In an attempt to draw out the scenes
I find myself unable to think
of a worthy vessel for true means,
of how to make sense of this new ink.
My dreams shine clear through infrequent sleep,
each action and wish mere thoughts away.
Yet open eyes draw dark doubts that creep
and reign through all hours of my day.
I wish for profound sounds to carry
each person to pure rapture and bliss,
but more weights strengthen on top of me,
and render brief happiness amiss.
My sole desire rests in others,
to move the way notes in me vibrate,
through my own loud message that covers
all ways to make feelings resonate.
Now I curse how long my tongue's been dry,
unable to assert its substance.
I never throw words that haunt in lie,
which reasons my constant reluctance.
Someday my lines will be more than lines,
but emotions that reverberate.
My inner self that tries and defines
all my actions as more than just fate.

September 4th, 2011

We become selfish with times like these,
we want pity for the demon dragging us down because no one understands him like you do.  
All for what?
Others have been through these struggles, they’ve lived through this storm already and came out survivors,
they keep moving and they don’t stop living.
We want to be selfish, but life eggs us to move forward,
to keep our chins up;
look at the sky and watch as the clouds move forward; unstoppable.  

Survivors never stop, they keep plowing through the times and the sun will rise again.  
And when it does, you need to be stronger.
A new person who understands;
A new person who is now not only a survivor, but a warrior of life:
Someone who has seen the ugly and lived to tell the ugly side of life.  

Survive and help others like you.
Don’t become lost, when you become lost,
you’re not you anymore,
and that’s the last thing they ever wanted to happen.

Believe me,
They’re sorry for leaving you and its hard for them as well, but keep your chin up for them and yourself. No one meant for this to happen, but it is.  
Face hell, and be stronger than the demon holding onto you because you will lose yourself and you will perish along with the memories they left with you.

(Survive and carry them with you; take them wherever you go.  
When you do that, they’ll be there too.  
They’ll be right next to you smiling).

You look better
When you're smiling
Doors of ivory hide unease

Your smile looks better
When your spiraling
Down down chutes of self appease

And I look better
When you're defiling
All the things that live to please.

You look lost, a stitched-woman, voiding the wind in your hair.  
Like face-free-eyes lighting a temple in their reflection
you glare knotted in fall-spokes dreaming of winter.
-Tea is steaming from your glass -
God has turned left-hand memories into ports beneath skin
filling in the dreams of your frozen hair, like veins.  
A gold-oil spills from your lips as you breathe  
in my mouth - Your glass still steaming -

When you come back: Will lay me in your reflection and listen
for the sound of my hair in your hands?

Your smile
tastes of mint smoke.
It’s refreshing
against the taste of my tears
and the drink you gave me
to stop them.
Your eyes
trace their way down
my body
seeing
knowing
touching
every little sweet spot
long forgotten.
Your hands
melt into mine;
a connection revisited.
And for a moment
I see in your gaze
that (love lust longing) we shared.
I blink
and it is gone
in the moonlight
and blinking light
from your clock.
So I close my eyes
and let the smell of tobacco
in your hair
and the smile against my lips
bring me
to a dark connection
I know far too well.
We can be together.
Just one more time.
Just for tonight.

shut the bedroom door
the lock clicks as it throws
the room into darkness
lying on my back I can see
my index finger trace
a satellite’s trajectory across
the smoky black curtain
spread above us
my eyes scan the horizon
searching for Saturn
after all, it is my
favorite planet
a sudden flash of light
the tail of a comet screams
past in the silence of space
tiny bits of rock, born on
the other side of existence
paint bright red lines
through the atmosphere
and land on your pink cheeks
ripe from the sun’s caress
they’ve come all this way
to become the freckles
below those perfect eyes
we are floating quietly
beyond all we’ve ever known
for an eternity and a half
just so that we can return
and see the world
come to ruin

I died once,
just to see what it was like
(it doesn’t matter how,
so I won’t bother saying)
my curiosity had bested me
and so I did what I had to
in order to see

Like Thomas,
my dying eyes were flooded
by white mice and roses,
all in constant motion as my
eyelids finally shut
although the darkness had
embraced me absolutely,
a kind of clairvoyance
unknown to me picked me
up and swept me away
still blind, I found my footing
and I waited
and waited

Silently, a light broke above me,
falling thickly onto my shoulders
like condensed milk
and then, from somewhere
a voice spoke, tragic and booming:

“YOU’RE EARLY.”

I winced at the reverberations
echoing into nothingness
I couldn’t muster any reply
beyond a half-trembling shrug

There was a quick snap,
and the peculiar feeling of standing
on a trapdoor that’s about to drop
and, at last, I was back;
returned to my mortal coil,
gulping breaths of air
cold and deep and new

I have looked into your eyes—
into your dreams and through your mind.
Watching you look over me,
I see naught but wasted time.