i don't want to go down screaming,
but i know if i looked out the window and the plane was on fire i'd be screaming the loudest-
some unearthly sound bellowing out from my h.pylori gut.
my mouth; wide open catching dust.
and what is that? "i guess that's fear", they would-
i can't do anything so i'm gonna pin back my ears and open my roundest hole and let it loose. let her rip. like a donkey.
like a sad sad reality that equals nothing,
just screaming and screaming and screaming and i can't do anything.
the plane is already going down.

It occurred too
As most things don't to me
That these lapses
Lapses?
What were we on
Obelisk over 40
Or is it over and then under.
¿Cuál es tu animal favorito
I've left the list behind on the plane and not
I'm not sure I can collect my thoughts that way anymore
At least not for today
Why? I left those thoughts on a plane and it has already set its tail aloft for soft breezes
The air the air, soft as Fred Astaire
And Ginger Rogers, is the night
She wraps her hand into his
8 steps forward and a shuffle ball-change  right.
But it is something else isn't it
Her bird like hips in a double tiered dress dripping with Swarovski and trimmed with ostrich as she descends the glass stairs from heaven onto a dimly lit ballroom
A slight curl of the hair and the sharpness of her nose the counterbalance to the wave of her *** in that beautiful ******* dress
Oh and Fred? You keep up. You do.

Simon
I'm a rock
I'm not sure the things I was before
Or the could and would of it all
But i know surely that now I'm a rock
And I like it like it were mine
Because it is now
This rockiness
Has become the me inside of mes me, yes I am here
It is me?
This time Henry, simon is what I meant
It's about you, its about you
And coming undone
But as you find me in the whirlwind
In the marriage that lasts for 35 years
The having a kid or drowning of such kid
Of the yacht set to sea in the highest of marsh, of dune.
It's land I see!
A rock a rock
And not much more

I am full bodied,
fully breathing,
fully reaching, weaving, and sometimes achieving-
fully grieving,
for a father who always kept me reeling
and a memory of him that has kept me believing
in a time i will see his face again.

I am fully alive,
fully seeing,
fully felt, and fully feeling.
There are times that I may not seem fully there
by the look of my glassy stare
but it's because I am way off dreaming-
day time streaming-
imagining some elaborate fantasy
of glittery toy mountains
where the red snow is seeping-
so red faced and gleaming-
pleasant and fearing.
Hushed and blanketed
in the throws of my far off mind
as I create a reality
that soon behooves my own.

I am fully wanting,
fully needing,
sometimes wrong,
and sometimes deceiving.
And if I've hurt you
with my veering
I hope you will someday know
that my actions were abstractions-
fleeting distractions from the passion
I felt for you-
and for us.
And before the breath has left
the darkest caves of my chest
I hope you will forgive
and embrace me
like you do night after night in dreams,
where you slip beneath the sheets
and say you love me once again
and life for us will have just began.

I am fully hated
fully loved and loving,
yet there's nothing in this world
that has been more becoming
then being fully the person that i am-
the good, the bad,
sometimes ridiculous,
sometimes sad,
but mostly prolific way of being,
that keeps on keeping.
Maybe i will never fully understand you
as you will never fully understand me,
but lets come to terms with the possibility
that we will find some sort of peace and gratifying ease,
in you being fully you-
in whatever term that will come to mean,
and me being fully me-
with all the joy, light, darkness, and pain
that this life may see.

Your red tide
is burning rust,
making newly polished things
out of polished things
we once bonded in lust.
And at the bottom of this ocean door
lay the dead skeletons of dead fish-
their ivory bones gleaming and moored
like pretty faces,
handpicked and carved,
from the prettiest crowd.
So beautiful these dead reminders,
hanging from a Christmas tree-
hanging from a gold chain on my neck-
hanging from your mouth
like a *** of spit ready to fall
into the ocean,
to be drowned.

