never look back,that easy to say ,
harder to do when you're stuck in your ways,
replace lots wife with a Pillar of Sand...,(man-echo)
that's me to a T,never mind the plans,

but...-that was yesterday,clipped that string,
metaphorically,physically taking wing,
movin up-outta my shell,
like a Pupae burstin,time to raise hell,

The original Butterfly Effect in motion,
Sandman's Dreams cross time and oceans,
flap my wings-watch the firestorm,
EC take another land by storm,

Huh!-that's my role,the batterin ram,
mad March hare with the guile of the Sandman,  
Kilojules outstrip a railgun,
first blast to the past,never goin back to Square one.

I stay up for the moons
Quiet gaze
The light by the bedside
Carves shadows of you
Into my bare frame
The air itself is naked
Vulnerable of all scent.
I kissed you thrice,
One on the lips
For devotion,
One on the ribs of
Your teeth,
On the elbow of your
Favourite book.
As all writers do.
I created that arched frame
That pulled your
Tendons tight
To my inked sheets,
Shot you into blind space,
While I teethed on
The bow of your
Fingertips
Our skin tarmac,
There was roadworks
Of our bed.
Toes dancing morbidly
Between bursting stars
While night gulls
And ravens watched
Through the window
Waiting to peck
At the mangled carcass
Of our hearts.

I found it.
I found the secret.
The secret that i once held so tightly while running bare foot through the forest.
Along the way i must have stashed it between the trees and bushes while darting towards my made up castle.

It took 20 years to catch my breath.
Slowing coming to a stop, I lifted my head to see where I had ended up.
Only to find a kingdom, but not the one I had made.

No part of my mind could have ever created a beauty such as this.
But this was the secret.
The forgotten, familiar secret that left my hands empty.

Still short of breath, feet still aching, naked among the vines.
Without another thought, here is my entirety.

Clothe me in the leaves and branches that stand so tall above me.
The leaves and branches that fill my lungs with oxygen.
Just as the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stand up with the gifted chill, let the moss sprout from those very pores.
May my crown rise to the galaxies, just as the redwoods relentlessly reach for the clouds.
Pushing cold stones into my own 4th gift, mesmerized by the unknown reality.
My roots digging, growing, stretching, twisting to the bottoms of the soil.
These feet have caved to crave the texture of the deepest grounds.
Standing among the water of the tallest of falls.
Just like coming home.

There was no secret, the secret was home.

The home of a vagabond, once worn like badge of honor.
I want the wanderlust to ends, overwhelmed by the nurture.
The nurture of the forgotten mother.
A forgotten home.
This is home.
This is where it's always been.

Just as the fern never stopped growing beneath my skin, I return the gift with my complete being.

Swiftly married to the endless forest of pines.

I am the floor of the deepest ocean.
I am the cap of the highest mountains.
I am the rain that kisses your face.

I am the grass that grows beneath your bare feet while running through the forest.

I am clothed.
I am grounded.
I am whole.

This is where it has always been.
Stashed between the trees and bushes.

A forgotten home.
A secret kingdom.

This vagabond soul found that home hidden within the frame of my very own twig shaped bones.

I did a bad thing.
At least the doctors say
it's a bad thing.
I just took a little bit.
A little
bit.

What's the harm?
Maybe the judgement of my peers?
Physiological disruption?

In a world full of heady pressure
I wanted some release.
To feel at ease- to feel ******.

So I'm back at day one.

Oh well:
Nothing like a fresh start.

My God is the best God     my umbrella keeps rain
from touching my forehead, a stone they roll away

I take a drawing for a basket of airplanes, rainbows
over movie posters      a city that fell into the ocean

Pushing the envelope against the rain, I fake a letter
of trigonometry     declaring myself to be a dead body

A tattoo of a drum beating under a cloud      **** me
up with a conundrum, using double negative numbers

Probably a fake whirlpool, the natural condition of
radioactive material, a sound dripping out from a hole

I run open the door with a flag, they stole the border
back from the goverment, pretending to be Indians

I wish I was a moth, to find more comfort in lightbulbs.

I find joy in our silence (because there is no tale to tell)
A story implies a beginning, a middle, an end
So forgive me if I am guarded,
I am afraid to start something (that I want to last forever)
Whisper me love
Sing me the words you cant speak
Lay with me, look to the stars (hold me until forever comes )
Feel this silence (don't try to fill it)
I hope it tickles your skin, reminding you softly of how I need you to stay

If i could do anything
to stop
this suffering
i probably wouldn’t
for i’m so used to it
that i can’t even
picture myself
out of it &
it hurts even more
to admit that
i probably don’t want to