Sleep brings no rest:
When one dreams only
In lucidity,
It turns reality
Into unimaginable chaos.

When I was young
I would close my eyes and hum.
Hum away the pain.
Where were you when it rained?
I lie coiled up on the ground
wishing to be a pretty leaf on a tree.
Only to grow old and fall down.

Your sweet breath tickles my spine,
Calling out for the goosebumps.
But there’s a beautiful contrast
When your warm hands comfort them.
And even when we’re laying together,
And we’re still too far apart,
I can align my ears with your chest
To pick up the lovely rhythm of your heartbeat.
And since you always know what to do,
Next you’ll move my hair just enough
To plant a sweet, sweet kiss
Right on my forehead.
*I’m home.

There's a world that sits
in the tip
of
your cigarette.


There's a city in
that spark.

A stupid boy who
reminds of the eighties;
He has gone away.

Not stupid at all.
But with him I felt something.
And we weren't on drugs.

He is beautiful,
I felt his voice when he spoke
And we didn't have ***.

I said, "I like you"
then he said, "I like you, too".
But it wasn't the same.

I made him breakfast
My heart was swollen tightly
Then he went away.

My bones buzz
Electric ecstasy
Split into atoms
Nanotechnology
Plastic anatomy

Ego death is visibility
Vulnerable to all thoughts
Universe displays
Vision overlay
Don't touch the body
That once contained me.

Speakers breaking
House shaking
I no longer feel the need to speak
This vibration is all I need
Music is the air I breathe
I lie in silence
Enlightened

Form roads on my cheeks
Carve into my jaw
Slowly my lungs leak
I hope to see you thaw
I'm over me
I'm over sleep.

I'm learning to free my eyes
To close my mind
From crowded sights
Florescent lights
I'm consumed by night.

it was not ******, but slow
and built on itself over time
a little more sorrow each day
a little more pain to suffocate on
not too much, not so to be obvious

but it seems the soul is more of an abstract thing
that can be revived over time with the right words
and happenings
zombie-like but with much less gore
there are the first traces of joy instead.

I stand above my bed
And examine the damage.
Blankets this way and that
Pillows all over
Sheets tangled up around themselves.
Proof of something that
Only hours ago
Left this place empty.
I take in the rubble
And breathe deeply.
I lower myself down to those
Tangled sheets
And backwards bedspreads
And fill my lungs with you.
I pull them up around me
And close my eyes
And wish for this place to be
The same kind of battleground
Again tomorrow.