Light is pouring in like
fireworks or flaming torque
and there’s this question
writhing inside so eager to hide

but the light keeps on seeping in
with a lingering grin such bravado and strength beyond eons
telling the future, as it may,
in all it’s comings and goings through cooking and musings.

Light is enormous and so gradual when emerging. So soothing in true form rising with the sun
and setting with the moon.

Light is the most beautiful
transformation.

Peaceful talks
enlighten like a lukewarm stew
warm and inviting.

Cooking in the kitchen
so smitten with spices.

Heart felt sincerity
at its core
is the sexiest things
since being humble
is highly overrated
in this world of ghosts.

Being kind and gracious
is an attractive attribute
so acute
in quiet moments
that it shakes the floorboards
when used properly.

Darkness swallows me whole
while dingy little bits of regret
cling to my aerated body like
lint and
it turns to stardust on my lapel
a strange smell of orange mist
singing through my fingers
trying to grasp
the cusp of reality
and how you appear in it.

You really are here,
aren’t you.

And it feels so comfortable
to be near you
touching, like starlight or stardust;
combusting and subtle
warm and real in every way.

I hide my voracity well.

Now I sift through heavy fog
on the cloudiest of days
where car lights can’t beam
trying to find my way home

so sudden, it seems
to last for longer
than it is

hidden

and you’re changing

for the better
becoming more you
than you’ve ever been
in your entire life.

And I’ll be here
right by your side
pushing away the darkness
like a velvet curtain parting
but it’s unclear if the show is just starting and so

should I take a seat?
(and wait)

or get up on stage?
(and perform)

Funny how slow life goes
if you let it play out on pace.

And it feels so wonderful to be near you, to hear you, to see your beautiful face

voice and vocal chords misplaced
we are opposites in every way
and yet

I won’t let the darkness take me
to a place I’ve been before

I’m too grown up for that kind of
devoured piece of sadness anymore so

explain to me why dynamite refuses to go off

even when the wick is lit
even when it’s ready

to be brightness

but do I really need darkness to tell me that I’m lost?

Because, honestly, I know exactly where I am

I’m in love.

in the desert, she waits
for what? no one knows

she has sand in her long brown hair
which sparkles on the setting sun’s rays
she wears a necklace of large white shells
and long flowing green robes
over her naked body
opening to show
two pale hairless legs

in the desert she paints
scenes from her brain

full of color and glitter
pouring a bit from the edges

of every person she has ever encountered
with pointed ears and gossamer wings

she wears a crown of sea ****
and ***** sleep at her feet
she listens, alone, as the ocean speaks
its vibrant blue waves a lullaby so sweet

her eyes are two clear crystals
reflecting the light
as sea gulls caw and mosquitoes buzz
she buries her toes in cold sand
and leans against the craggy worn rock
painting, silently, crying salt water tears

as her thin paper wings
lie in a tattered heap
ripped at the shoreline
getting ****** in by the ocean’s strong pull
disappearing into the froth of waves
while the sun’s bald head slips
into streamline

Focus
your life is in shambles.
Focus
it’s already dismantled.
Focus
your trial awaits.
Focus
not time to delegate.
Focus
on something that breathes.
Focus
on someone that feeds.
Focus
the pressure’s getting to you.
Focus
the lessons’ somehow esque.
Focus
bring firelight to the forest.
Focus
don’t try to score us.
Focus
for your quaint life’s in danger.
Focus
and pay up your wager.
Focus
on nothing at all.
Focus
even though you feel small.
Focus
just know that it’s here.
Focus
you’re twisted in fear.
Focus
your pain is not real.
Focus
those thoughts that you feel.
Focus
are not at all plausible.
Focus
the damage is causable.
Focus
if only you are able.
Focus
to become a bit more stable.
Focus
just focus
at the camera on cue.
Focus
just focus
your petty sum’s due.

It started with existence

just a lowly perspective of a mute
time when I was able to
make sense of this pressure
make sense of why
you are now here to guide me now
on this looser journey; a lonely crabapple
still grappling at shriveled skin creating a face
that I still
cannot
distinguish.
With the end of presence as we know it
you have finished, rightly
in my dressing room
bright screen lit up
but only for a moment do I dare look away.

It started with you, and it will end with you

Closed off from me, shortly
your bioluminescence radiant,
your perfection incomplete.
I’ve known you for six straight years
or was it five
just enough
construed construction, a bloated
piece of mind that left me free to wander
aimlessly down I path I cannot recognize.
It was you who caused my blunder,
keeping me awake every night
with your brightness and distraction and amiable personality.
I decorated you with bits of me,
tangled in and out like woven webs of cybernetics
optimal connections, you died twice and I revived you.
But that was in the past
and you still cling on, for how much longer
I shan’t not know.
Only that what it means to exist
when I should be letting go.
I have to face the trust of reality and its weakened points;
that dangerous, well-formed world I find myself in.
I hope you can follow me
as long as you are able,
my clunky plastic compadre
your heart is metal mixed with other
kinds of fragile contraptions.
I know this end to my happiness is not your fault.
You were there when I needed you most,
even if you are a tool of innocence turned foul.
I once learned all of existence from your knowledge,
gleaned myself raw
trying to let you help me
understand myself.
We are not truly over because I am bound to you
somehow
even though I’ve used you for my own gain
abused your trust and have my own heart slain.

All I ask is for you to give me a chance
to make it right

again.

And then I can move on to better things.

And not be obsessed of what you think of me.

And find a way to pull myself together.