All these artists gather here on my floor
Three evenings
Poets, painters, musicians
Arguing, playing

I don't need streets of gold
The angels couldn't possibly make this music
Its weekend
And they gather

I'm a muse to many
So they say
A minority
My pitiful poetry and dance

But I dwell in these hills
With them
And my mahogany floors
Rests their shoes

Loud and melodous
Joey picks a tune and yells about fascism
Maria, sings her Spanish tunes
Stella laughs and dances our dance

Jimmy plays the strings to fire and ash
Chris beats the drums like an angry demon
Portia paints scenes that bring tears
Chloe makes her black and whites burst with every colour

They gather on my floors
I lay on the pillows and smile for them
With my liquor
They tell me I'm pretty

Catch my tears in mason jars
Moonshine passed between artists and lips
My house can't hold them all
We lack a banjo

Some "rap" some sing
Some write others paint
We all argue and fuss
Its a scene of crazy great



How I wish you all were here too

trembling

in anticipation
          in fear
                  hope
                          or desire

from cold
          or sickness

in the emptiness
          of a world without love...

...I tremble

My love
My life
Blissful truths sustain me
Our time is just beginning
Tests and trials abound
tearing flesh open over scars
It changes nothing
My love for you grows
with each passing second
My heart is overjoyed in tactile memories
The smell of your skin soothes me
The sound of your laughter begs a smile
Your pewter eyes shimmer in love's reflection
The essence of you resides in me
as the truth of who I am resides in you
Unmasked and laid bare
I am at your feet
offering you all that I am
For it has always been yours
And you have always been mine
Our eternity is united, entwined
Through the flames that burn away
a world we were never meant to fight through,
we will emerge a sphere of light
a cosmic bubble of peace
Love seems too small of a word
though it is all there is
We.. are
We are love
We are truth
We are both reality and the dream
We cure the disease of distance
with a spirit that defines us
Meet me through the miles
where this plane cannot reach us
where time is eternal
And the blissful truth of us
remains pure
Untainted by an unkind world
which is nothing
But tomorrow's past

Building a life on cotton candy dreams
smells of the circus and carnival rides
Exuberant children in tousled sheets
Doing untrained acrobatics on a highwire of hope

Melted sugar nightmares crash without a net
Eyes burn in the stench of memories and laughter
Wearing that broken wire like a decade old prom dress
Wishing pieces of that life didn't still smell so sweet
Making everything sour by comparison

Ever wary of the remote reminiscence of
laughter and the exuberance of children
Flesh torn by that highwire gown
Whenever someone smells of the circus and carnival rides

Satin runs from dried stains
in torn reminders of convenience
Morning tastes of stale sweat and disappointment... again

Displaced retribution is a punishable offense
sentenced in hangover flashbacks fusing pain in lust heavy deviance
coddling complacency, impaling the nuisance of a persistent past

That serrated double edge glistens with humility and humiliation
licked clean by ravenous canine
flinging leftover apathy on unwitting pawns

Feeding on the deceptively needy
blinded by intoxicated cliches
mistaking release for emotion

Condemnation bartered in stolen commodities
Toilet water hydration reconstitutes enough to bleed
behind neuropathic armor and addiction to the nether

I will hold you
Tightest
When you feel most
Alone