I'll leave my resolution as she leaves her
tight black dress apon the floor.
In passion of a ***** tinted kiss.
we'll forget the times to follow if only
in are trainwreck splendor.

Two souls thirsting for contact.
Tearing at one another like children unwrapping
gifts from under the tree.

Plessure is a dream togather were caught willing
victims of a lost night and a years end.

As tommorows starts a year's slow decline.
In her eyes I need only a glimpse to recall.
The madness that was in the streets we
stole a nights most simple plessure.

A private partys afterglow is such a bittersweet
tressure we'll recall togather.
In the velvet of a embrace more than skin did connect.
Within thoose eye's the embers of that private
party for a breif moment does reflect.

As traces of reallity plague the return of the following
day.
One kiss tasting of devilish remorse I caught a whisper of love
But in a shallow moments thought just watched it
walk away.

Traces of day in sunsets past.
Life's destroy the  painting once bright
has faded at last.

She clings to a illusion for it's better than nothing she's known
so very  well.
Sweetest are the confessions in the shadows we do tell.

Forward in movement still somewhere im left behind.
Goodbye in thought the highway calls yet the chapter is
far from done.
Summers of reflection love as a child when gentle was thought
endless was the innocent fun.

Im not the man that should see the finish happy fairy tails
bleed my dreams.
Glimmers of greatness burn fast in failure  it seems.

Broken souls cast south  tonight we share moment
I have to erase.
Confide in the emptyness collected hopes in a distant angels face.

Fools are many but a loser's path is best walked alone.
A empty court vacant is the kingdom inwhich I hold the throne.
Lesser the man who's never known the start.
Gone are my words.
As I speak empty  mind from a jaded heart.

Face the tide, face the time, face the demons in your mind
Face the truth, face the lie, face the time you had to hide
Hide away, not from me, hide away, not even from yourself
Hide away from the fact, the fact they drove you mad

Whos the they you ask, I dont know you replied
Whos the demon you ask, I dont know you reply
shhh who said that, not me, whos me, not you, you heard again
Whos voice was that, mine you said, but that wasnt me, who said that

I said that, whos I, I dont know who I am, I only know me
Whos me, again, I dont know, I only know who I am
Whos I then, me told you he doesnt know, but you do
You who, me, me who,me you, no I, I who, I me, no you me

Stop it, stop what, that, that  what, what you just did
What I do, that, that what, **** it your doin it again
It what, that, that what, this, this what, talkin to me, me who
Me, whos me, Me here in front of you, OH! you, Yes! Me

Know who I am now, No I dont, who are you
I am me, whos me, the person writing this
Oh, then if you're you, then who am I, You're me, no Im not
Yes you're me, you're just confused, No Im not, I know me

Do you, Yes I do, then prove it, who am I
You're you, then who is you, you is me, then who is me
Me is who I am, huh, I said me is who I am,
Whos me again, You, you who, me, me who, I, I am me and you

Oh! Now I get it, Oh wait, nope, I lost it, who am I again?

A drugstore pallid in waning light, always illuminated in halogen halos.
I am earless with music.
Black metal loud in clanging sets and blows-
foreshadowing the smell of cleaning solution,
air freshener and the outside
sweet at my back
all steeped deep in the rip roaring undertone torrent of cigarette smoke
blended with cheap perfume until I cannot tell the difference.
There is a limp familiarity to the underlying odor
born partially of personal encounter and-
nestled in the hive mind of social experience.
A distillation of regret and remorse,
of lonely,
of irrelevance;
this black hole swallows my voice the way of my ears,
eaten by rust.

Four cans of beans,
kidneys,
in cans squeezed without any power against sagging swells
melting into other curves
and I swerve close and around guiltily,
noting you only as the source of this pungent spring.
You are smiling apologies
ignorant of my apparent inhumanity-
blind to my selfish hands..

Pinioning belly flesh,
flattening,
reaching
and gaining attendance from a better man
retrieving every dropped can.
I’m retreating,
shaken,
tense to alternatively slacken.
My sweat slippery palms with whitened red sharp fingers feel foreign
and I am surrounded by razors then shaving cream,
moving from shampoo to conditioner,
the whole store is infected with smell.
Staring at nail clippers/snipers clipping touch smooth sooth my tense mind-
don’t look
don’t
look
I can sense little else but dread
drawing closer
you are now crouched so close I’m gagging,
taken forcefully-swept away in an olfactory flood
roiling in rot,
currents of solitude exude from your smiling sullen appearance when I turn to you
fumbling
with my electric ears,
surfacing
in a breath of Amish silence
broken with simple request
and I want to scream at you that I am not a man to ask opinions of
that it does not matter what fake nails she glues to her body
that she is excluded and I don’t know why.


I choose swirls of cream suspended within watery milk,
over childish lady bugs framed by yellow
or dots of red alternating to black,
an epitaph to a lifelike effigy.

I wonder ivy, ever green
embracing faces no longer seen
were better tribute to love immortal
than fragrant blossoms strewn on soil;

too soon they loose their hues, perfumes,
becoming dust like those they'd honor,
when life's the thing we thought was cherished -
then remind us only flesh will perish

but love attaches to the stars
and lives forever in our hearts
so never work to mark my path    
with stones nor earth, for they will pass,

erode of tears and sighs of heaven
that earth should suffer my disruption,
her milk I’d stolen might sequester
locked in darkness forever from her

rather, vest me in some far off light
that twinkles in the dark of night,
thy wistful eyes to visit there
and meet my love’s returning stare

I find that chromium-vanadium steel,
while holding glimmer and shine
through much abuse,
is harder to hone
to that razor-like edge
that truly makes chopping a breeze
(watch the fingers, please),
merely mangling fine fruits
and tomatoes, instead.
(just tilt your head, thus)
It's a tool best left
for whacking at meat,
as its heft and its strength
make short work of bone;
more cleaver than scalpel,
if truth will be said.
I've always preferred
the high-carbon alloys,
though now out of fashion
in today's haute cuisine.
While rusting and blackening with age -
not the type you'd put on display -
the blades stay as keen
as the day they were minted,
and wipe down nicely on sleeves.