And in this moment, this one infinitely ceaseless moment
there was bliss, euphoria and a love component.
For when he spoke of his heart and it's spiteful opponent,
I found myself yearning for his loves atonement.

A smooth criminal and a family man, he stunned me into amazement
with an astonishing smile from love lost in a previous engagement.
So in my quest to free his heart from her empty enslavement,
I will cherish our moments in memory of this open arrangement
And live without reason in my journey to his loves final attainment.

All will power, self-control and mental restraint I have exhausted,
For neither passion reside nor lust emerge in his humble feeble heart.
I have knelt on frail knees and with quaint hands his love I exalted
But within his soul, intimacy and romance he willingly depart.

Minutes to hours to 6 am poetry readings in remote coffee houses,
He has inspired the muses in the hellish chasms and caverns in my chest.
Desperate and loose interpretations of his intentional misleading’s he arouses
For in me he refutes debauchery with sarcasm wherein my tavern I will recess.

I am a kin folk made from a flamed dreams of love unbound by time and lust,
And whose very existence is to serve and be served without expectation.
In us a purity resides of reclaimed innocence from unadulterated trust
Where he confides in me his minds afflictions and turbulent tribulations.

But there is a blonde girl, petite personality, vivacious body and soul pure as light,
So in empty compliments and falsified flattery I forsaken myself to internal desires.
For she is an Angel engulfed in his wings of sentimentality and heroic might,
And I am but the Devils Advocate crucified in a criminal act,
Doing all that his love requires.

For I will walk through time loving him in every way,
And he will die loving her just the same.

I am madly in love with you, is that not clear?
When you talk about her flawlessness and I have everything to fear,
You text me asking for advice on your girlfriend and I'm still here.
You call me asking for advice on a girl whose intention is clear,
To tempt you with a life outside of those three years.
In your compliments and love you seem sincere,
And yet I can not bring myself to disturb and interfere
Because I know you do not love me the way that I love you my dear.
So I will stay and I will persevere
Because I know that one day there will be no more tears.
And I will watch you be happy with another whom I will revere
As the woman who stole your heart and kept as a souvenir.

Never mind the obscure objectives and finite perspectives for I need but secure my collective conscious so that I may grasp a reality that remains lost in earth trodden shoes worn down by relentless, unforgiving journeys.
In your search for meaning, you have found them hiding from curious eyes waiting for those that matter. I ask that you appreciate the tears, the dirt stains and matted fabric for they have survived damnation in their trek to Hell and back.
You discovered and earthed them in their solidarity and quiet suffering, picked them up and polished what would could.
You returned them to me with a sparkle in your eyes, hoping for the best; that they will fit and continue to collect memories. That they might survive the journey to atonement and witness exaltation one final time.
Your smile widens, your nose wrinkles and cheeks flush red.
You feel within you a sense of consummation in that a good deed was done.
I say unto you “I’m sorry dear but they no longer fit nor am I able to journey. Age and neglect weigh heavy on their seams and my bones creak with my every step. ”, you laugh, creases forming at the corners of your deep brown eyes.
“Then tell me about your journeys”. I have never heard words so sweet in a voice so delicate and loving. You sit down eyes wide and virtuous ears perked and hands out stretched, “For I will walk your path in my own shoes and I will collect memories in my hands so that one day I may put them in my own heart and have them with me always. If ever you need them, then I will be with you”.

Three years and what do I have to show?
A love sick husband and his alcoholic foe.
There are bottles upon bottles awaiting disposal,
wherein lies my empty proposal,
I will quit.
I will be better.
Things will change.
But does he know of my sorrow and my conflictions?
That maybe "us" isn't the right situation?
That time only told of our failing and misery,
and our inability to escape our unforgivable history.

I hear the hurt in his voice when I call him every day
and I know of the words he's fighting to say,
I can't do this anymore.
I hoped things would change.
It's over.
You try to convince yourself that things will be better.
You try to convince him of the things you wrote in that letter.
I will do what you want me to, to keep you here,
but I cannot sacrifice myself, to whom I am sincere.

A hopeful relationship ruined by an act of selfishness.
A yearning to love but retrained by oppressiveness.
So does hurt, and a want to love save a ****** connection,
or does fate condemn it to eternal damnation?

