Strange music shook the mourning hour - waking
crash landing dreams, my sleepy ways forsaken
Til under other slumber I fell
to walk a lilting lake, green lily pads to float me
White petaled boats, lotus watery bloomed
other worlds sailed my dreaming room
strange music froggy
deeply toned

I have begun to
Stiffen up

When a particular word
Walks into the room

This word is an intimidating and
Curvaceous woman

With crimson red lips and
A horrid laughter that leaves me

With reddened, chafing ears
And misted vision

Have I fallen victim?
To Beauty’s dear friend

Insecurity, a wide mouthed *****
Whom manifests in every human’s features

The zit above my brow
Or the scar along my lip

In actuality Insecurity seems
Unaware of her duty to ruin me

Instead she has allowed Beauty
To ****** my subconscious

For beauty has crawled in my skin
And made herself quite comfy

She has reddened my lips
Given me corn silky hair and height

Everyone loves her and the
Glimmer that she has put in my eyes

That shine is actually the sheen
Of foggy tears

But what admirer
Gives a **** about that?

This beast; Beauty
Within my skin

She is all
That I am good for

imagine yourself                                                                                                                                                          here,

                                                                               at the beginning
                                                                                                  and end
                                                                               of all things

                                                     where a mass of unthoughts points vaguely


to a blank center-->



                                                                       ^where desires converge^
and where a sovereign evanescence
                                       wheels your neoteric self upon the world. silently;

        steaming boundaries condensate
                                            along that transfinite faultline
                                                                                pressing through existence;

                         lightning summoned to our complacent
                                                                         belief in peace.

A cold wind blows into my soul
like a ghost dances
to the beat of a heart that's been broken
by the promise of words.  
Until, there is no more time left to ache
for what has not fallen
from the air you breathe
to be seen or heard.

Your silence speaks inside of me,
calling out to be tears
selfishly chaining this cold wind
inside of my soul,
to remain.  
All that I love has been painted
by the promise.................
of your words,
and the sweetest sound I know
is your voice
caressing my name.