We met in my dream last night,
I didn’t know it was you,
but now i am aware.

Your boyfriend did loads of ****,
I even took a rip once,
just to keep them from tearing me apart.

We travelled along together,
In an open air vehicle,
blowing chemical-glass smoke,
and not caring whatsoever.

You were so beautiful in that dream,
kind as well; just as your boyfriend,
seemed nice enough,
lots of ****, though.

Might have a whiskey,
Might have a water,
Might make amends,
Might make a slaughter.

I peeled a heart-shaped potato today;
Its skin was red and moist,
after i washed all the dirt,
and removed all the growth.

All of the clean potatoes
did not get chopped up,
for use on this day, but
the heart-shaped potato was shredded,
with a few other spuds,
and turned into something more useful;

Than a pile of shredded potatoes,
or a raw, *****,
chunk of ****** root,
with life extending from its borders.

How does the panda become so blue?
Electric like the wiry hairs at the base of my spine,
you know, my tail.

And that man, her father, just wouldn’t leave her alone.
What a great job he had done,
to usher such a wonderful child into the age of darkness.

The red-eye rush fully in effect,
buns in the oven,
hearts open, and dreams wide awake.

Your tail was moving with focus,
as your delicate hands shaped a pie,
of lovely proportions, which hit all the right spots.

When will you be off?
Just in time to miss mourning traffic,
on your way home (to my mind).

Those rings under your eyes are beautiful under these fluorescent lights,
and i can’t keep my eyes off your slender panda-tude,
wishing i would awake underneath your electric covers.

You and i aren’t so different,
but tonight, and the next
we won’t ever know that.

When not looking,
One might begin to see:
smoke & sparkles.

Just enough to distract,
enveloping the truth all the same.

Do not worry though,
It means: you are near,
to seeing things as they are.

Dashing sparkles,
no less than falling stars,
&& signals of smoke,
dense enough inside to get lost.

I enjoyed my cake, thanks.
Actually it came in the form of a rootbeer float,
&& i took it in by my self.

I noticed the chicka-dee-dee on the fence,
as I listened to a timepiece from another era.
It fiddled with the **** from a cigarette long since smoked,
and i wondered if it was hungry, or just trying to catch a buzz.

He set it down, i leaped to action,
Threw the **** away, && returned to my seat.
Thought the loud chirping was directed towards me,
but of course he was getting laid in the rafters over yonder.

The significance? Not,
but if only to break the silence
between lovers long since broken apart.
Fresh laughter, lightness, and.. and..
Long, long pause, and return to silence.

I. Loathing

i would’ve torn you
a few new
if you knew
what i’d seen,
with eyes sewn
when i was shown
too soon.

II. Contrivance

The substance i walked through,
in dream this morning,
was most magnificent in composure:
crunching under one’s foot
like snow, or like sand,
but not cold to the touch,
nor did it stick when wet,

&& although the white tiny particles
poured out of the mountain,
on the side of it we walked,
holding your little hand.

I knew down the stretch was a beautiful beach,
where this substance,
met a glistening body of water.

Your animal was loving, just as you,
&& although your name surprised me,
i was in love to hear it nonetheless.

Your father had not yet arrived,
&& in your absence,
i left a tiny piece of my heart,
in your notebook.

The sign on the bus said “Omaha”,
and it seemed so familiar,
but my memoryscreamed
somewhere like Mqt, Ca.,

&& although i didn't acquaint with the other troublemakers
on the back of the bus, as i waited, i watched.

You came up to me, and our embrace
was so warm, your tiny ribs against mine,
beautiful brown hair in my face.

How strange it was, in this sun bathed dream,
when you should tell me your name,
i should not understand it at first,
&& asking again, focusing within your fortunate eyes,
you told me exactly what i should need to hear.
&& ponder i did, although
not without first telling you how lovely it was.

III. Realization

It seems you and i
have both fallen short
of our prospective places
in Babylon.

For i have not grown
into the man
you once dreamt
i should be,

and you are no longer
the lovely girl
i once thought
i would marry.

You and i are free to be
what we are; without
persecution or judgement
from one another,

but we both must understand
the waves we created
when our dreams and realities
did not actually coincide,

&& perhaps the dreams
that i have had, and still am having
are just ripples
from a past that didn’t happen.

