Tender as a fallen leaf floating to the ground. The will of this universe is hidden safe and sound. Floating up in La La Land, a simple phrase is found: Te Amo



If this life wills those words into fruition, and if this body finds not what it has been looking for, but what it needs, well, wouldn't that be worth the struggle?



Can what was once a miserable world of rejection and sadness, disappointments full of callous, negative thoughts and hurtful endings, turn into something fresh and new?



Tender as the heart will let it hear my sighs, these soft moans of personal pleasure are emulating from my brain circuitry, wiring them unknown to me.



Will love try me on for size?



As long as the leaves grow brittle so when they're stepped on they create a sound so loud it cracks and all that's left is a gentle inside wash of feelings



tickling my sensors



speaking to me from the other side.

Calling my name softly

letting go of my pride…

After Hell and back

to hear your voice

all deep and gravely

on the other end

of the phone receiver

makes all the difference



When my belly's empty

and I'm about to collapse

Oh yeah, I already did!

I called you up

biting my lip

and you answered

on the second ring

enthusiastic about

some new job thing



I'm a foodie, I said

I noticed, you answered



I'm a girl with a BIG

appetite, who cares so much

about other people's well-being

that she burns out quicker than

a single sheet of paper

to a lighter's fine flame

when the going gets rough

her thin skin gets tough

what a shame!



After hell and back

there's no more of

the same



is there…?



What's left is but the ash

stuck to the bottom

of the bin in fine dust



and after hell has burnt me

to a crisp and worry seeps in

I try to not cry

but tears invade the corners

of my eyes

stinging and ringing

a fear so contrite



but if I avoid the things

that scare me

I'll never find freedom

and that's all my charred

feet want--release from

first time jitters--



and you're real



you're actually real



and that's the scariest part of all



it really is time now

to break down my wall

I haven’t stayed up this late since college or maybe it was sooner

I just wasn’t paying attention.

It’s 6:15 am on a Sunday morning and I saw the sunrise

covered in a white shawl
like my love life in mourning
but where people dress all in white, not in black
to celebrate.

Like how I will wear a rainbow dress or a colorful suit on my wedding day
to truly reflect
who I am
inside.

Caps Lock and Auto Correct are both a curse and a blessing; so is pulling an all-nighter.

It’s just me and the silent world, ghost birds and distant early traffic.

It’s just me and my lonely heart
empty of all the the racket.

I have given away my favorite college leather jacket
the one with the red yarn
woven on its sleeves,

but it was time
to say goodbye.

Hello adulthood
captured in lockdown
hidden under blue medical masks and KN95 and hand sanitizer and face shields and endless new cycles on TV.

It’s funny how chill the universe seems
under the guise of no sleep.

I forget how this will affect me, maybe it will tear me apart, maybe it will bring me together?

I am weak from the journey my body’s taking me on, a head spin from 1960s, 1970s and 1980s rock to late 90s and 00s emo and strange music that has no genre yet.

I found out that Tool music videos are mini horror films and I cannot stand it or sit through it.

Stanley Kubrick was my fascination last night, as was QAnon and Incel and conspiracy theories and Kdramas and Korean manga and fantasy comics including witches with their hair chopped off. That’s a wrap!

What is “emo” anyways? Emotional?

Yes, I’ve always been emotional and hyper-sensitive and an empathy and a simpatico person. Who will be my match now, after the tables have turned? After the fire has gone out? Who will light my Olympic flames once again and burn me bright?

I have no idea, but I’m ready to find out…

How can you be alone
when you are surrounded by loved ones
who keep pushing you
to make good decisions?
Is to be alone
a curse or something even more
sinister?
Like the villain
you were caught believing you
were the hero this whole time.

What a waste!

Gone are the days of innocence
when adulthood rears its sneaky head
manipulating everyone’s bodies
to grow older as you watch.
Loneliness is a state of being unwanted
whereas aloneness is oneness
unless it becomes insanity
unless it becomes a burden
and the hedonist demons start to play
unravel their spiked red tails
and whip your sore shins
into a sorry state of
absurd oblivion.
Unsanctioned, that’s what being alone
really means
even when surrounded by great people
it becomes a selfish need.
If it were possible
you would leave this villainous life style
and become wind or sea or sky
in order to dissipate your cells
and let caution breed kissing
your petty sorrows goodbye.

When being alone is nothing more
than a personal choice gone sour
It is conflicting as the need to stay alive
knowing you are the bad guy in the story
never to be the victor only the victim.
The one that loses at your own
cankerous game of depression.

Ha!

What does it mean to be alone at this age?
It means an infinite of possibilities
to the point that is becomes dangerous
and all the skills you’ve ever known
are useless here
in the wilderness of nightmares.
They all have beady red eyes.
They all have thick red horns.
They all want your full attention.
They all want your heart shorn.
They all want your blood and veins and skin and brains.

But be warned!

For they find you just when you’ve realized
you’re the only villain in your life
and the only hero too.
There’s ways to get out
it’s true
it’s true

but you are seduced by your
notorious negativities
that urge you to stop
before you’ve even began.
So what’s a little girl like you
supposed to do
in a feral life unplanned?

