When I was seventeen, my favorite color was blue
We humans haven't been able to see the color blue until recently in our vast evolution
and seeing it now doesn't make us profound but it's a step in the right direction
Then the list began forming
What else am I seeing less of
My friend is by her bed sobbing at his soul's departure
and all I see is her heart's defeat
All she sees is the victory
that means
no more blue battered skin
no more concealing the outbursts of her mother-in-law's
single worst living and breathing regret,
no more blue skies watched from the window, stuck inside
But I just tell her that I'm sorry for her loss
Because I couldn't yet see her shade of blue
Her face was drifting
So I reached for the ocean and let it rock me away
Tell me a story
while I fall asleep to your baptizing sway
about the teal touch of a careful hand
the stark blue strike of a lover
and the midnight blue comfort of the house you grew up in
I want to tap into my synesthesia and hear your every word colored with your every pain, your every joy, and your every breath
I want us to see each other as we are,
not as we would like to be
Our blue veins sustain our lives
and our blue hearts aren't to be hidden aside
Let's stand in this wide ocean of many shades of blue and let us see it all

The pursuit of
oneness-
togetherness-
humanity-
is in the creation of something
for
everyone
and
everything.
the possibilities are endless
reach to where the individual creations intersect one another,
there you'll find a holy matrimony of pure unity.
the pulse that you feel when the ocean's current syncs with your heartbeat-
like the moon making love to the cave of your soul where you keep your chained desires of expression on hold for the moment when you finally feel the push of something that cannot be touched, seen, or controlled
free.
expression.

Cleanliness is next to godliness.
The state of my room during my adolescent exodus from god would serve as the devil's side of the coin.
But, sometimes the details need to get shattered and scattered about until you see that the lord never left your skin.
Or hers.
Or ours.
Or theirs.
And when I touch you, I can feel the electric pulse of god coming home.
When I dance, I feel the lightning shooting from my heels into the core of the earth and back again to strike whomever is kept in their seat.
Together we are the holiness that arises underneath the sheets or within an embrace on this years worst luck day.
Religion begs to differ,
but together we are god and the details aren't important.

If you crave
discovering the pit
of fire,
shower the floor
with your coverings
and summon lust
under white linen
while my hungry
eyes make a
meal of you.

Or, if you
fantasize of glowing
gates drenched in
golden glory,
keep silent
prayers tucked under
your tongue,
and don’t let
God hear you
say my name.

with this pen in
my hand
and your warm fingers
filling the
spaces between mine,
I swear
upon the stars
that we
will never die.

Soft and smooth, I am not
married yet but
the bed knows me
well.

Jazz hands, sucker
punch, daintily like
ballet -- I am in
full bloom.

Crescendo with my
fingertips, petunia,
rose. The bed knows
me well.

Warm, disgust,
the ****** of the orchestra.
Plush, a slight stir
and a deep breath.

I marry in the bowels
of the night, ink,
glint stars. Lovingly and
pressing, I do
my own.