IV. Peroration

You're no longer the dreamer
i fell in love with,
&& i am no longer the dream
you thought you once loved,

but please may we
free our hearts and release
all the contempt
we hold one another in?

It’s not your fault
you were everything i wanted,
and it wasn’t enough
to quell my soul.

please know though,
we need not hold knots,
and let our cold spots,
and ill thoughts rot; within.

it’s not my fault
you dreamt me so;
with weight unfelt in this world,
but i am only a feather.

We are free to be
if we only freed ourselves to be,
We are no different
if only we freed ourselves to be.

Poison the well.

We do all that we can.
Not for the great return,
no,
but to know.

I'm good for a while I'm last.

To consist of feather and bone,
is but a great honor.

That which gives weight to existence,
and bares all its strength and weakness,
ever changing, and yet ever present,

And that which gives life
the opportunity of flight;
to take its structure,
and let it soar.
Gaining new perspective;
giving it as well.

These bones they will break,
and feathers will fall,
But fear not the death,
for it would not exist,
without the life preceding.

Give thought to that which you are made;
Be conscious of the fleeting thoughts and emotions
to which you give flight,
for there is no greater gift,
than the solidity of our matter,
and the flight of our being.

I am not a robot.
Underneath this skin
are tissues, and organs,
bones, and liquids,
none of which were constructed.

I feel real things,
and try to understand them too.
I have not masked intelligence,
emotion, and humanity;
dissected and interpreted
the world around me,
and plugged it in.

My brain is human;
it did not learn human,
but lives human.
It was not programmed,
and taught human.

I receive no signals
from remote remotes,
and super computers.
I do not speak code;
only human

I am irreplaceable,
repairable and invariable.
I will learn,
and what i do not
will destroy me;
like any other
human being.

If there aren’t any magnets,
left on the fridge,
You better not open,
another bag of chips.

For the magnets there,
all had clips,
perfect for holding shut,
plastic bag rips.

Not a rainbow in the place,
could light up that face,
the way her sun did.

Smell the lotus,
she is here.
Breathe her in:
slowly, fully.

Her light, traces, you will see,
You remember her smile,
and ahh.. those dimples;
she does not mind,
to keep you a muse.

Next time just let her know:
the lights dancing around her,
are for you to perceive.

She is here as always,
that tickling presence,
right at the tip of your nose.

Petals float gently to the ground;
all around,
and all is revealed,
bathed in morning light,
and just as easily
the retreat into tonight.

Only moments ago
when dogs weren’t barking,
and arctic chills hadn’t yet run up my spine;
before the brightness of today,
had yet to burn into my retinas,
and these eyes hadn’t seen the beginnings,
of a snow falling day.

I was in the jungle,
high in paradise,
kissing foreign girls,
with foreign tongues,
and speaking to old friends,
in languages i did not know,
about things i did not care for.

Riding frivolously down the ‘wrong’ path,
headed in the opposite direction,
only to be corrected,
by a friendly local, explaining,
“Love, love is in that direction;
the one you just came,
and from whence you will return.”

And the night fell, and tourists grew scared,
for the streets held all sorts of responsibilities,
and although i had been crying,
those lovely tears of joy, after being handed
the red rock of my fate, by a man seeming friend,
not long after dark,
he was forcing bags into unsuspecting customers’ hands.

after refusing, after breaking off from the rest,
as they attempted to coral me,
and the bag of loot in my hand
barricades had no effect, as my heart and soul,
this vibrating force of nature not to be reckoned with,
shed its timidity, its apprehensiveness,
and revealed that black leopard coat and delta growl,

and instead of opening up that beast,
to let it tear through those wanting the best of me,
i stretched myself out, in a warm bed,
and opened my eyes to see,
the dog curled up at my feet,
and a slit of sunlight from outside,
lights now off, day now on.

You’re a fool,
but aren’t we all.
At least you do,
what you think is right.

What is right?
I don’t think;
I don’t right,
and I don’t wrong.

Those stars in your eyes,
the ones you follow;
You put those there,
but at least you follow.

When the fog clears;
the ethereal thought,
thick and encompassing,
You might catch a glimpse.