Sometimes when I

briefly touch you

I want to sink into

the warmness of your skin

all toasty from that internal heater

you call a body an it's wonderful

how so much heat can come

from such a delicate frame

or maybe  you are my delicacy

to be deliciously eaten

during times of crisis

I only have to think of

the slight curve

of your pink smile

to find warmth.

the instrument that he plays
is a bass
and I got it all wrong
until tonight
then I realized
that it fits his personality perfectly

all smooth curves
emitting a deep thrum
brown shellac wood
large like he is and
why did I not actually picture it
correctly until just
a moment ago
not knowing quite
how to feel

and this is a strange
upheaval of the senses

and this is a strange
revelation

so obvious in its answer
yet changes everything

and I fight a growing urge
to be bound within
the tight confines of his brain
the strings of love pulled taught
unveiling the maroon curtain
pulling away the burgundy drape
finding words in which to contemplate
this obscene existence
showing nothing
yet revealing everything while
carefully shoving my memories
somewhere deep in the
rhythmic trenches

where his somber music plays.

Greased wheels, I knew you once.
I loved to balance like a child.

Roaming the paved streets; riding is like flying.

I knew you when the store held you back.
I chose you from behind handlebars with purple streamers.

Your tires silently carried me to classes,
each brake stop signaled that we were close to our arrival.

I sat on your worn black seat like I was on a throne of sorts.
Even though that seat is tattered with one rip on the side,
all I saw in you was my own **** pride.

Spokes, I knew you once.
I played your tune each journey that we went on.
No hill was ever tall enough, no road was ever too bumpy.

Gears, I knew you once.
Click, Lock, Click
sometimes you were tight and never let me ride
sometimes you were loose and my feet went flying ‘round too fast for me to catch
                     what you were doing.

I knew you once, when time was young.

There's a black cat

walking flat,

his back feet

dipped in

marshmallow droppings.

His tail flicks

like a reed in the swamp,

and he can't

help but run through legs

swiftly

hopping on furniture

daintily

belly all soft and white.

Silent is he,

catching the almost-full moon

in his bright whiskers.

Padded paws,

a black tail snaking

twitching as he

squeezes to rest

in tight spaces

wide eyes as green as

a kiwi fruit

with the seeds cut out.

He bats his toy freely,

ears up then

hears a rustle

at the screen door

and sits

transfixed

but only

for a moment.

Dear, let me tenderize you like meat slap the silliness from heat bubbling bubbling bubbling to a boil.

Dear, let me technically arouse you by letting each word escape like exasperation, a depletion of the senses as every finger or pressure point examines your body from head-to-toe.

Dear, let me be no longer ashamed to touch or hold you close, let our breathing and beating submerge into higher thinking.

Incinerating flames that lick the grate.

Dear, let me dive deep into the crevice of your brain, all mushy grey matter, all the same.

Dear, let me slice it open and **** out all the juices, licking licking licking each curve and crevice,

My supple pink snake-like tongue reaching deeper deeper deeper into your mind.

Dear, let me sink into your reality, bit by bit, and piece by piece until cohesiveness lays its eggs inside the deep hole within you.

Dear, let me scratch the surface, trading dimes for dust and pecs for fluff.

Let me swim in the depths of your hectic personality.

Let me get to know you and all your originality.

Let me breathe in your values and slurp up your mature decisions.

Let me caress your life like two bulbous lights that hang from the existence of time.

Let me illuminate you, serenade you, quiz you while ******* your sense of self-esteem.

Dear, let me dream your dreams.

Dear, let me sink my ***** mind games into your wet social brain.
Don’t let the pressure get to you.

Passion may play a key part in the sway!

Let me suckle your sweet thoughts, play with your deriving initiatives.

Let me hold your ideas in the sweat of my thighs, burning with desire to see myself through cobalt eyes.

Let me feel the hot ***** of your ethical intentions and clear apparitions.

Let me analyze your prerogatives and **** with your distribution methods.

Dear, let me fiddle with your political views, (in the “other room”) and tickle your soft solutions on creating a world of doom.

Let me ****** your sustainability, flirt with your progressive mindset, and squeeze your plump ambitions until they burst!

Dear, let me push gently on your sensitive issues with your parents until they become less apparent.

Let me stroke your disagreements with foreign policy until they shriek with mercy!

Let me take you further and touch your blind senses to a pink paranoia of retentive defensive pretenses.

Let me cuddle and snuggle your sense of self-worth and pleasure your brain with mind-bending words.

Dear, let me dance with your intelligence
until we sink into oblivious mind-*** bliss…….

when i think of you
i get all warm and tingly
it’s a sensation
i don’t want to part with
quite yet
and i see versions of you everywhere i go
in clouds
in comics
in places unexpected
and i wonder where that text will bring me
and i wonder if we’ll become closer as friends
and i wonder why i see your face sculpted
by mountain ranges in the distance while driving
the sun setting in its palate of periwinkle
trickling into darkness
your handsome body somehow capturing my interest
and i wonder if i can become a wild explorer
trampling through wind and soot and rain and snow
to finally discover the comrade I was looking for.

