Sometimes she smells like roses and coconuts...

Everyday I bow to the eons and ions and atoms
within and surrounding her
for guiding me to the reality of which I enjoy being inside.

My life wasn't meant to be boxed into a 9-5 soul-******* vacuum office cube
trying to convince folks to buy bread with "homemade flavor" or fizzy brown corn syrup. That's how alcoholics are born.  

My living spirit is is supposed to play
like my inner child
at 2am smoking something
and waving to stars that might be spaceships
and singing songs to the silver moon.
I have to live like poetry in order to write.
Maybe not drink like poetry...
let's just say my time in Atlanta
might put Dylan & Edgar to shame.  

And she allows us to love like poetry,
our minds travel to soothing lands
where words mean nothing
and the only way to communicate is through sacred azure moans
of hyper-iridescent effervescent ecstasy.
That's what the truth sounds like.

I'm unchained,
back into the wild of myself,
unfettered from the confines
of a story or musical piece,
instead allowing my self and body
let the words and music play & write through me
like some fleshy electric with a hint of indigo flute fountain pen
so that others may know this glorious living that is poetry.

Physical pain is the worst kind of pain
it plagues the body and drives the mind insane.
It's hell when laying down for sleep
and much worse when the sun rises because you keep feeling weak.
Poor quality of life and muscles feel debilitated.
Never a moment of good health and memory completely faded.
Can't think clearly with a thick fog clouding your head,
sometimes you think you'd rather be dead.
Alone in your struggle you try to keep on
because nobody understands it for very long.
Short tempered and short of breath, but you still try your best.
Head up, hopes down from the pain that never ceases to drown.
As if the earth is literally on your shoulders
And betrayer has gouged daggers deep in your skin.
You'd think it was a sin
but you see this isn't emotional it is very real and physical.

Many people think they feel this way and many people actually do.
The point is to love one another and try to understand each other's struggles
not compare.

There are times when I glance your way and
The outline of your face is luminescent
Entranced by your eyes
I'm drowning
Deeply
Consuming me whole
That like tidal waves
Pull me into the depths of the universe
As my consciousness descends into the void
Diplomatic
Yet subtle
Minds eye gently brings me back to earth
Where I come to realize that
At that moment we were one