Coming undone from the strings in my throat
that say a little too much or a little too little
They don't know their Femalien place,
in this masculine **** race-
So with raw heat boiling from the pit of my genitals
and dew drops glistening on my *******,
is it possible that we females are maybe playing the maleful jest?
At best, could a man see that he takes not
what he owns not
and what he owns not-
Is Everything.
But oh,
no no no no-
no no no no no no no,
you're a big man
with your big purply veined ****
coming out of your ears
and vomiting your man juice from your mouth,
don't you feel like a big man now?
As I slip between your skinny pleats
your manly desire,
your teeny weeny *****,
and swim about the valleys of your frothy tongue-
I'll get the flooding of your wallet
the more I scream "oh yeah baby,
I want you to *** *** ***!"
Yet as so far as real love can be concerned
real love does not exist here and in return
it is rain rain rain.
Heavy ******* rain on the blank canvas of your face.
I'll paint a pretty picture with your blood,
you could stick your detached eyeballs
in the mud
and we'd be happy, if only you lost those ears-
pesky things, I'd rip and tear,
tasty treats, your biggest fear,
to be a deaf and blind man
with a women in your wake-
or in your way-
or leading you-
You are not sure.
But ****
it terrifies you-

To the core.

spiritfiregoodgirl
don'tyouwishitwasarealworld?

oh i'd like to drive an escalade
but my feet can't reach the ground-
i am sure it was only yesterday
money rained like drops in a drought.

well that's life, that's life,
no, yeah-
that's life, that's life.

this heart leaked flames into the sky
so the gas man shut it down-
now it shoots to aim but it shoots with doubt
you were good but your fire drowned.

well that's life, that's life,
no, yeah-
that's life, that's life.

you sleep.
awake. these eyes stare into the thick wall of fog
surrounding the building.
the city has vanished
into pixelated water drops floating by my window-
there is no way out.

you sleep.
awake. these eyes watch a whole season of Skins-
Tony was hit by a truck-
season finale.
no solution,
no way out.

you sleep.
you are not here, but you are in your bed sleeping
and dreaming,
or possibly just stage 4 sleeping
with no intervals of florescent scenes-
it is no matter.
i am far away, reeling
in my bedroom
which is deceiving in name alone.

you sleep.
I lie awake, night peering. night scheming. night dreaming
with eyes wide and white and ready
for a new lover to come and call.
although the story doesn't behove us all
and maybe it's not a lover I seek at all
but some collection of contentment
to make steady eyes grow weary
under the heavy potion of security
that could come with drowsy resolutions,
but never will come.
at least not
for me.

An Ode to my greatest love, Sleep.
May you never grow tired.

---------------------------------------------------------­-----------------------------
Every time I wake up
I just want to make up,
Another reason
To be with you.

Me, you.
Traveling fast down floating hallways.
So many doors of possibility,
Free and expensive outlets
For us to spend invisible cash-
Which is really diamond factories
In my fingers and with every touch
There lingers,
Glittering particles in our wake.

Lets go to far away concrete jungles
Or wander fast on psychotropic trips to
Miniature red rocked planets
Where the struggle for good begins and
An ominous unknown looks down from the sky.
I’ll play the star
Of this mini soap drama,
While you keep your vigilant eye on the time.

I am the bird
You, my gilded cage.
And with every mornings rising-
I fly away
From these neon dreams
And the supernova of music
That casts a glimmer into the meat
Of my eyes
And makes the doldrums,
The ** hum,
Of everyday living-
Of pastel landscapes-
And hetchy sketched lines
On strangers faces,
Pull me down, where I am drowning
Into the gum spotted ground.

At times
I lay lingering
In the fresh blood
Of our latest retreat,
Our greatest victory-
Our heartbreaking defeat,
Hoping that this time,
This time,
will be the last,
will be our greatest
and never be surpassed.
Morning will never come
To break the storming stream
Of our fantastic dreams
And wake me to meet
Another gray and paling daytime scheme.

Yet with every journeys end,
a new day does begin
and rise-
I suppose I do
with a mourn in my throat
for the places we could go
but that will have to wait
until the lush blanket of your love
lays heavy on my breath
once again,
and reunited, feeling good
we propel away
on new shimmering webs
dangling far from realities clutch
into fantasies sweet touch.

Sleep, my love,
it is you I choose to pursue,
Because every time I wake up
I just want to make up,
Another reason
To be with you.

Sometimes it hurts.
So badly, inside.

To think of him.
The way he died.

No words can confide.
No words can confide.

For my father. You'll always be with me.

The car dashboard
radiated a deep bass blue.
Buzzing all around
was the steady hum of sleep.

Except for me-
Except for him-
Our eyes awake and focused
on the moon cast highway.

Usually there would be music
or a sibling argument ready to burst-
But here, between us, there was only
the bouncing melody and harmony of our voices.

Tangled in my young eagerness
I told him my great plans for the future
and with every monologues end
he’d turn to me with a father’s proud grin-

And shine two glossy, sky-tinted eyes upon me.

Always looking to the stars for guidance
because for us, they were no longer just in reach,
but companions in this soothing night ride to a place
where all the attractions, all the gimmicks-

Could never give us this.