Whatever happens

happens.

Life is funny that way
giving out happiness like
strange party favors.

Did you really need it?
Or did happiness happen
when you least expected it.

You didn’t ask for this
You didn’t want this at all
but surprise surprise
here it is

not crippling loneliness
not scorching heat
not scant showiness
not bristling meat
not ledges and ground
not jumping but falling
not strings or keys
not waiting or stalling
not bulbous whale blubber
you carved to the bone
in order to make way for a
whole new body
where you feel more at home
you are that new body
you have always been that body
you have always been that person
deep deep inside
deep in the depths
somewhere lies your pride.

You are no longer aching and quaking to hide;
you are utterly now alright alright.

Life is funny that way
sometimes it’s full
sometimes it’s empty
sometimes it’s sadness
sometimes it’s angry
sometimes it’s loving
sometimes it’s hairy and smelly.

Whatever happens

happens

not being scared
but being brave
not being attached
not being saved
not acting like a child
by putting on a show
not knowing
absolutely
what you do and do not know

You didn’t ask for this
You didn’t want this at all
but surprise surprise
here it is

I am so ready and waiting and
there’s a retraction point between us
where my day off stretches almost
to eternity
I am so ready to touch you and
it feels like the crest of plateau
before the initiation has even started
I am so ready to do what is necessary
to begin like there’s a chess board
and we’re checkmate
the only two pieces left and
I am researching this like crazy
like a sort of ultimate observer
so alien to the unknown future
as it pulses like neurons or electrons
in the brain creating wavelengths
of spastic contractions and
it feels like I’m stepping into
a dark chasm ready to reach inside
the crystal cave lined with diamonds
freshly squeezed from decrepit coal
now shining in their excellence.

Mention the somber
thread of life
linking us together.
Mention the spill of coffee grinds
plummeting on the sticky ground.
Mention the call of hope
being or freeing
a sort of melancholic sound.
Melanin or mulch,
today is a process showing too much.
The brush of time slows,
as predicament distracts from progress,
yet there is something nice between us
and it flowers like small purple
morning glories at dawn.

You make me so giddy inside
nervous like
a warm runny egg.
You are so respectful
of boundaries
which has left me
wanting so much more.
You are a conundrum
always looking, looking, looking
at me causing blood to
flush my round cheeks.
I want to bone your firm ***
and make you ***
till kingdom come.
Cream your pants
and come undone.
You make me so churlish
all writhing inside with
a heavy licentious
attitude equating to
the silent space
between us where
nothing is said
and our eyes meet
but words seem to
stick in my
tarnished throat
choking up
on all those internal
sultry soliloquies
trapped tight
in my esophagus
wanting desperately
to venture forth
through tantalizing
whispers of the heart.
And somehow
I break through
that anxiety
and pour my soul
into your open arms
and you release me
making my fears dribble
out all over my pants and
all over my cheeks
in tears of joy.
You make me anxious
when I'm **** naked
and antsy like string beans
peeling their skins off
to reveal tiny round
little green seeds
not unlike peas.
You make my plant stems
and flowers engorge.
You make the sunlight
within me adored.
You are so kind and careful
by the way you carry
yourself full of warmth
and confidence and balance
and I feel an inability to express these physical desires seeming
endless in their tidings.
I always seem to keep my
****** secrets to myself
because they are bottomless
and embarrassing beyond belief.
But your words seem to
release me and so finally
I can speak.
You are so open and sensual
by the way you observe me
and I find myself burning
alive inside
my guts all squirming
in loose knots  
trying to unravel
these trivial thoughts.
Still wanting to leap
the distance and smother
you with wet kisses
my body is burdened
by natural urges.
These animal instincts
that venture on purges.
You make me so lascivious
by nothing of your
own accord
by the way you look and gaze
deeply into my eyes
for moments at a time
never ending
this joy is never ending
but secretly
I wish I could open you up
enough to hear your
******* screaming.
I wish I could satisfy
your insatiable need
and be able to pleasure you
instead of you pleasuring me.
This relief is somehow firm
and I've done a lot of freeing.
I ache to see your face
aroused and flushed
by something I'm not seeing.

there is this pithless entity

circling round my gut

waxing and waning

folding in infinite measures

like stiff cloth finding creases

that fit



and I caress this part

inside which has no fold

or definite pattern



but there is this power

and it increases as the light

of lesser days burn into night



brightly devouring

all lesser fabrications

willing them to speak

in hushed whispers

bathed by blackness



completely surrounded am I

a vagrant soul departed

yearning for this star of gasses

to not combust but

slowly awaken



and you spark that within me

heavy and unaware

a messy cloth of vibrance

washed and wrung and folded gently

with shaking hands and thumping breath



the atmosphere surrounding

all that is real



enveloping my body as it speaks

of glorious wonders

operating deep

within the cosmos



where air is sealed tight

like a vacuum and



I can't help but breathe in

even though

I know

I'll suffocate

there is this pithless entity
circling round my gut
waxing and waning
folding in infinite measures
like stiff cloth finding creases
that fit

