Writing to grow flowers out of my dead thoughts
usually late late dark late at night
the gem hours: red with the tunnel vision of 2am
to fear in avoiding paranoia winter dreaming
and waking up to the world streaming light into the window,
but it’s colder then it looks out there-
deceptive weather keeping things interesting

Weather and this life are strange
like how it would snow in the more southern neighborhoods
by Kristin’s house on Jackson St.
(near where the old german man sold chocolate)
and stay dry by my house

Stay dry by Anthony’s pizza where I went to dinner
when my grades were good
and after the Christmas pageant
when I walked off the wrong side of the stage-
it’s always been a horror- to give my body and attention
to a room full of people with high expectations

I guess that’s why it’s necessary
to continue to try to prove fathers wrong
who stick themselves into bad situations and recording studios
and stay away forever

Now: dead grass the only nature around
and Strattera to numb the high decibel level of the mess-
a loud scream, a reminder of tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow
red tomorrow of having to follow through

I write to find a way out of the quick sand- a reason to get out of bed.

I want our words to make love
Let us wine and dine in pen
Ill kiss you from the page
We'll create no biblical sins

So poetic
that my physical is pathetic
I mean I fumble words around you
But when I create, I'm no fool

Subdue you
underneath you
I'll ***** you
Make your feet move

Give you shakespear cues
Show you which way to play
As I write out scenes of love
That last for hours into days

I'm no genius Just a lover
That gets off to syllables
I passion write in purple
Cause the red is full of bulls

Let our I's Collide
As we make human i Ts
Saving Graces for our diner
for in each other we both feed

I'm sure to say I do
If you read a little deeper
But don't read too fast
‘cause I'm know to be a sleeper

Silence is my killer
Verbal language is my gun
As I have no set targets
go on killing sprees for fun

Im a ******
Leaving men lifeless in bedrooms
Bathrooms, car seats, tee pees and Breakrooms
Let us have a pow wow

For I'll empty life into you
Birth a new princess
All in the way she touched you
While leaving no finger prints

Let Our words
make Love
Feel Death
and Receive Life

For I Created this to tell you
I want your soul tonight
but every time you'll read this
You'll know that love is Write



anon & m.g.

It's the quiet one's you hear.
The subconscious.
The shadows.
The darkness.
It speaks to me louder than the Sun ever did.
I live in those shadows for in those shadows I do not see, I do not judge, I can only feel.
One cannot hate what they cannot see.
Eyes rolling back, gazing into the oblivion,
Your moon dust frolics along the walls of my head.

The sun rose sideways over
Trees so full of birds I'd thought they'd
Taken the place of any
Real branches. The song came quiet, 
Making conquest of our opened ears,
And ******, if it all wasn't gorgeous.

The Jazz in it hummed loudly,
Asking whence the shakes began.
She screamed in an ear to
Inquire about the fun she's having. 
Stuck staring in a rear view,
With hope they're unaware of
Locked doors. 

Green-garnished, gold-rimmed eyes, and a
Brandished black mask, blocking the brightness,
But also the bad intentions. 
Let 'em know where you come from,
And they'll use it against you. 
Let them see where you're going: then, 
They run for the hills. 

"What's a vice worth, if you
Don't nourish it?"                
                                                               ­               What's a number, but an
                                                              ­                Excuse, or a limit?
"See, there's a countable
Amount of stuff, in this universe, but we're
Still unsure of what we're
Doing in life."

Gasping at the light's 
Bounce off foreign plants. 
Recollections of strengthened bonds,
Pressing heavy, into wet dirt
Of a previous day's rain. Fearing 
Faith in what you can't understand. 
Working for the worst people in the world. 
But because, you must 
Help, to exist. 

But break the bubble, 
Roll back those shoulders, tuck those wings
                                                           ­                   Maybe get the **** out of the car?
"I'm getting there, ******."