Come and take the drab away
from these 4 walled days
and the florescent gaze-
give me someone to laugh with-
someone to reside with-
who will never want anything more
then for us to lay head to head on the floor
with our record collection in fingertips reach
and soft carpet for our well thought
nostalgic feats,
in remembering the name of that guy
who wrote that song
that together we can hum along-
yet we’ll never remember the title of-
but ****, that man sure could sing.

Remembering one night in Shanghai. Feeling like all those love letters being rung dry after years cast out on the paper sea. So many pretty fishes, so many pretty words of ink, and those chattering night birds in the lumbering trees, that there's enough pretty to fill the holes of our modern sound. So pretty, all these precious things. So pretty are these breakable things.

The truth.
This is where
I am at right now.
Trapped in
trailing time.
Walking the cold pressed dirt. (in preparation)
I keep trudging forward
with gain and loss.
Chunks of earth fuse
and break off.
Caught in the furious noise
of the everyday.

No reflection.
No reflection in your heathen eyes.
The trees are overcast. Swaying.
Dropping their browning waste.

If this ground should part,
if this body should fail,
if this steady hum
vibrates deep into the darkness-

He probed his cooled instrument
into the meat of my ear,
and the ENT specialist
gives it an "all clear"-

Yet these ears go on repeating,
those words caught draining,
out of your cigarette mouth-
lit deep in our darkening alley.

The scenery is intoxicating
and I drink it in to drunken bliss
and spiral away
from this physical capture
and am captive
only by what captivates me

You say it best when you're sleeping-
your fingers gently grazing
down my thigh to find a hand
that’s not your own-

I wish that it were so,
so easy to abide-
by the precautionary smirks
of simple lies.

it is temporary
the mirrored faces reflecting back into one-
it is as temporary as the sun.

it is temporary,
this burning body of youth.
it is temporary insanity
and temporary truth.
it is movable pieces
in the bottle of corked vermouth.
it is ungrateful youth
and all her fantasy
her ****** opportunity-
the days of endless sunshine
fogged with cascading rain,
full of superficial pain,
that only sets into the skin to rise up
much later.
blemished traitors
of your failing past.

it is temporary,
the primping of memories undone-
it is as temporary as the blazing gun.

it is temporary,
it is fleeting
and no matter how these products
keep us believing
they are nothing more
then distractions, they are deceiving.
as the sand is thrown in our glossy eyes
and stars that once opened in the night sky
just for us-
open no more.
we retire from the bridled gore
of youth and her tireless war
and forever more,
must sing the songs of fading youth.
must curse the uncouth,
the way the years
have wandered by
without any proper goodbye
and we, as strangers
in this looming unknown
we must come to know
as past our prime,
past our time,
and be spectators
into the theatre of vanity
we are now excluded from.
oh, how we wish we’d undone
the regrets and missteps-
but we are denied
to ever confide
the wisdom we’ve gained
since beauty and youth
have fled-
we are condemned
to be voiceless passengers
on our train ride to the end.

yet, this is temporary.
as temporary as you and i,
the ailing sky,
the aching stars,
the rolling hilltops,
tracing to the mouth of the river
and when we are at once delivered
to a final resting stop-
we pray, we hope
as tooth and nail dragged
we try to cope,
to be temporary no more-
temporary no more-
temporary no more-
temporary no more-

youth youth
fading hard and fast
in time ill be an image
in the tray you ash

hanging sideways
off the table with wine
downing these pills
to keep lovely eyes dry

running through the miles
of the creaking sky
foolishly wide
foolishly beside myself

come back to me
blow invisible kisses at the sea
lets get drunk on rotten wine
let emptiness feed our rotting minds

you were contemporary
beige skin on royal sheets
your shoulders, coat hangers as you walk
down avenues, through neon lights

your face
an apparition in the pavement
invisible photographs
in a mind growing frail and cold

My sense of responsibility
for you, is weak
And though the sun
may peak
Her bright and shiny head,
I am four steps from dead
with whiskey in throat
striking up a winter laden band.
One hand over my eye
and another open in the dark.

Through the city harbor
blind cat ropewalker
down to the skylit charmer
into wounded arms
and gaunt and weary couches
I am wilting away.
With your breath hot on me
sedating my needs
like I sedate and taint you-

But suffocate, suffocate
Disintegrate and fascinate
all my childish fantasies
of being pressed into the trees
pressed into the dirt,
Your hips slipped between
a little exposed thigh.
Pressed and suffocating-
under your weighted throb.