and I caress this part
inside which has no fold
or definite pattern

but there is this power
and it increases as the light
of lesser days burn into night

brightly devouring
all intricate beings
willing them to speak
in hushed whispers
bathed by blackness

completely surrounded am I
a vagrant soul departed
yearning for this star of gasses
to not combust but
slowly awaken

and you spark that within me
heavy and unaware
a messy cloth of vibrance
washed and wrung and folded gently
with shaking hands and thumping breath

the atmosphere surrounding
all that is real

enveloping my body as it speaks
of glorious wonders
operating deep
within the cosmos

where air is sealed tight
like a vacuum and

I can't help but breathe in
even though
I know
I'll suffocate

I just ache
to be touched by you
still swimming in heat
moist and quivering silently
beneath soft black cotton
but in those
fear-mongering moments

I can't move.

Like a statue made of marble
I ache to touch you but I end up
sitting there cold and lifeless
next to you on the bed
thinking of a million ways
in which to stroke you gently
but all we can muster together
is a few brushes of the hand
a head resting on a shoulder
a full-bodied tight squeezed hug
an awkward cheek kiss and

it's excruciatingly painful.

So much tension that builds
and builds and builds and builds
never getting anywhere.

I can feel it penting up in you too
through engorged pupils
shaking knocking knees
fidgeting hands
looks that aren't deadpan
but open and raw and swelling.

There are rises and dips
moments of eclipse
where you and I find comfort
in each other's arms
whether they be wrapped or resting
whether they be hovering just hovering

almost touching

we were almost touching.

Seeing your smile in the doorway
as I left

lanky frame in depth

an ache I cannot
escape

warming the cockles of this here mongrel heart

vast into infinity.

What a funny little cuddle jamboree!

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.

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.

Red buds or beams flicker across my chest
lined and ready like a velvet-lined coffin
for me to take an infinite rest in.
Lips a bright cherry color
but it’s blood that’s caked.
Ruby gems in each earhole
flickering in the cave’s scarce light.
But I’m not dead yet
---just coming back to life---

I'm so **** scared of the future
with death's vast scythe circling
'round my throats about to
slice the stamina right out of me.
I'm so **** afraid of the next step
of what's coming for me which is
completely unknown and foreign.
Death's black cloak resembles a cover shrouding me in darkness
dismantling my sense of safety
threatening to suffocate me.
I'm so **** frightened of finding out how you truly feel about me
deep inside past all this *******.
It's going to be okay but I'm swallowing my tongue because death's cold skull stare is beating my brain to submission and I'm about to topple over from all the weight even though I know

you care about me.

But I'm still terrified

of the truth

whatever it could be.

But I'm still terrified

of venturing forth into

unknown territory

without a plan or a structure
without direction or control
without truly knowing
anything.

I'm so **** scared of the future
that it might tear my skin away
to reveal that I'm only made of
flesh and blood and bone and guts
and not the thick metal and steel that I thought I was made of.

I'm so **** scared of what's coming of finding out something of communicating my feeling to you

because it could change

everything.

And Death's shiny sycthe
still glints

at my quivering throat

and I gulp as I try to be brave
but bravery is not my strong suit.

In a game of one
It’s nice to think that someday
There’ll be a two
In the game called life
Happy endings are the ones
That are created from
Those moments when
The whole world falls apart
And the only way to contain it all
Is by lying under the wooden slats of a bed frame
And feeling the press
Of those sturdy wooden bars
Dig into your head
Because you can’t contain the outcome
You can’t make it just appear out of thin air
Like a filthy magic trick or sleight of hand
Life just doesn’t work that way
It brings heartaches and sickness
Moments where you cannot get out of bed
Mornings where you lie awake
Questioning the just and quick of reality
And the mysteries that lay within it
Embedding themselves wrapped around a system
Of congruent vines that are almost touching
The pole to which to climb
But it all takes time
Moments where your brain is a tyrant
And your dreams are so realistic
That you dare to put forth and live in this
Minutes to minute frame
Ticking by slow or fast or slow or fast or slow
And those dreams speak of fear and wonder
Of grand libraries and future lovers
Of doubts and claims on meetings
That haven’t even happened yet
That is when you have to reach inside
And pull those doubts out
Like the removal of painful wisdom teeth
Crowding your mind
Crowning at the edges
The white poking through pink gums
When you finally realize
That you can’t control
Everything that occurs
No matter how hard you try
And each boundary gets bigger
As the freedom dares to taunt and swallow you whole
In one big gulp
You are Jonah inside that whale
Searching for an answer
You can’t see through the thick wall of baleen
Because the thickness is murky
You sit stubborn waiting
For a miracle to happen
But that miracle is you
And you realize this now
Typing out a poem at three am
When people start to go to sleep
You have just woken up
To reap the benefits of night
And all its flippant grasp
And pull of darkness
But being Jonah
You know that in the belly of the whale
Is not a dangerous place to be in
In fact it’s quite comfortable
Also humbling by making you sit tight
And think to the maximum capacity
About who you are
And where you are going
In this great speck of universe dust
You call home
So much like Jonah after
He escaped the game and emerged
Stronger than ever
Free of childish notions
A fully formed adult
Or at least a resemblance of one
That stepped into the light
After years of dingy darkness
A lift off out of the cavernous hull
Of bright pink flesh that was once his humble abode
For so long he knew of nothing else
And then like you his hands parted the baleen
Like parting thick coarse hair with a hot comb
Head emerging like a second birth into the open blue

