Mar 2011
the black crimson of atmospheric and feminine smoke gloriously moves around
like tainted belly dancers in front of the pyramids
luring and incredibly terrifying
singing to me in the tongue of Orpheus, balancing
like dark ballerinas gathered in Arabesque stance
protruding brittle and shaking emotion with grace and
extracting all mind pollution
drenched in a feeble state
lurid/ashen/grim with transcending desire to fulfill itself beyond natural depth
I delicately move my fingers around, I want this to wrap around me
as slow as possible
I nestle my head into my shoulder, and rub my cheek against my warmth
I adorn the fumes
I kiss them
ghosts and humble gatherings pursue me on this deadly night
of a deep fright and tender delight
crazed anonymous lovers kiss on their balcony somewhere in France
a fog dies out on some highway in mid Arizona
while a young woman smears red lip stick on her tainted mouth
she tries to gather her hair as it blows in the wind in her girlfriends
1975 convertible Chevrolet Caprice classic
this desert is heavy she thinks to herself
as the thoughts of authority and being thrown into a jail cell
slowly slip away through her hallucinations
she casts the bottle of brandy to her drunken tongue
I am human she thinks, more human than I have ever been
a smile makes its way to her lips adjoined with tears
and childhood memories of lime aide on Saturday mornings
and the smell of chlorine from the old pool in the backyard that her mother
told her to never jump in
I trail my finger against the heat that has made its way to my shower door
and print some lewd drawing that brings a tiny bit of laughter to my gut
I remember the way you would analyze your face in the mirror
judging yourself so harshly, when orchids in spring would never compare to you
remember the feeling of having a butterfly rarely land on your hand as a child
nothing could have been more magical at that moment
when your heart explodes with mystical wonder
and then before you know it its set free again
things so ethereal are not meant for captivity
human hearts should learn how to relate
live freely
that is how I feel sometimes
when life brushes on my skin like 6 billion beating hearts
when I find ways to connect with those poor women in Kenya,
and tap into the rarity of their happiness
when I find ways to breathe in that same toxic air of the unfortunate civilians
of the city Chernobyl in Ukraine
when every child that has ever been given life breathes in my heart
when I connect and feel
alive.
like tainted belly dancers in front of the pyramids
luring and incredibly terrifying
singing to me in the tongue of Orpheus, balancing
like dark ballerinas gathered in Arabesque stance
protruding brittle and shaking emotion with grace and
extracting all mind pollution
drenched in a feeble state
lurid/ashen/grim with transcending desire to fulfill itself beyond natural depth
I delicately move my fingers around, I want this to wrap around me
as slow as possible
I nestle my head into my shoulder, and rub my cheek against my warmth
I adorn the fumes
I kiss them
ghosts and humble gatherings pursue me on this deadly night
of a deep fright and tender delight
crazed anonymous lovers kiss on their balcony somewhere in France
a fog dies out on some highway in mid Arizona
while a young woman smears red lip stick on her tainted mouth
she tries to gather her hair as it blows in the wind in her girlfriends
1975 convertible Chevrolet Caprice classic
this desert is heavy she thinks to herself
as the thoughts of authority and being thrown into a jail cell
slowly slip away through her hallucinations
she casts the bottle of brandy to her drunken tongue
I am human she thinks, more human than I have ever been
a smile makes its way to her lips adjoined with tears
and childhood memories of lime aide on Saturday mornings
and the smell of chlorine from the old pool in the backyard that her mother
told her to never jump in
I trail my finger against the heat that has made its way to my shower door
and print some lewd drawing that brings a tiny bit of laughter to my gut
I remember the way you would analyze your face in the mirror
judging yourself so harshly, when orchids in spring would never compare to you
remember the feeling of having a butterfly rarely land on your hand as a child
nothing could have been more magical at that moment
when your heart explodes with mystical wonder
and then before you know it its set free again
things so ethereal are not meant for captivity
human hearts should learn how to relate
live freely
that is how I feel sometimes
when life brushes on my skin like 6 billion beating hearts
when I find ways to connect with those poor women in Kenya,
and tap into the rarity of their happiness
when I find ways to breathe in that same toxic air of the unfortunate civilians
of the city Chernobyl in Ukraine
when every child that has ever been given life breathes in my heart
when I connect and feel
alive.