On our level,
truly it isn’t clear,
nor should it be
on this level.

Clear is clear,
regardless, or not
if that’s happening;
here.

You’re a fool,
and so am I.
At least you think,
what you do is right.

Quite simple really:
the operation,
to remove the thoughts
from my head,
and the heart
from your heaving chest,

and for now on
it will be that much easier
to act as one,
now that you’ve got my mind,
on you, and your heart
is mine.

Those days
the sun is sparse,
and nights
the cold is long,
will dissolve;
as our separation.

No longer the cliffs, and crags
of deep, thoughtful tumult
shall haunt my fissures;
only illumined rays of creation,
likened to empty lungs’
love of inspiration to remain.

Nor shall the cushion of pins,
trickling the wealth of blood
from your soul to its body,
feel another *****, or pang;
as its sewn into my love, our life
eternally refilled; wholeness again.

And so our planes; similarly
as i’ve got the heart from you,
and you’ve got the mind of me,
allowing us to be; most peaceably,
the best of both sides of infinity,
you are i, and i am we

replacing the time, indefinitely,
too many thoughts of you,
and too much love for me,
removing the lines separating infinity.

It’s hardly your fault:
the disappointment i have felt,
at your expense,
in relation to my self.

I fear i have made it too easy,
to delight or dissatisfy,
based on the potential,
in all human beings.

Pure possibility,
and in a realm,
where anything is,
and can be.

Like three steps down,
our relationship
has been one down,
after another,

and to think,
with all the love we had,
above all else,
i looked down.

As simple as:
breaking the threshold,
crown upon my head,
you scramble off his ****,

and why oh why,
cannot you be the one,
i never even cared for,
as i walk away.

How easy it would’ve been,
to ruin it from the beginning,
grant her the delight,
and give you up then,

and so i travel,
along the border waters,
the bears are coming in,
quickly they are coming in.

Hunny, you are the honey,
atop my fulfilling parfait.
Oh how you exemplify all the wonderful parts,
of this warm, wet, middle-Earth day.

Just as the yogurt,
your skin so soft and smooth,
and like the banana underneath,
you know how i move.

Vibrant darkness within bursting pomegranate,
full of lovely sensual flavors,
amongst sticky, sweet rehydrated grapes,
just in from space, for my belly you grace.

And the chunks of crunchy granola,
spread out; mixed in,
you’ve got your hard to-do’s,
we are all nuts here in the end.

How you appeal to me, creamy whites,
luminescent undertones,
darkness full of ecstasy,
coconut shreds; delicate like bones

But truly what you have in common,
with this bowl of splendid sustenance,
You are always on my mind,
and like my parfait you are gone.

I live in a slim rainbow hue of reality ,
where this is actually the dream,
&& waking up means living today,
Meaningfully.

Aware in this very moment,
i could, at last,
meet my maker.

Just now,
as a man crouched ,
in the window behind the porch,
and i tried my hardest to avoid him,

our eyes met,
and i knew at that point.
He walked out the door,
and pointed his gun,

But before he could,
i grabbed his neck,
and i strangled that *******,
twisting his head all the way round.

His eyes that i had seen,
through the window on that porch
had light deep within them,
and i was to bring it out.

I used a shovel to remove his head,
the same shovel i used
to bury the pieces separately,
only moments ago,

And now i’m here,
with food and light,
no hatred nor guns;
only a thirst.

Looking at you,
through dream eyes.
A colorless light,
cast upon your figure.

an image reflecting,
upon itself,
has no start,
and has no finish.

The ether is dancing
around your pretty skull,
outwards from your heart,
and into the nothing
from whence it became.

Who would’ve thought,
death could taste so good,
sweet light green,
hints of mint,
those deep purple undertones.

And the vibrating of a soul,
shaking loose an exterior,
misunderstood and abused,
but no more.

Those who haven’t,
may just turn back,
but here we are,
on the verge.

Of what?
there is no "why?"
not "because"
all of it for this.

just look forward,
none of that matters now,
i’m not coming back,
i’m not coming back.

i may have some nasty habits
hell: i know it’s in me,
but there’s a moment in there,
maybe just one,
between the crumbling oats in my mouth,
and the silence that exists.