In a game of one
It’s nice to think that someday
There’ll be a two
In the game called life
Happy endings are the ones
That are created from
Those moments when
The whole world falls apart
And the only way to contain it all
Is by lying under the wooden slats of a bed frame
And feeling the press
Of those sturdy wooden bars
Dig into your head
Because you can’t contain the outcome
You can’t make it just appear out of thin air
Like a filthy magic trick or sleight of hand
Life just doesn’t work that way
It brings heartaches and sickness
Moments where you cannot get out of bed
Mornings where you lie awake
Questioning the just and quick of reality
And the mysteries that lay within it
Embedding themselves wrapped around a system
Of congruent vines that are almost touching
The pole to which to climb
But it all takes time
Moments where your brain is a tyrant
And your dreams are so realistic
That you dare to put forth and live in this
Minutes to minute frame
Ticking by slow or fast or slow or fast or slow
And those dreams speak of fear and wonder
Of grand libraries and future lovers
Of doubts and claims on meetings
That haven’t even happened yet
That is when you have to reach inside
And pull those doubts out
Like the removal of painful wisdom teeth
Crowding your mind
Crowning at the edges
The white poking through pink gums
When you finally realize
That you can’t control
Everything that occurs
No matter how hard you try
And each boundary gets bigger
As the freedom dares to taunt and swallow you whole
In one big gulp
You are Jonah inside that whale
Searching for an answer
You can’t see through the thick wall of baleen
Because the thickness is murky
You sit stubborn waiting
For a miracle to happen
But that miracle is you
And you realize this now
Typing out a poem at three am
When people start to go to sleep
You have just woken up
To reap the benefits of night
And all its flippant grasp
And pull of darkness
But being Jonah
You know that in the belly of the whale
Is not a dangerous place to be in
In fact it’s quite comfortable
Also humbling by making you sit tight
And think to the maximum capacity
About who you are
And where you are going
In this great speck of universe dust
You call home
So much like Jonah after
He escaped the game and emerged
Stronger than ever
Free of childish notions
A fully formed adult
Or at least a resemblance of one
That stepped into the light
After years of dingy darkness
A lift off out of the cavernous hull
Of bright pink flesh that was once his humble abode
For so long he knew of nothing else
And then like you his hands parted the baleen
Like parting thick coarse hair with a hot comb
Head emerging like a second birth into the open blue

Defecated, or did I say defeated
fated to live this life
barren as loose shoe strings
fraying a little at the ends.
Like a torn T-shirt
I am covered in holes and stains
splotches that just don’t
seem to go away.
Defeated in the mere inches I take
or the hearts that I break

but the only heart I break is my own.
How to pick up the pieces
when I am
piece-less
peaceless, no peace here.
So all I do is clench and worry
and hope that one day defeat
might become a feat
that can actually go somewhere
move someplace out of reach
as I seem to speak
of dreams unaccomplished and maimed
of dreams inferred striking infrared filters
that whisper mere fragments
of my name.

Losing control of the brighter things
that sit and smirk at me as
the twilight immerses itself
in the faint glimmers of reality.
Hold that fractured frigid shock
to myself so tight
it breaks and shatters
vomiting sterilized pom poms
laced with chocolate sticky kisses.
Struck me, Lick me, Luck my
humble circumstances as they dance
on the roof of my mouth
chilly strange deadly
turns to muck in the shmuck
at the corner of my brain.
In one moment I’m there
the next, I’m insane.
Minutes switch by slowly as the
natural drugs kick in
enlightening my sense of well-ebbing stretches
into a glass of string.

I will be okay

I will be alright

I am at peace with myself and the world around me

I feel anger but know it too shall pass

I feel lust and know that it soon shall pass

I feel love and know it will not pass because it is me and everyone else

I will be alright

I will be okay

I will walk into the unknown and find what I was looking for

I will eventually understand

I will understand

I understand

That all is well

even when it’s not

That my boundaries are lacking
and it’s hard to say no and it’s hard to tell the truth and it’s hard to let go and it’s hard to transition and it’s hard to live and love and be in love and be in love with the idea of love

I will be

I will

I

wanting your arms around
my torso squeezing and

sleep deprived caused by
fantasies of you late last night

but i wish you'd wish
lips like ours could touch

again

but better
be smoother and slower
and sweeter like Max & Sylvie

and it could be delightful
if only you'd make more

time for me and it's

painful to want you so much
so visceral, so intensely that
my want is grimy and slimy

dragging my inner ****
in sloppy circles cut
to your exact shape and build

if only, if only
you knew how much i
drooled underneath the covers
last night, shrouded by hunger, blanketed by invigorating horniness
a longing that never seems to go

away

whenever i'm around you

and it's exhausting

My heart is so warm right now

like a toasty marshmallow

all brown and melty

slumping to one side.

