He was a morning lullaby,
and I, a sleepless night.
So, lay in my bed hypnotized
fading and felt right.
Down in the lawn
early dew,
I lean against the steady pecan,
the only stable thing I ever knew.
Silken sheets
and rosy eyes
I am a set piece
in a game of lies.
Sometimes, think I've up and died
at the waking shore.
Yes, he be a morning lullaby,
come to sing once more.

Eyes of hazel
she is April,
showering all my days,
she is killer, I am Abel.
Evil; in her ways.
Walking backwards,
the sweet disaster.
And teases like
a winter's blackbird.
Mirrors,
where I see her
how they make,
make things clearer.
Pacing down familiar stairs
chanting old, empty prayers,
looking for ghost of months gone by
here she come, there she lie.

I never wanted to reply
with truth.
You lose me,
I am loose.
Of ships in bottles
trapped in a forever sail,
bitter air
inhaled.
Perfume and closed curtain
in my solitude,
hope you aren't hurting.

Gnarled heart
growing apart
from all I hold dear.
Branches to ribs, oh spears.
I am overgrown
yet never let alone,
twigs and leaves all split my bones.
Outside, looks so trim
but I cannot let him in.
Twisted beyond what is grim.
Forest forever,
wish a man luck on his endeavor
to cleave a gnarled heart down.

As I walk an all too quiet house
glass under my feet,
I look for the whereabouts,
the place my sanity retreats.
A temple modeled after my greatest intentions
and point of all attention.
I hear the clocks
ticking, a warning - looking, a response.
Reminding my woes
of the sky I'll never know.
This home is made of memories
not concrete nor tile or trees.
Built off of everything I want to be,
how I devote my character to thee.
Silence,
my only tyrant.
My pain and misery,
deliver me
from this toxicity.
Come back, knock at the door
anything to make it louder once more.

Hands,
sleeves pulled over.
head lowered.
And
touch me slower,
your soul, I beg closer.
Barren land,
I am
a temperament of dry sands.
Hands,
break me
and build me into something of sensuality.

Sometimes, when I look up at the sky I see
more faces smiling back at me.
That make me clean,
wash dark indigo over the scene.
Of the twisted human being,
our body’s simple liberty.
Sunshine never brought me glee
because under the light, much you can see.
Everyone has security,
secrets whispered cautiously.
The stars, they weep with me
for all we cannot teach
For that reason we remain
out of mandkinds reach.

A funny thing,
the colors of my longings.
Much like watching
autumn pass by
through the windows of a car ride.
A furious compilation
of the various imagined dreams
I will never acquire.

An astronaut,
sad and alone.
Came from below;
land of unknown.
To take a chance
and,
ask Venus to dance.
Mankind tends to forget
about what they once loved
especially because they never look up above.
With all her glory and lavender light,
distracted he was
from his infamous flight.
And blissful as ever,
down he fell
bid her farewell.
The universe, it works oddly
a man in love
falls with his whole body.

And I built shrines in my eyes to you
to mourn what I never had but still held onto.
Dove into an ocean of profound blue
only to come out still nothing anew.
I look out at fig trees
ponder like the Greek’s great Socrates
question my disease,
the words I can’t release.
My life spinning all around him
orbitals of light grown dim.
Through space you cannot swim
from the sins you have been condemned.
If I am mad as they say
how do I still walk the driveway?
Worship on the Lord’s day;
get down on my knees and pray?

Faithful I am, still, to the life I have lived
however disguised.
Loving, as I will when all has died.
Everything you’ve seen is advertised,
a movie set in frames
the tape up in flames.
How tired she is of playing your games,
mouths running to blame.
Me? I am just fine.
Owing it all to bottles on bottles of sparkling wine,
to you and your redesigned
view of the dividing line.

If you wake a girl from her dreams
the gentle chug of a mind’s machine
will it break down, by all means?
It’s better to let her softly scream.
Than distract from the will of inspiration,
of art and death's flirtation.
Continue the persisting narration
speak her mind, give it standing ovations!

The color of cherries
of blood and wine.
The feeling of passion,
your skin on mine.
It’s on that sweatshirt
and your face too.
A can of cola
my favorite lipstick hue.
The way we always talk
neon lights at 4 o’clock
in the morning.
The kind of color that makes me deny
everything my mother ever told me.
The color of you and I.