Despite the music playing from my computer,
remembering becomes easy,
and that tiny piece of easy,
despite the whole bunch of difficult.

that moment of stillness,
reminding me of the last,
with all the difficult in between,
that tiny space is heaven,
and i may be far from it,
but i’ll be back;
my habits and I.

The only real problem,
with sanity is:
everybody is trying,
to be in it.

if there were room,
for all the heads,
that want to be in sanity,
nobody would actually,
want to be in it.

The scarcity of the sane,
is quite astounding,
for not many,
have actually gotten in,

and nobody got in sane,
by trying to be there.
truthfully everybody is,
already in sane;
they first must realize it.

The only real problem,
with sanity is,
how I have tried,
to get away.

It’s days like these,
that make the owls,
forget they are nocturnal.

The sun is shining,
illumined fog above;
leave your sleep,
enjoy this love.

Sit up slowly,
open your eyes,
morning dew upon us,
dreams realized.

Wake up slowly,
after many tries,
dark as the evening,
the sun is not yet high.

Forgetting inhibition,
apprehensions all at bay,
an easy time as this one,
still tired from yesterday.

i feel the love,
you left for me,
when we went our different ways.

The night is dark,
and time is long,
but this owl is seeing beautiful days.

Discovered in my valley
Deep in the sauna heat

"Where to?"
The North, of course

Ta-Kwa-Men-om

Those eyes though,
They can be many things,
Flashing passion,
from one to the next

The pleasure,
Love,
all mine.

We could not accurately identify
The two children in the photograph,
So we did the space-time hop,
and found ourselves to be;
Underneath that large, gnarled tree.

The picture had inaccurately described
The details we now found this place to embody:
Once a marsh,
Now entirely wetlands,

and Tree...
Was an island,
of its own.

Strewn of bark, reeds, and root from below,
was Woman nestled up to Tree.

She was not separate, but consisting entirely of,
&& bound,
To Tree.

And as we gazed, you and i.

Her weathered face, && sunken eyes,
did my spine begin to tingle,
and her eyes; a twinkle.
As she twisted her head,
fixed her gaze upon my own,

And we stared...
Deeply into each other’s wonder.
That was only moments ago.

Arise,
Wretched restraint with serpentine whorl,
Blackened abscess && swirling obsession,
Abstain from sense!

Behold:
Lucid lovers, && sentient glow.
Serenity manifest,
Mirroring images of a vivid mirage.

Hearts;
Well-suited shackles for sordid undulation.
Tiny bubbles all in a bunch.
Intricately tied shoe-strings,
In search of cessation.

Expire.*
Faint fragments of distant spines shattered.
Sedated sensations,
A dark place, pristine lake,
Awakened.

This morning:
Neighbors loudly left,
Children ramped up,
&& mother short tempered.

My spirit followed them out,
where you were delivering mail,
despite Sunday ritual.

You took me with you to the reservation,
where life slowly goes,
&& days are bright.

The land was empty,
few houses stood,
each full of family,
doing family things,
on a Sunday.

I asked to come in,
&& wished to do my best,
heal the wounds,
of a culture torn apart in the past.

It wasn’t long before my hands,
found the body of a beautiful native,
&& i did my best to treat her right,
to make her feel better.

her family understood,
in heated healing, our bodies covered in sweat,
&& when i left i brushed her cheek,
a golden drop, to fall like a tear.

Then:
i embodied those that i came to help;
Warrior spirit of the west,
once again covered in blood.

You see:
this morning i awoke,
&& fell a little further into it.
All the agony of a peoples spirit,
in one d r a w n-o u t dream,

Both the bottoms of my feet
They had pierced
in the exact place i felt on hers;
the pain of an entire nation,
blood was drawn,
all over Earth’s floor.

i continued to walk,
despite debilitating injuries.

They came looking,
as if to return me to my cage,
but coyote does what it pleases,
&& this time around hell was to be raised.

I penetrated their deepest,
the “conservancy” as they called it,
&& it was almost as if i was welcomed.
(lucidly mistook for a part of the attraction)

Consequently the foreign men,
working the grounds,
opened the gates for me to limp through,
as tears rolled down my face,
&& blood spilled from my bare feet.