Part of me wants more

like a piercing light saber

my desire increases tenfold

three red shafts throbbing

extremely hard and ready to go

when my nostrils take in

your sweet scent. It's nice like

honey baked bread fresh

from the oven or soft like green litchen moss with warmth radiating while watching

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

(again) while cuddling you

letting your body heat fold over me so neat like someone cranked open

a portable blow torch and

started blowing my frozen heart wide open with orange flames

thawing it to room temperature.

Now a tiny piece of pink remains peeking shyly at you in the dark

precariously dangling its delicate

frailty like soft woven spider lace.

Living in fresh hell
is so hard to break.
When the volcano of life
threatens to spill and
burn everything in sight.

Square planes of glass separate me from the bristling trees,
as tall as they seem,
bursting from the ground the glasses flicker,
then gleam.
Striped like the thick rings,
they sing they sing they sing.
Hiking by myself,
gazing at clean air and a sense of free fall.
See the bay across the way.
Let the greenness seep into my weary clothes
and now I know
how these square planes of grass see,
(through me…)

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.

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.

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.

Riding this horse past oblivion

feeling wind shout past

sharp shoulder blades

long hair whipping strong

grinding both thighs

into these browning flanks.

This horse is built from

sticky pecan sugar

such spice sprinkled

and dusted whilst the rider

flits past us stream like

arrow fringes near the cusp

all harrowing and musky.

Horse of caramel and nuts

sticking together like childish

tar painted gold and copper

colors shining past in rounded

muscles as the horse pushes

through the gulch he glances down at us with coal inlaid eyes as rough as sandpaper against raw wood

trying not to get caught up

in sliced splinters but careful now

before the horse of brown mud

runs us down trampling us to

wet ****** pulp so wait until

he has settled down to sleep

and then we can climb the mountains by escaping his

cramped cave of dreams

which only reveals how tricky

slips can be.

Loads of bubble wrap piled behind

and it crackles like how a stomach

gets twisted on itself after

eons of sleep

decoding it's diaphragm to follow

the blips and beeps and bleeps

encrusted on trusting

a tight gut reaction to

wanting to touch



you.



But waiting is so difficult.



Loads of suds creep up

forming in cysts or scabs

upon stomach encasings

all slimy and orange inside

with a stretchy cover all

deep royal purple with

dark pink veins coursing

through it encoding the

rapture of film recording while

the lining inside gets all clammy

with arousal secretly clenching

this yearning and aching just

wanting to touch



you.



But waiting is so difficult.



It's a difficult, messy procedure that leaves the body exposed if it comes in contact to actual skin and flush and heat and mucus but



it is a necessary step to

colloquial banter within

the clustering of organs all

internally arguing while the

overwhelmed brain tries to keep order and the genitalia hums

all quiet in the corner

because she knows she runs



the show.



And it's funny because the brain knows he'll have to give in to

the actual world of living folks

and climb out of his bundled

fabulous fantasies in order to

make reality plausible.



And in wanting you



and in waiting



I've found myself in visceral shock

to the point where I panic and

all that's jumbled up and bound inside me seems to clench tighter.



And I fear that in waiting for your mutual touch



and I fear that in wanting to be with you so much



I'll collapse under the weight

and never get up.



Loads of words hide beneath me

resting in tubes that resemble

the small intestines in looping

nests of unbridled questions.

Will it be enough to see you

and not touch you?

Will it be enough to talk

with you and not kiss you?

Will it be enough to be chaste

and respectful when all my brain needs to do is test you?

When all my brain wants to do

is clobber you whole, chew, then swallow, spitting out bones?

Life is so hard sometimes.

It pulls, taking the table cloth
along with it.
It strengthens, taking the tide
along with it.
It chides
talking the moon
out of its misery
wishing it were daybreak
but when day arrives,
the moon wishes it were night.
Round and round we go
on this roller coaster called life.
Hanging on is so difficult
with responsibilities tugging
at the mainframe
about to crumble apart like
break pads crumbling under
the weight of it all.
A pressurized catapult or
catalog explaining the width
it takes to squeeze through
the trash chute without
crushing anything of importance.
Holding our breath
as the bumps become clear
afraid of the coaster
slipping off the tracks
and plummeting into
the frigid unknown.
Luck is only heresy
in this world of uncertainty.
But cars can be fixed,
jobs can be taken,
and bodies can be satisfied
in ways unheard of in reality.

Life is so hard sometimes.

But looking at it with new eyes,
with a combative, stubborn grip
on the cold steel handle,
a roller coaster can be both exhausting and exhilarating

if you know what to look for.

A bullet

so small and strong

struck right where

my lungs met.

Embedded itself

this insult of occult

fake tidings riding on

elitist ****** attitudes.

A bullet

or was it an insult?

Either way, I am plummeting

towards humiliation street

with my tail between my legs.

A bullet

was that woman's sharp words

cutting through my skin

like a paper cut gone berserk.



