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I want to hang art in the vaulted ceilings of your chest

Appreciate the space like
footstep
echo
silence

Hang paintings of ugly beauty from the knives still stuck in your back

That was what all this pain has been meant for
To hang art from

Newspaper clippings of suicides still walking into heaven
Their faces finally happy
Maybe one is waiting for you

Jackson ******* rugburn that taught you forgiveness

Hyper realistic pencil drawings of people you wish you could forget

Featherless doves in cages with the latches open,
offering their freedom to you a feather at a time

Sickly psalms coating the walls like wet silk
Like paper papermachet prayer
Like a piniata

Take a baseball bat to it
Lose your breath like a hallelujah

There is so much beauty inside of you
Every ugly moment
molded

I want to hang art in the vaulted ceiling of your chest

Get lost in the museum behind your *******....
For the sake of discretion, when I retell this story, I am a fish, gill-hooked, near gutted, and thrown back. You are a goose with swan beauty, but not swan grace. There is a girl throwing bread onto the water above my head. Competing for the same crumbs, through what could be a mirror, our mouths met. You took the bread, but I kissed you.
Ten
nearly flawless lines,
made for
both bending
and
breaking
Reaching Inside
to Center Mind
and further still
past Grey Matter
past axon and dendrite
through the synapse
Once more unto the breach
and further still
into cell
into nucleus
into gene
into acid amino
and further still
into particle carbon
past electron
past proton
into neutron
and further still
to Reach
The Void
and reside within
and wait, still
Being within Nothing
as the World Serpent
tail-in-mouth
consumes itself

Wait
and Hold
Still


Wait

and

Hold

Still


Now gently Returning
Up and Out
tugging softly at The Void
with wish whisper touch
softer than Light
pulling
bringing Nothing
Up and Out
into Everything
into Center Mind
Up and Out
leaving neutron
past proton and electron
leaving carbon
Up and Out
pulling No-thing
Up and Out
leaving gene, leaving nucleus, leaving cell
Up and Out
bringing The Void
Up and Out
through synapse
past dendrite and axon
through Matters Grey
Up and Out and Into

Center of Mind
the Hole in
Your Self
the Whole within
the Holy
You

Now Wait

and Hold

Still
You were,
my love,
for a while,
I adored you,
wanted you,
needed you,
wanted your fingers on my lips
your nose against my skin
your **** against my cheek...
My love.
I. Loved. You.
for a while..
then you became a memory.....
of sweet lust...
And i still want you,
but you will never know.
You weren't husband material,
You weren't father material,
You weren't my material.
You just fit, me,
for a while....
Her heart skipped a beat
As his fingers caressed her cheek
Eyes closed.
Body, heart, and soul smiling.
The heat of his body radiated.
He kissed her forehead,
Soft lips, warm touch.
His body, so strong
Yet so gentle.
And for a moment
The world stopped turning,
They were alone.
Perfect happiness, perfect bliss.
Love spilled from their every pore.
The world could see it and so could they.
Her world was brighter when he was around.
Like a silent movie, unmuted.
Grey turned to color.
Every worry less important than before.
Everything was perfection.
Like Heaven on earth.
Both in disbelief that someone so perfect
Could want their bag of imperfection.
But all they needed was each other,
And they could take on the world.
Just not today.
Today all they want is each other
And their embrace.
The beats of two hearts as one.
Two lives combined.
A two-piece puzzle, finally complete.
Utter happiness
In their own perfect way.
 Feb 2013 Sumbul Nadeem
August
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
To see a business with empty windows
The blue building I pass by every day
With the once solid stairs only marked by a paint print
The man in the yellow jacket and the American flag shirt
Even though America is why he is walking on worn down shoes
320 on moffet, dilapidated apartments & hollow doorways
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
The blinking open sign that flickers, only welcoming ghosts
The boy who gets off the bus stop alone, walking by it without a glance
With his back pack strung tiredly over his shoulder
The universal feeling of not fitting in still fresh in his memory
The field of grass, deserted
A cemetery of parts & wheels & headlights & people's once dream machines
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
The lady who lives on 2nd near the sewer drainer
With hoards of stuffed animals waving from inside the windows
As she sits under the awning surrounded by them, smoking a cigarette with trembling fingers
The girl driving with her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel
Grinding her teeth as she watches the people she sees while on the road
Blinks slowly, as she knows home is where she is alone
But she'd rather see this road side sadness then the blank television screen
Nothing is a sadder sight to me
And she screams
As she crashes into a tree
The man in the yellow jacket turns his head
The boy's back pack falls to the ground
The women leaps up, her plush lifeless friends tumbling around her
The building are silent, remorseful
Nothing is a sadder sight to see
Expectations slide and diminish as I grow wiser and more superstitious
Presume it's low tide and finish with a wave that's astoundingly vicious

Don"t be fooled by my disguise as I continue to build and prepare for the worst
Every day I rise comes a surprise to my eyes with another heart quenched thirst

Oblivious pessimistic sheople treading in the desert, then they ask me for a drink
Reality cracked their rose colored glasses, now they see my glass teeter on the brink

So try and hope less and enjoy life more
Real optimism prevails from your core

You only want to talk to me when your hopped up on caffeine
And then you come crying with a popped open empty canteen

Relativity reminds us that it could always be worse or better
As technology blinds us to the simple pleasure of a letter

So wear your smiles across your faces like a filthy circus clown
Mine will travel miles and I won't let you all drag me down

Life's easy to waste chasing all the different quantities or amounts
But it´s the quality of taste of what's in your glass that really counts
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