It wasn’t long after the guards came looking,
and found the trail of blood,
right back to their viewpoint,
as if they could really see what they had done.

The chase:
found the line they wished least to travel,
and forced my broken body down it,
knowing they would eventually follow.

When i was discovered,
covered in ****,
one man, then two, then five,
all took turns beating my body,

How it hurt, but it’s that i felt!
as i continued to snarl, kick, and break free.
There was no restraining my soul,
even as my corpse was beat ******.

With such a realization it all halted...
subdued sure,
but this spirit was not won,
they were wounded,
&& i, blessed enough to die,

Looking Back:
as if through a playlist,
song on queue: Ceremony.
In remembrance always of this ****** Sunday,

&& forever would coyote make a difference,
&& never would the Warrior of the west,
embody anything but a blood red, setting sun,
&& that is why today,
i did not wake.

We ended up beside one another in line,
myself,
&& the sweetheart with the dream eyes.

The girl whose gaze reached,
where dreams dwell.
From one heart-string to another,
whose heart beat lightly,
the pulse of my own,
mirrored by a distant light,
reflecting in our languished eyes.
Alive.

Our intimate, imitant crystal gaze,
resounded all of the opulences.

Golden light pouring through pristine pools,
Pure laughter && aqueous, bubbling love.

A single dream,
just one lumen,
fixed about a sole stroke of mortal contour--
A love.

Tracing delicate differences,
illuminating a limitless furrow.

"So where are ya from?"
not her name,
nor her time.

Her answer:
the tears streaming down my face.

"From where the animals run the furthest."

my heart stumbled outwards,
my hand, apprehensive,
yet absolute,
reached her right,

Lovingly,
inclusively,
she then grasped it,
with both her heart-strings.

"Tell them on your way back,"
Smiling,
knowing deep within her contention,
**"I can't live without it."

"Why?"
he asked,
"Why are they called the red stalks?"
For the corn were all golden..

They never did give that kid a straight answer..
Naturally, he went lookin'

As he pushed further && further in,
did they rise up to greet,
all the golden stalks,
towering.
And he began to lose track,
time, && his surroundings,
all stripped him of his belongings.

First his shoes, && scarf
jacket.. pant..

slowly..
until..

nothing was left.
(silence, but only for a moment)
Until a cold breeze did blow,
down all the golden stalks,
and leaving
only one red.

They all said, “No!”
But i screamed on,
and my boomerang took flight,
to put an end to artificial light.

We were escaping harsh reality,
You and i were to be free.
When that boomerang got chucked,
we’d see the real revolutionary.

It would’ve been run down by their trucks,
but instead you brought it to me,
and we ran hand in hand,
down the back alley.

We were headed to the north,
just You and I.
Leaving the snow covered wasteland,
the only ones left truly alive.

I’ve got your memory,
sitting right here,
on my tongue.

Should i just take a bite;
Break open
your ‘hard’ exterior?

and on the inside,
so fresh, so sweet, and tangy.

This **** is so artificial,
i take you in;
i wont let you out.

i reach the bitter,
i wish this were better,
i’ll spit you out.

You don’t mean a thing,
you don’t mean anything,
you don’t mean a thing,
you don’t mean anything; to me.

And just like that humans’ grandchildren had no longer any nature to fear. The realization caught like wildfire, “If I own a piece I can preserve it forever…” and so the skins, tusks, and ***** content of Terre’s wildlife were mined, processed, and stored away on the dusty shelves of a million or so peoples’ soon to be rotten bookshelves. Systematically, part and parcel of the threads of the wild world were sectioned, cut, and numbered so that the remaining lives, if you could call them that, would all have a souvenir of a living planet.

     The hunt began a feeding frenzy; taking more human lives than what was even left of any African bush elephant, or Indus river dolphin. The hunger that consumed humanity was not for lives, no, but for the shreds of physical evidence that something once had lived, and it was at no expended cost that every last giraffe, tree frog, and jack-rabbit was displayed on artificial walls under fluorescent lights.

     “The man who sold me this piece said a whole village worth of people fought over the carcass.” When questioned,
     “which village?” he replied,
    “I didn’t get to ask. He was called over to aisle 9.”

