Awoke to the sound of gunfire Chewed teeth pacifying the burning rage against the disease Mother's Milk a distant dream And the sweet salt of your super nature Caressing the cavities in my head Swallowing the holes in my soul as metal shards make more young soldiers whole completing an illusion of control.
How long can you hold onto a necessary reverie? As long as you need assuming you both agreed to dream tonight, To face to face the side by side To never ever lie To reprobate the profligate And accept the overwhelm All allowing of the atmosphere Loving every moment hard and soft And every crevasse in the journey between. Revive the sight of yourself within the mind of one who reveres the eyes with which they have been blessed to look upon a ****** deity, and to worship fading gold and cracked plaster, knowing it was born to age and die.
There once was a time Gone by, gone by, Picking blackberries till the vine was plucked dry.
Pricked finger and the blood of kings washed the riverbed clean again paving path for new bled love.
Story of my life: Hot Hand-Grenade. Tripwire tickled by trespassing travelers Red wire arteries clipped and clipped and clipped and simple minded times when birds sang songs to other birds and chirped lyrical lines in the dusk. More wonder. More trust. Less wanderlust. Dust in the air. Still in the sunlight. Through glass. Broke. Fall. Cut. All roads lead to home. Wood, River, Stone. A guide, a path, alone. We all walk on our own Striving for independence Together.
Now is a time of faded glory, daffodils in freshly-mowed fields. I still catch myself wishing I had the words to share The bigness of what's out there. I still hear myself singing your song of longing. Still find myself longing for days of childish peace and ignorance when we could pick blackberries from the bush without bombs falling in our basket. Still a long way to go to hear the sound of surrender and the silent unfurling of egos into how alone we feel. Still my heart, that lost love long ago, and surrendered a savior forever. Hart, of dreams, slip into the stream. Interstitch the seams.
Out of order. Restroom. Where I can't flush my heart. Throne of broken dreams. I hear your
On the wind. See our
Reveries. On the backs of my eyes. The underside of my mind... begins to float
I saw you today. Inside my two rooms. Projection slides on the dark white walls. You're bigger now. A lot bigger than last time
King of the jungle wild and free. Too big for this book, too fast for me to keep up. If I could speak up, find the words, I'd bring 'em right back and paste em right here for all to see.
I see you. Closer. Every time I close my eyes. You're faster now. Stronger now than you ever were. And if I could I'd go to see you there. But this is still my world. And I can't leave a good thing gone bad until I've tried every way there is to heal it.
Tiger fangs In my veins can't tear me from this throne. Empower me From your great forest seat and I will carry on. And I'll sit And I'll **** On this seat On this throne. And I'll sing And I'll pray This is broken Find your way. And I'll breathe And I'll be In your eyes In your arms. And I'll live And I'll die Just for you Just for me. I give up You forgive All my love All your life. And we run And we dive To the night To our dream.
Good to see you. Happy to know...
Our work continues
which no matter plane we land on. if no matter we land on our feet.
Today I closed my eyes and saw a tiger staring back at me. Nose to nose. And I've never felt more Safe, right, or familiar, more familiar family-er.
He stood on the corner and cried. Not for his mother. Not for his brother. Not for his lover.
He cried for the old world. A Memory never coming back. Cried and Cried. What a *****. Memory. My first love. Was a *****.
He stood at the corner and cried. Cried and Cried. Until he died. A little death. Mouth agape. Exhaust. Intake. Painting his pate with lovers and lakes, He trembled and raked his mind for a day, He jumped up and down but could not shake The way he felt about his own best friend.
The further he was the tighter the tension It didn't make sense, how could a ****** boy choke him up. Invisible chains tied to invisible cuffs on his wrists, but he knew he was free. He didn't want to break, see He chose the chain to remind his brain, that he could make me live again.
I was his best friend.
Still am until the end.
Whatever that means. See, he sees outside of time. He knows how he will die. Collapsing with a sigh, He sees me by his side, Attached with arm and knife, He finally rests his eyes, on co dependent life.
She is grass cut fresh on the hill. She is the chaos that's holding me still. She is birds in a nest in a tree. She is the formlessness I cannot see. She is here. She is now. She is bread in an oven. She is a river of blood. She is the vein in Atlas' forearm. She is juggling chainsaws and daffodils. She is the deer in the forest grown from the ashes of the last forest. She is everything and nothing and something and some more or less. She is the Goddess who birthed all your gods. She is the oldest and oddest of all. Sheisheaven,****,thedeepestwell. She is answer E) All of the above. She is fierce, violent, conflagrate love. She is the hole punch around the binder ring. She is the throat through which we sing. She is swimming through my eyes. She is running through my mind all night. She is whispering herself in my ear. She is the ashes, the forest, the deer. She will repeat it, if you did not hear. She is She is Again and Again.
Entitle. Breathing in this second. Been a long time, still no exit. Still this air, this place, no effort. Someday when you are are free. You will no longer have need to breathe Someday when you are free . you will become your anxiety. Someday when you are free. Transitive motion becomes liberty. Someday, when you are free . Signs will be leading you back to the sea.
See you again. See you my friend. Milling the fen. Willing the zen. Breathing the pen. Ten thousand offerings. Never enough. Sever my soul from like apple on tree. Fall to the ground. See the fools drown. Drown in the tears of the poor of the town. Loved till too late. See you in the ground. When you come around. Your side or mine? Sides or time? You're on my mind.
Fire Watcher. Spark Guarder. You smell of ash and the past.
Yea, burning your brother's shirt on the side of the street. Stamping the spare sparks away with the soles of your feet. Doesn't it hurt? Sending souls beyond into the mist? Turning the flesh into Flagships adrift? Burning to be with the burnt. Returning the souls to the earth.
Watching tiny flames ride skeletal monorails to work, wearing a brother's shirt, clutching father's overcoat... fan, release, stoke. When we become tinder, Fire Watcher guides the cinders. Tender eyes and mute mouth. Ember skies and waking owls. The wolf is allowed to howl again.
Spark Guarder waits for it all to go out. Forgiveness in flame.