or her or him or me.
I much rather look for pennies,
knowing they won’t look back.

I feel big.
I am small.
I want to help people.
I push people away.
There is light.
I glow in the dark.
I feel safe.
I am the danger.

  Sometimes I think of this memory I intertwined with reality and my own additions. It can stop time. It can block the sound and blind the sun. It is a good thing this memory does not solely rely on reality. How sad I would feel when the tangible fleets into another realm and takes my pseudo-memory with him. But it is mine because I co-created it and it stops time…sound and those feelings that I tightrope across.
  
This memory makes me part of the whole just for a moment. The tightrope becomes thicker, almost like a rickety bridge to the other side of the precipice, where more decisions will be made.

I am the danger.

Raccoon on my roof
Lift up your feet when you walk
I like you otherwise.

Tell me a secret,
I don’t scare easily.
I’ll go first.
Confession: I want you to be ugly
Dark.
Caustic.
Honest.
Remorseless.
A Thief.
The thing I was warned about...ugly.
I want a reason, a vile reason you even look at me.
Selfish. Ugly. Reason...you believe in reason.
It is hard to imagine you are normal
I say that not to mean ordinary (which you have never even sat in a waiting room with)
You are the swirled colors,
the flowers I see in my imagination that has no occupants,
Not because they choose, but I chose it to be that way,
I chose you to be swirled colors and flowers I see.

You are not
Charred.
Jaded.
Broken.
Needy.
Weak.
Dishonest.
Misleading.

I am waiting to see your ugly...
But maybe there isn’t any,
You even apologize when you think you may have let “it” out,
I promise you,
I have never seen you
as anything but
Lovely,
Loveworthy,
Love Me...?

Why would you even look at me then?
How could you assess me the way you do,
And make me believe the tenderness you radiate onto me so thoroughly; permanently.
Gently touching my worn face with your ******-guitar-calloused fingertips
And giving me the look you do.
Seeing me without motive; without malice
I’m not Little Red and you are not the wolf,
It is hard to let that be,
But I will,
I am,
I have?
I HAVE.
The in-betweens,
The aboves,
The mourning doves,
that remind me of you,
your smell,
as well,
as the pillow I refuse to wash,
your skin to my bed cloth
to my skin to yours...

Lately I am really hoping I am not the Wolf.
History, I love you, but take a vacation,
Please,
Don’t mark this,
Don’t let this be another thing to take,
Let me keep my smile,
Let this one be with me for a while.