She was a joplin spider

stuck in a ditch

and I should have

smashed her spindly

weak legged body

under my heavy black boots

creating an ugly stain

that looks like gunpowder

or left over oil

spilled over

with the utmost disrespect.

Look at us
All on our phones
Waiting for our friends
To arrive
Look at us
Hooked up
White screen lights
Blinding us
Biding is time
Individually
Alone but together
Strangers in a pact
Waiting for our food
Our food just came
But our friend is not here yet
And our throats are parched
Waiting for water
That can only come
When two people are sitting down at one table when two people are sharing in each other’s company
Look at us
Looks at us

When the world shuts you out
whispering the silence among greater beings
the wind calls from various slumbers,
awaiting.
Growl, you growl,
as the world shrinks,
and expands.
Pushing the parameter,
the gargantuan man
a stranger in this land.
Reminiscing on past grandeur,
and lengthy, finite stones of words
as they fall, vicariously,
in the pitter patter of empty rain, and dry sunlight.
Short, are you
bringing forth new openings
as store fronts, covered with silk
and velvet dark red carpet
swirls into your body,
as it swims into the sea of thoughts and memories.

Wandering

not lost because only those
who choose to be lost
are the ones who feel most free.

Wondering

not found because those who
find themselves stranded on mountains

peaks that steep with cliffs
so brief they threaten to
collapse the body with snow.

But dirt tends to cling
to those who dare
themselves to fall
hitting pine trees
and mulberry bushes
hearing buzzing bees
and small white thrushes.

Dear, let me startle you by slinking my hand into
your smart, ethical decisions while I touch
quite gently
ripping to shreds
your photon ends.

Dear, let me caress your supple virtues and vows
until they blow out of proportion
merging your interests with mine
like the longing of eyes
uncanny in its distortion.

Dear, let me rip off your clothes as I grip your tight notions
ideas slipping carefully into place
like a sterile, unflinching blank slate
inching towards computed devotion.

Dear, let me carry out some foreplay
as long as you bend, not break,
delightfully stroking the edge of your plate.

Dear, let me come so close to your face
so close that it becomes blurry.

Where are my glasses in all this flurry?

Of feelings resembling photo reels on fire
shooting flames out the window
beyond everything you’ve ever known;
beyond anything you desire.

Dear, let me kiss you to submission,
your brain waves in motion
as I twist and slip into them
hormones ablaze
lighting up for days
your synapses recapturing
in a binocular haze.

Dear, let me flop on top of you
like a floppy disk, uploading your lips
into my hardrive.

Do I make you hard as fire?

Slowing burning
my hot fingers curling
up your robust spine
cracking it into
chiropractor sublime.

Massaging your tired broad shoulders
like large sofa ends.

Is this keyboard only
made for pretend?

Dear, let me mind *******
take you and light you
brighten your screen
uphold and unseen
neurons fighting as I whisper ***** words
directly into the folds of your tulip ears
too large to hear, and

Dear, let me engage my rage
into a productive haze
bolting out words, unheard of for days.

Dear, let us become undone together
like the battery of a computer
rebooting after a hectic hardware phase.

Dear, let us breathe and walk through this maze.

Ah! how the memory of

those pretty green eyes

enlighten my senses

making them parallel to

round ***** of safety.



Ah! how those eyes

regurgitate and bounce

pupils widening whenever

my eyes meet their gaze

wavering and moving from

person to person in an intimate crowded group setting.



Ah! how those eyes

which resemble soft moss

or the slick flesh of kiwis

stare at mine catching like how

flypaper catches mosquitoes

accidentally but intentionally

awkwardly but inventively

and ultimately intentionally.



Ah! how the memory of

those pretty green eyes

throw me off balance

when they lock into mine

and for a good ten seconds

merging a little too long

unnoticed by the crowd.


Ah! how those eyes

are like ghosts in my

memories so valid and

plausible they seem to

drift yet knowing they

will be seen tonight

creates a fidgety hope

splintered and shaking

within this hubris heart.



Ah! how those eyes

are framed by the

curliest of lashes

so cute they bloom

ripe smiles within this

here empty chest cavity

which seems to be defeated

at the moment but somehow

waiting to witness

orbs of stegosaurus skin

shelled and shellacked and unbuckled am i

at just a smack.



Ah! how those eyes

are like a slap

to my psyche.

Every part a swirling mass

of unabridged uncertainty.

And no matter how it seems

those irises of gold and green

will always be downright dainty.

Who are you
but a spark in my bone matter
a bright ball of
green energy bouncing around
the ocean blue of my heart
residing in some sort of residual
cave of dreams that I conjured up
many nights in a row
many long
barren months ago
under the influence of sleep
your tall shadow frame
blocking the view
and my hearth of alacrity
bounding out so true
for what it’s worth, new friend,
you really have me moved.

A little bit of hope
goes a long way.

Sometimes the process is painful.

Starts out as a dragon and turns into a jelly cake.

From hard scales to soft jello.

A little bit of hope
goes a long way.

Billie gets it.
What it means to be single.

