This absence follows behind me where I walk;
This absence is pure
This absence is silent
This absence is the white wind I see in my dreams
pushing me forward, continually running
until this absence feels no pain.
This absence is good, with no evil beneath
This absence taught me how to love,
never needing much
This absence was angelic,
this absence died out with light in its presence.
Pay attention to your absence.
Give it love even when it fades to gray
and turns into the wind.
The absence behind me is
golden,
perfect and old
yet a youthful soul
black when your eyes meet
but glorious in its core.
This absence will never leave me.
This absence
will never leave me.

I live in shades of dreams
craters in my brain make way for the imagination to run
into winds of white and purple mist
Shimmering down through my eyes
to shine the rusting youth that always seemed to lack
luster.
I ask why I could never win the
brilliance
of the skies. Of the hawks flying high with so much pride.
Not too much to discourage the observers
but dignified enough to ignite a craving
for growth.
To prosper.
A pedestal
worthy of winning over my sight.

This is the fire that dies when the wood freezes;
when the ground releases the sun is when we will meet again.
In the winter: light December nights
are all we remember.
Sparkling snow and champagne problems
bubbling to the surface of our existence.
Who are we? Where have you been?
Why does your soul dance with flames in the midst of my ice age?
I need your warm. I need your fire.
I am frozen lumber in the middle of
December.

Two Virgos meet; an occurrence far from promiscuous.
As the ******. Sensual, but modest.
Like silver beauty that would never lose purity, no matter how potentially pleasing she may be.
Quiet,
but touch the right spot, and you’d never hear silence again.
We love shattering the alignment of the planets. Misconfiguring.
It was the one thing that made us clean. It brought me joy. It brought him joy. Exploding together with salty sweat and saliva. Like white constellations bursting at the end of lifetimes, heated by love and light. Becoming one another in hasty motions, fast and slow. Soft and hard. Wet and loud. Slapping, punching, biting, *******, licking, kissing, done.
Losing purity with each stroke, until we reach clarity once again.
So is it irony, or am I just too *****?
The stars make patterns that tell me I am to be slight in my attempts to fornicate. I will be admired for my beauty. My resilience to resist. Resist him, resist her, resist what those will force upon you.
Trust in the skies. The stars expect me to fight this urge. Remain a ******. Stay pure. Do not destroy your youth.
But when two virgos meet, the urge is unbearable. The resistance is no more. Slight eye contact is the way to the soul, the way to become one, to ******, and return.
A brief escape, but we always return.
In the eyes of two virgos is endless pain. I see his when he comes. In his wide eyes, open and forgiving. Vulnerability is what he needs and I see what he cannot hide. We two virgos come together as one. We cannot deny.
These two virgins have vanished and will never be again.
We are two gorgeous arrangements of light reminded to be less.

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at ****** are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to **** you
to **** anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art

In the greenest of our valleys
  By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace—
  Radiant palace—reared its head.
In the monarch Thought’s dominion—
  It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
  Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
  On its roof did float and flow,
(This—all this—was in the olden
  Time long ago),
And every gentle air that dallied,
  In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
  A winged odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,
  Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
  To a lute’s well-tuned law,
Bound about a throne where, sitting
  (Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
  The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
  Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
  And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
  Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
  The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
  Assailed the monarch’s high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn!—for never morrow
  Shall dawn upon him desolate !)
And round about his home the glory
  That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
  Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,
  Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
  To a discordant melody,
  While, like a ghastly rapid river,
  Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
  And laugh—but smile no more.