I need inspiration.
I need a new muse.
Not the kind that impresses
But rather undresses
And leaves you with the essence
Of a poet, raw.
Exposed but not defenseless.
I'll be open,
You're all welcome.
Come in,
Kick off your shoes,
Get comfortable.
For maybe if I let you see,
I will have some new vision
Of myself and who to be.
Maybe your eyes will tell me-
When I drop my guard down
-What I really look like
From the vision of
An unfamiliar gaze.
It's possible I'll see horror
Or maybe some pain
In the eyes of the many
That witness me plain.
I'm sorry to sound dramatic,
But this is what I must have.
To feel what you feel
When your eyes grasp my spirit.
I must know.
I simply need inspiration.

You lie down in bed,
Feeling the presence of the dead,
They moan and groan,
Their fingers as cold as stone
clawing at your bare skin.

They beg for your soul,
As they now have no other after life goal,
They wish to be you,
Able to chew and to put on a new pair of shoes,
Oh so lucky you are to be alive.

They tug at your hair,
and at all the cloths you wear,
They all have grim faces,
Each from different places,
All dead,
At least that is what they said.

They want to live,
Like you and me,
They no longer want to strive,
This endless destiny.

One day they might,
Maybe even as I write,
They may just break free,
and live on for eternity,
In *heaven.

I do not remember you
All the time.
But when I do,
It's when I lay bare on my bed
Twisting and turning to fall asleep.
It's also when I abruptly wake up
And feel the empty space next to me.
But mostly, it's when the emptiness
Spreads within me during each heart beat.

Tonight I'll sleep with my clothes on, because I don't want to wake up from dreams of you kissing the delicate skin of my back to find that your existence is no where near me.
I don't want to suffer tonight knowing that when I wake up I'll be colder than I was in your arms when I saw you last and the only solace I have for heat are layers of fabric instead of your skin.
If there's one thing I could ask of you now, it would be to make me your lover, and make this your home so I can guarantee your safety myself instead of relying on someone else to keep that ******, beating vessel all in one piece.
I don't trust anyone with you but me, because I know things about you that no one else does and God forbid I even try to share your secrets anywhere but in the air directly between you and I. Let me grasp your hand in the dark and have you feel my warmth, so you know I'm there. So you know I won't let go.
Make me your lover and make this your home so I can cherish you like no one else will. So I can remember all of my favourite things about you and help you mellow the things I don't. So I could kiss you every night and be guaranteed to still have you the next morning. So when we say goodbye to one another, I know the timeframe it will be a goodbye for....
Because it won't be goodbye. It will be 'see you later.'
But tonight I'll sleep with my clothes on, because that way I don't have to bear my scars to anyone else but the dark beneath the fabric; so my heart can bleed freely and maybe you won't know of the loss I've suffered for you.

Wooden hands
Bruising random shapes
On my bare thighs.
Wooden hands
Leaving me covered
In rainbow lies.

And when wooden hands
Cross my mind,
They come in the form
Of sunshine.


F.Z.N

Saturate me with your passion
Fulfill me with desire
Serenade me with your longing
Motivate me to devour you

But before then. . .

Strip me bare
And promise me
That through all the pain and suffering
I had to bare
You will hold dear
All the life lessons
My scars have to share

They called me a pessimist
And I guess I am
I mean it's true
But it's not my fault that the autumn days are dark
Whispering harshly in the night
Ripping leaves off of trees
Leaving them limp and bare to survive winter
The little winds foreshadow the coming brutal storms
That leave us cold in terror
But the breeze is so powerful
It numbs my skin like a drug
Keeps my blood rushing, wanting more
And my eyes are pleased to see the rainfall of the leaves
From branches of clouds
So beautiful
Then comes the holidays and cremed cocoas
The laughter and the dazzling crisp snow
One true pessimist
They call me but I'll go with it and let it go

I ran after you on the hard concrete
Tired, worn, and calloused bare feet
But nothing could stop me
Not the storm in the sky
Nor the look in your eye
Not today
Today I run until you stop
Until our looks finally lock
Tired, worn, and calloused eyes
Teary and bloodshot
Perhaps you’ll see
Something worthwhile in me
That could somehow keep your feet
Rooted to this gritty concrete