Someone had asked if I knew you,
I said I did...
So I tried saying your name but the sound struggled to fall off of my lips.
I tried and tried again but I couldn't remember where it was I knew you from.
Went searching for you in my heart and immediately became numb.
Felt a sharp pain inside my brain before things went blank; I couldn't pick you out in a crowd...
Thought it was you but I seem to be the one who's fading now.
If the beginning of a movie is beautiful but ends so terribly, then what moments will be so vivid inside your memory?
Will you leave the theater speaking of it for some time, or will you do your best to erase the whole experience from your mind?
I can't get that energy back but it caused her face to blur, making it easier to forget whatever we really were.
I tried to say it one last time but it got caught on the tip of my tongue, and it was there where I gave it up, then my whole body went numb...

Upon every arrival of every celestial birth,
There is only one common normality.
A susceptibility to an infinitesimal design,
A kink in the chain, the war of our mind.
This psychosomatic condition is no stranger,
A rendition of life’s existence.
Confinement exacerbated by poor health in the gut line,
Hormonal imbalances manipulated by addictive influences.
Paradigms shifting in front of awakening eyes,
Psychedelic truths hidden within the tides of time,
Confusion and conflict preventing expansion of evolutionary consciousness,
A cyclic pattern, the sadness in all our lives.
This idea is immortal and internal in the human genome,
The greatest subterfuge,
Amnesia

Butterflies spilled forth from her mouth,
Like the promises I’d only dreamt to ever desire,
          And just as heavily, entered the chains,
          Bags to promise scars atop soil, long walks.

So come the tilling, the cull and the harvest
When merchants meet maidens, ***** hands wave
          And having seen the second fracture,
          At least I could share in the shouldering.

But the butterflies, eventually to crisp and husk
Under sun, stench and eventual ends prior Eden,
          Dull blades and edges broken
          Like the backs of those that believed before;

She’d be granted her wings, her winds and pomp,
Like the nights in Matamoros had promised –
          Leaving me the luggage and at the least,
          A scent of what love could mean.