Who knew our spirits would be so easily broke? Who knew our past loves would come crawling up our legs to meet us for dinner? who knew the joys of rhythm and melody would stand and stare us down for hours and never lead with the first move. Who knew the catacombs of my fearing mind would desecrate the innards of my only wantings. Who knows why the big ones reel in after dusk. Why did things turn out in the season of so much anger? How can one overcome any proportion of ill intention to an honest living. Where are the street-grit-fighting-fearless godsends of our time. Where are the nights of comfort among the towering plagiarisms of sonic inequities. Why am I stone in my own mirror? And how often shall I have to shave off the transgressive anachronisms of the jesting majority-unjust. Will I ever see a cannon with a name other than "jesus the king" around the barracks of quen anne burrows? I am cold and engrossed with my feelings. I am the youth's catch-all phrase for re-new-all and desperate tendencies. I am the unconscious objection to that censure of my own old crowning. The way i was held like an infant again. I mustered and mangled and derived that only in my free gliding could i roll down the soft hills of my fervent dreams. I can smell and sense the rays of jubilation i reach when drifting in tangent with the innocuous verbiage of my unbridled soul. Bringing the bleak toned honesty I once and always devote my sincerity towards. and alas my mind begins burrowed in the melting tin of bleeding doves. Not to be confused with other obscurities We Speak Wandering. Pleasant by night,

"They only burn themselves to reach Paradise"
                                       - Mne. Nhu

original courage is good,
motivation be ******,
and if you say they are trained
to feel no pain,
are they
guarenteed this?
is it still not possible
to die for somebody else?

you sophisticates
who lay back and
make statements of explanation,
I have seen the red rose burning
and this means more.

Love came along in my life. Hell...Christ...Cigarettes! I couldn't forgive my passion, the way it made me feel as I looked to jesus drying up in the sun. The metaphors deserve all the glory don't they? Thinking of big nights and warm lips, and all while just wanting to ****. Golden eyes resting on the gold of god, who was really just burning to see me a cowboy pacing west like a turtle. Still standing on tight-line-friends yearning from a choir of grace and speachless as nothing happens save the rise of an old moon, rest it's soul. Yet I simply cared to think of days without the open smoke which was lighter than my fingers as I touched you hard within stammers of each breathe. Years gone by and still sure he'd lost; swearing on everlasting angels.

Twenty strolls by the canal
out without followers
,pleasant by night
walk slow and  around
fast thoughts
changing fireflies with the mouth
while angst wallows out with the wind
by the shore sifting every other passer this way
who never wanted life beyond a couple years
,except
we all just have dreams
and mine
are all eyes to Moloch now
for he streams dark giants
and quiet interplay with water-lights
and I am brought to tears
If I could...for every ****-off,
misfit, and geek
chasing trains past bedtime
and seeing green in society’s streets
just tapping steps in the dirt
who cared none
about father’s scrutiny,
who worried less
confronted in the night
with all ceaseless
horror and inviting fear

At first it was bare and ripe for the picking -
my chest was pulsating under your weight you
stripped my heart like an exotic dancer would:
all eyes and no hands.

After the initial grasp, the puff puff pass and the
smiles exchanged between our legsarmslimbs and the
time it took to be rid of the excess skin crowding us in,
we breathed in sweet, sweet fumes of spring and said
things kept in our mouths, light like ecstasy but
heavier than the average promise.

But the hours it took to argue the hunger away made our
heads ache and eventually our jaws could clench no longer,
our eyes could see no more of each other - just smoke and
******* clouding our way - it was lost,
whatever it was, it

was lost.