Tangled headphones
Knotted mind,
Messed up music,
Confused half rhyme.

I have found myself
With crystals up my nose
and your tongue down my throat.
They're the same thing, really.
When we're together, I'm happy
But the second we're not,
my heart doesn't know how to beat.

Often

She sits

    And wonders

Does she make

Somebody’s heart




Skip?

I Am 25**

Play Poem Video
With a love a madness for Shelley
Chatterton Rimbaud
and the needy-yap of my youth
has gone from ear to ear:
I HATE OLD POETMEN!
Especially old poetmen who retract
who consult other old poetmen
who speak their youth in whispers,
saying:--I did those then
but that was then
that was then--
O I would quiet old men
say to them:--I am your friend
what you once were, thru me
you'll be again--
Then at night in the confidence of their homes
rip out their apology-tongues
and steal their poems.

'Do you hear my beating heart?'
He asked me once
Well this I must say,
He is not a musician
Yet, I do listen to his heartbeat
Making a rhythm, a soundtrack
A love song
Just for me to hear

Wake up
I hear you
Wake up
I feel you
Wake up
Do not hide, please.


My dear heart of mine.

they tell me I'm made of dust
as though a slight gust
could ******* apart
As if the beating wasn't just my heart
but a maze of particles
infusing every article
dead and blown away

they tell me ill return to ashes
like i was made of ashes in the first place
like instead of thoughts it was just space
that your hand on my heart wasn't what kept it apace
but just science in the ashes
in the dust

I am beginning to wonder
how many more times
I will awake
to another sunrise
to find
that I never quite shut my eyes
yet again-
I was just spinning or
maybe swimming
in these visions of sins
and grins met upon
the second guess that
set in after that double take.
Is this
something we can make
or will it just
make everything
more tedious-
what we are is fleeting
and I’m lost on a bus
and the schedules swing
in pendulums-
when they hit the bottom
they strike as weapon
of wasted time
and I need a ride.
  I might get off track
but at least
I can keep you laughing
with the things I say
behind a timed rhyme style-
I’m done with denial
of my actions of a child.
Excuse me
I just went a little wild
trying to beat the feeling
that I was mild,
just mediocre.
Compensation
for a consolation prize
I’ll play the joker.
I don’t have a spine
but I’m paying for things
that aren't mine
Don’t worry
I’ve just lost my mind
in the shrinking times
that grow more rapidly
with their progression.
The earth stands still
while heads
are standing upside down
in the sands of their dreams
and perspective realities
I’m up in the trees
or maybe
I’m just trying to get closer
to the sky
so I can feel free.
There’s where I need to be-
those dying stars aren’t fleeting.
Not immortal,
no maybe not;
but so ever radiant
in a cataclysmic death.
Finding my way
through broken phrases
and run-ons
I’m tripping towards
my glory days
wondering
if I can actually make it
or if I will be forced
into the illustrations
of exaggerated narrations
of a day last week
or last month,
does it matter if it’s gone?
I’m just like you,
trying to hold on.

I like to imagine,
That our hands are intertwined together,
That our legs are tangled in the sheets,
That my head is on your chest,
And our heart beats in synch