Open, aware, and calm.
Totally okay
with being alone
and NOT in a romantic/****** relationship right now.

Being single means Freedom.

This year is coming to an end.
Still not normal,
still full of fear and anxiety yet
a little bit of hope
trickles into neon green hair and

dreams and fantasies become one
One. Two. Three.
I’m fine with being a dragon
with its wings clipped.

Or an Barn Owl whose caught in a cage. Stuck in her barn with lots of family and hay.

At least I can see; at least I can hear.
At least I can holler and swear!

I’m healthy, anxious, *****, stuck.
I’m waiting, wishing, wanting, ****.
I’m wilting, frigid, blooming, muck.
I’m growing, changing, holding luck.

A little bit of hope
goes a long way.

And Billie,
I’m counting on you…

I’m counting on you to get me through

the nights of elation and terror.

There is a sense of danger in the depths of night,
and the stars are vessels that illuminate
the path to a new way of life.
When the call of one person solemnly speaks
visions, upheld within the trapping of beasts.
There is only thought, only stark blindness here
where coldness drips down to a vessel of fear.
And the night, full of shimmers, blinks and is struck
by the stars that contract a virtual ****.

if I had to choose my last breath
i’d choose it with you
and only fantasies create
a sort of granule gargantuan glee
if i had to choose between
letting go of fear
and touching you
i’d choose you every time
if i had to rebuttal the claims
of my own body insecurities
i’d let go of them
for you
if i had to challenge myself
beyond a thousand measures
go past fear itself
i’d do it for you
and maybe it will take forever
but i’m willing to make the case
of loving you so gently
i’m at ease with the whole world around me
and i just keep thinking of
oranges hanging loosely in a plastic net
just dangling about to
plop down on the shiny wood
floor clean of dirt or
rest them lightly on the white
porcelain kitchen counter
without a care in the world
because that’s how you make me feel
unbound and synchronized like
the clunk of a VHS tape
fitting nicely into place
re-wound and ready
for the movie to start

and if i had a wide choice of manly lovers
i’d choose you every time

you’re not what i expected
for a woman in her prime

Oy! My poor heart!

It's expanding just as

the sun is setting

a golden glow awash

capturing light as

it brushes each object

reminding me of golden green

fields alight!

Oy! My poor heart

expands as the sun sets

becoming a whoopee cushion

in which to sit on after it's

blown way out of proportion.

It's like my heart can't contain you.

It's like I've let go of what was needed to let go of

to let you in.

And it's beyond my expectations
like slipping my feet into the beach

and finding my toes
underneath soft, warm sand
warmed by the sun.

And for so long I've denied myself
happiness.

And for so long I've forced this picture that what I want

is better than what I truly need.

And I'm trying to understand why I had to give up one failed romantic relationship

in order to find another that is a hundred times better.

I realized that I had fallen

in love with my own poetry

I'd fallen in love with myself again and again and again

never truly allowing myself to fall
in love with anyone in reality
because my fantasies were so much better.

And then I met you

the beach, the sand, the cold lip of water lapping against my ankles
the submersion of water, salt, seaweed, and foam

your warm hand in my own
fingers latching

the beautiful sunrise
softly, strongly touching
a horizon stretching so many miles away but in one swift look

I saw balance. I saw joy. I saw the colors I've always loved and hoped to see one day.

It's like my heart can't contain you.

And the ocean is calling me home.

That giant expanse of glistening water reflecting the sun's willful welcome as a new day begins

so daunting so beautiful so overwhelming in its stark grandness

so familiar this feeling.

It's like I've known you for a very long time.

It's like I've found myself smiling with the waves now pressing against my gut

white sea foam dissolving quickly
tickling my torso
making me laugh
loud belly laughs
mouth stretched wide and daring
teeth showing
eyes crinkling
body shaking
legs trembling

The ocean of your love

is calling me home.

Am I ready to dive deeper?
Am I ready to submerge not just my torso but my head as well?
What if I can't breathe underwater?
What if I can't open my eyelids?

It's like my heart can't contain you.

But then I touch my neck

and find gills.

But then I touch my eyes

and find goggles.

And then I know

that I'm ready to dive.

This is hard

like yanking teeth

or rising up

from a warm bed

at the beginning of winter.

This is hard

like stepping out of

quicksand or thick mud

like pulling a sled

up a steep mountain

in the midst of

a hazardous blizzard.

This is hard

to lie and lie again

but instead of

shrugging off those lies

like locusts or pestilence

or bugs or mal intent

a sanction needs to be clear

and fully carried out.

My actions need to reflect

past words as rough and as raw

as a sore throat

swallowing cold water.

To persevere is to not give up

even when my mind is trapped

in the heaviest of slumber.



I have to do what needs to be done

even though I'd rather

slit my wrists or cut off my thumb.

Quiet and gentle



this apparition

of caring about

the wind and how

it howls through

the air at top speeds.



Quiet and gentle



this space inside me

when music isn't playing

when silence calms the mind.



Quiet and gentle



this clean atmospheric

liberation front

canton of rhetoric feelings

theoretically seeming

just in its cause.u