There is a madness brewing like a sickness violently spewing lunatic crazed remarks into hollow minds. There are ideas stirring, bubbling and boiling; while stifled thoughts surface with no more than their existence as a warning of fore coming depression.
What a natural phenomenon, the emergence of insanity within a sane able bodied mind.
There is a foretelling of a sign forecasting an upcoming discension into the chasms that are my souls wretched sins reincarnated into the halls of Hell.
Ideas inspire though pride, gluttony, malice and envy give my breathe meaning through the inconsistencies of life.
They ignite within us a flame not readily contained by the constraints and shackles of love and time.
**** me now, and I shall forevermore hold peace in my heart and a quieted mind.

There are inexplicable mercies hidden in your ingenious words, that irresistible touch and those impeccably authentic thoughts. I am humbled and infused with pleasure to be a vessel of your love.

There is a containment of euphoria nestled deep within your heart that only angelic hands can breach. Because you are a Saint, a prophecy sent from whichever heavens you praise to fulfill the desires of my soul, our souls.

Our souls, for your love is limitless and is found in every heart, in every vein, and in every mind as an infectious delicious and delightful disease. Rare in severity, true in antiquity, your love knows not time nor its conditional confines.  

Vessels of your love, we are intrigued by your astounding beauty. Sagely brown eyes, a charmingly chiseled chin, and calloused hands only a man could bear. Adonis himself envies your dangerous allure.

Whichever God has sent you, their purpose was clear; to savor the souls of many and reclaim all hearts lost to love. Without you, my world would fall to internal damnation. You are a savior, a saint, a prophetic being sent as an answer to our payers for our remorseful redemption.

Running as fast as I can to a familiar place.
Stucco walled buildings surround me.
I keep to the street, I know this street.
Three feet down there is a crack next to a dandelion I refuse to make a wish upon.
Street light after street light, 5 minutes turns to 3 and my footsteps are silent and unmovable.
And in this moment exhausted, exhilarated, and exposed, I stand.

There are many moments like this.
Strident silence is my mistress now and in our affair, there is solace.

Running as fast as I can to an unfamiliar place.
Barren dessert hills surround me.
Shrubs, pebbles, boulders and dirt.
I expel disinterest onto these foreign trails and watch as it soaks the ground with apathy.
Dull greens turn to offset browns, crippling reds and insensate charred black.
And in this moment, isolated, desolate and infinitely free, I stand.

She will always be here, there, tomorrow and now.
Comforting me with her deafening screams, I found acceptance for what I can not control.

So I run to her

My first poem of the year and neither resentment nor refined love will reside in these words or take refuge in my reluctantly resurgent heart.
For I bear a ravenous appetite for life’s silver platter with romance revered through love a la carte.

An uncontrollable thirst thrashes in my throat thriving in my esophagus as a craving for the Open Road infuses my bones.
How long I withered away waiting writhingly to walk the paths I’ve woefully dreamt about that ought but take me to all unknowns.

A path paved perfectly between the placid hills of the East and passionate oceans of the West wherein paramount knowledge plagues the mind.
But there is no foretelling the fabled beauty of the open Sky, the Stars fluorescing and illuminating the epiphanies I frantically search to find.

From love to life to salvation and struggle, the Stars send down their answers easing the sleepless sorrows consuming my dreamless slumber.
However, I am saved through the comfort of knowing I know not of anything in all that there is to know from this off chance cosmic encounter

2 am phone conversations
From the Love I have lost
And a Love I will never have
Because I am No One
going No where
with No passion,
internal love,
faith
honor
or life.
Brown
green
hazel eyes
full of Life
radiant passion
going Everywhere
becoming Some one
learning to Love people
and stealing the hearts of many.
He has found a new Love that can
compliment him in ways I could not.
There is a new Love there and I will rejoice
in it, for he is happy
Who am I to ruin it?

He is rapture incarnate and
manifested exuberance in human flesh.
He sings songs in other worldly melodies,
beautiful hymns in soulful harmonies.
I exalt thee for through his voice
may my soul transgress and life ascend
so that I may rejoice and find an absolute end.