     Those who could afford it were buried with their different duckbills, and lizard toes, snakeskins, and fish fins. Covered like a mummified Frankenstein in the garb of a living world. Stored in a plastic container and neatly tucked into a concrete wall surrounded by weathered stones and a manicured lawn. Their family would tell stories about how greatly they loved life in all forms, how hard they worked, how many they killed in order to procure such wonderful treasures. Their story was forgotten; like a thirsty root in the desert.

Carmel colored Cancer,
seeping through my veins,
numb to pleasure,
on a physical plane.

Friendly fire free-for-all,
bittersweet sensation,
hear no, see no, speak no more,
consume without cessation.

Painting playful pictures,
impressed by my own mind,
feeling all, but everything,
and bury what i find.

hope no, care no, want no more,
breathe in what is inside,
without movement atop the water,
shifting only with the tide.

You watch that rainbow,
wait for it to touch down,
hurrying to meet it on the ground,
it’s just like any other rainbow.

Surely it touches somewhere,
it penetrates deeply,
and leaves all stricken aw,

That rainbow,
all those colors, and emotions,
they touched you,
right in the ether.

I haven’t touched this thing in days,
why must i still hold on to it?
are these all just figures?
figuratively portraits take on,
a shape of their own.

An ebb and a flow exists,
only if you believe it to.
pushing forward, thruward, onward,
or taking,
one word,
at a time;
in time,
on time,
over time,
through time,
on an infinite scale,
over ever increasing proportions.

it all relaxes,
and that which we tried;
tried so hard to understand,
takes shape just in front of us,
as if if we hadn’t tried at all,
in the first place been conscious ,
that it all would’ve fallen into place,
and effortlessly, inclusively,
that which was once indescribable,
takes shape just in front of us,
in the form of what we said,
and how it looks.

I would not have dreamt of you,
If not for sleeping on your couch.
Surely that is the only reason,
You were on my mind at all.

As i try to rescue myself,
my thoughts, and my actions,
Somehow you came crashing;
crashing in.

Your involvement was minimal,
in my dream last night,
and in the memories of my past,
You served your purpose,

And since?
You’ve come to remind me,
All the things I have worked so hard,
to give up

As the markings on your arm,
Appear to me as light,
In the darkness of my eyes,
Tracing the path of the caravan.

“What do you fear?”
She asked,
Of me, and now.

To whom am I speaking?
For the rest of the time,
In my head, in my mind,
It is you, who
I am speaking to.

Right before i took the time to notice,
two full radiant moons,
floating over the horizon,
not terribly far from one another,

and the light that played off of them,
incredibly flashing from one to the other,
and that strike of borealis,
no different from a midnight rainbow,

with the technology coming through it,
only to touch down next to us,
in fear that it would harm me,
but truly only trying to locate your sister.

I was in a room with an instructor,
a few other students as well,
discussing triumph and failure,
and losing it all into the ethers.

Not so different from the room i ended up in,
the dorm of that that ****** institution,
pumping up people with chemicals,
and changing them for eternity.

Before we started the bickering,
arguing my lack of ability to quell you,
and how my parents left me inept,
while i knew we both ended up here for a reason,

and  before those sickening walls,
I had seen the wound you came to me with,
from you heart right to your ovaries,
cut deep, but not all the way through.

Yes, and when you asked me to help i submitted,
and did my best to oblige, even knowing,
there was nothing for you i could do,
but continue to love you as i had.

And so escape was plotted, from the walls made of petroleum,
and slowly they removed any and all things,
that would remind us of ourselves,
those people that had once existed outside,

and further we drifted from the two glowing moons,
only to get stuck in that room with forced loons,
and the skies grew darker by the day,
and the lights never turned off at night.

Yes;
Just drop,
the needle in the whiskey.

iDigress.

who the cap fit?
i d k

sip sip from the cup,
from the cup.

Oh. ****.

Just where are theose shoes, now?
the mismatched ones,
with-the-out the any laces?

please, please.
if this is desperate,

O hunny,

Oh.

bother.

Butterflies in the storm,
Only one loon on this lake..

Hoppers in the field;
You get stung going up
the hill; not down it.

I believe this is the hole,
for which i am looking.

