Cold showers on Hot days
Laying naked in this Indian haze
As beads of sweat glide down my cheek
I hope I black out, so that I might sleep,
to drift me off to a better place
Through the debris of outer space
Floating through the nebulae
Searching for someone to connect retinae
Igniting that spark we all yearn to find
Both body, soul, and mind  
A connection that feels prehistoric
Searching for that one human that makes us feel euphoric

I sleep in the morning haze.
Wake in the jubilant night.
Die in the shadows of dusk.

Anticipation climaxes
the moment you unscrew
that seal tight jar
keeping hazy secrets
locked away.
    You're about to touch the
    snow-kissed mountain tops
    and breath air so pure,
    it distorts the very heartbeat,
and that feeling granted only by the enemy
--sobriety--
drags you to hell itself.
It gets off tormenting your every particle of being
but you're clouded in a smokey shield and
wielding the winning sword colored ash black
  (obsidian
     volcanic
       explosive)

Defeat is on the horizon
and you're so high above the battleground
that a giddy serenity enfolds you into the
golden-dipped sunset

But the height only lasts
for as long as you hold in
that choking air

and it's gone

and your sanity returns

and you've never felt
more insane
than ever
before.

When the streetlights
turn their gaze
to the empty roads,
Leave your sight
in chipped glasses
and your love
in tipped wine
on the floor

Burn your gaze
to me
and move your words
through me
with this toxic love
of blinding mercy
to the lonely night
and the longing to share it
with another
until the sobering dawn

or let this be nothing more
than hazy remains
of a bitter night romance
of cheap wine
and empty words

we spoke through the silence of shadow-puppets
on a borrowed brick wall stage
     we'd made our home

we'd whisper secrets to each other
in the same morse-code voices
     that flashlights use to speak to the stars

i guess you were right
you really could fold space like a map
and you really did punch right through it