This leads to the trail,
if you do permit,

me; go home.

I prepared a beautiful meal today,
both tasty and nutritious,
with all the proper ingredients,
spices, and with love.

It took quite a while,
to figure out just what to put in,
but with proper timing,
it all came out perfectly.

And i devoured that food;
that nourishing food,
and loved every universal bite;
down to the last atom.

It was a whole process:
the careful nibbling,
and scraping of the plate;
a food covered canvas.

Now i’m lying in my bed,
both warm and comforting,
with all the necessary pillows,
naked, and alone.

It has been quite some time,
since last licking my fingers clean,
but as with all things,
it is all turning into ****.

&& to think:
All of these,

heart-particles..    &&     ..fragmented
                                                                 little
                                                                         rainbows..

In the wake of...   you...

Your angelic endowments,
joyous *****,
&& delectable secretions

Wise we once were,
harmoniously ravaging.

My temple is empty
&& All that i can see; i steal.

I am tortured by the form you have taken,
by your representation and illumination.
it is nothing other than pure ecstasy,
dipped in radiance,
and toasted to a golden crisp.

I am always left with wanting more.
More means without any ends;
the sun shining brightly,
and you forever smiling upon me.

You are decadent.
swirling around in the desires,
that exist for you, without you,
and in that casting you lay in wait,
spring loaded and ready to accept,
that which is asked of you.

You are forever more,
encompassing my passion,
and passionately encompassing,
all the threads of my being.

We are not so different,
You and I,
A means without an end,
and an end without any means

Another night,
right?

Curtain drops.
We dip,
to get lit.

round the corner,
to the friend spot,
cold stares,
from neighbor thugs.

Miss Minnesota,
don't ya know?
catches up,
when i've already gone.

You're a *****?
No You're not.
Waving her rancid hand,
testament to that fact.

Need a ride home?
nah, i wouldn't neither,
not this early.
__

Man lying face down,
in the middle of the street,
frantic to find,
the lost looms of his soul-sheet.

To the corner,
no,
down the way.
Crowbar in hand,
Clink. Clink. Clink.

Beat the bouncer,
deranged,
our eyes meet,
she escapes to the back room.

Up to the balcony,
9-piece in hand,
"have i got what it takes!?"
"To finish the job??"

He had what it takes,
as his thump blocked the light,
coming beneath the door.

&& my head still hurts,
so near to his explosive absolution.

Funny how the living laugh right in the faces of the dead.

It hurt to leave you last night.
Alone in your bed;
Asleep in my hands.

How lovely to see the comfort,
crawl up next to you,
and lull you to sleep.

A peaceful, restful sleep;
with your little silken thing,
and **** hanging out.

The kind of sleep that i don’t get;
with sweet dancing thoughts,
and wonderful activities played out
like a lovely little matinee,

and all the while you playing in your head,
and all the while you lying in that bed.

You reached for me as i left;
not consciously i do believe,
but some part of you wanted me to stay.

That was that part of me that hurt,
as i walked out your door.

A strange day,
to be a life.
Snow keeps fallin’,
Sun still on the rise.

A dream blanket,
coating existence,
the beauty in the air,
is nearly palpable.

Everything struggles on,
every piece,
of this thing,
struggles on.

Above this grey,
the big grey,
the sun is shinning,
a beautiful day.

Under the sill,
of a metaphoric window,
i place my pillow,
my head will lay.

Could ask for no more,
could ask for no less,
how great to be alive,
and yet to experience death.

I’m nearly afraid to face,
that the state as of late,
i’ve been in;
MI or Wyoming,
is truly just a dream,
and i might have to wake up,
to this lonely bed again.

You’re heavier than a morning mist;
the sun is above; but only
its light, and none of its love.

i am still surrounded however,
by a feeling i’d love to keep forever,
as i see you in every direction i look,
and i know it is you; i will not be mistook.

We tread our own waters,
in each of our ways,
for now maybe shallows,
but by the end of the day,

We nestle up deep,
inside one another,
return to the surface,
only for air and for laughter.

You are the great unknown,
and i am the great explorer,
right now it’s very simple
right now we’re on the border.

Nothing separating,
not anything between us,
explorer also explored,
unknown and everything.