It's the air,
the waft of coolness that erodes at heat till its steal.
the spread of grey sky; miles and miles.
A phantom limb of memories.
The air isolates and confines,
enough to hide the horizon,
enough for the longing of heat to feel numb,
Impassible; however attempting.
to subside a feeling that makes your gut twist.
A bitter disgust for yourself and the way you let others treat you.
Impassible, yet passive
as you do anything to untangle the sick feeling that lingers.
It's the air,
a reminder on a day like this your worth left you empty.

This is my first
And last time noticing
How firm your body is.
Your back a slab of stone,
All hot flesh and bones,
With arms welded from steel.
Yet your heart is ice, winter,
And I know I am not there,
In the hearth,
When I pulled you into
Our last hug.

At night, under the dim darkness,
I found, the world’s best tranquilness
Under wafts of water and soap
Folding clothes, dreaming about hope.

Opened the door, felt how snug, warm,
The fabric’s touch was on my arm
As I folded each piece with care
And slowly roll socks, pair by pair.

Ballads, dolce, I am entranced.
Cantabile, as my hands danced
To the guitar's riff, the drumbeat,
Sweet heartbeat, beneath their heat.

She stood on the edge of the cliff, suspended somewhere in the distance between me and the setting sun. She looked back towards me, waiting patiently at the foot of her elongated shadow.

Her eyes were brimming with tears. Barely visible streaks of salt water already stained her cheeks, but across her lips, a smile. Wide enough to show nearly all her perfectly aligned teeth, her lips taught, almost painfully stretched across her face.

A laugh escaped her throat, something between a laugh and a sob and a cry, cut short as her lungs forced her to gasp, then falling into a spasm of short, shallow breaths.

The words fell like diamonds from her mouth to my ears, scoring my brain with their edges, blinding my inner light with their aura.

I was swept away in the moment, which I thought could never possibly end. But of course it did. And the silence that followed left me shattered and alone.

An escape made in earnest
The quiet upkeep of missing links
An upheaval of something good
To relinquish all sanity
As cracks begin to race across the surface
Dividing the tension across abstract faces
The sound of a jet engine
And the wind that grows ever warmer
The final rays of light
On this endless, waxing summer
In a chemical solution

Earthquake weather cracked the sky deep
A cool reprise in midstreaked heat
Alight with the flame of desire
burning with a full pink moon  
Sleeping canyons black from fire

Glowed swelling, glimmering into
Neptune’s fantasies, frenzied
Splintered mad with sweltering gems
Shaking the summer from our hair
Dreams falling like stardust into the ravine
As the earth said “anything can be, anything can be...”

Flickering upon cracked faults
Glisten and catch in the night’s sunlight
Devastatingly seductive, smolderingly bright.

It’s too hot outside for what feels like forever,
I resent it because even though I don’t know it is,
I feel it is, a signal that no matter if I tidy up, brush my teeth
and put beer stained t-shirts in the hamper

the sun will swell and gobble up my effort
absorbing freshly vacuumed floors into an inconcievable inferno.  

But God, it’s the sun.
What’s a pile of ***** dishes to solar fire, He whose wrath I feel a billion miles away.
God, infinite infinities of distance but I’m sweating in the time it takes to find my car in this Godforsaken parking lot. God there is nothing worse than parking lots. I’ve never been pleased to spend a moment more than I expected in a parking lot.

Every blacktop another ****** unbearable embassy of hell - a boring, baking sunscape.

Each and every one an anti-oasis of indifference and privation.

If I were a steaming cup of tea-
Fresh from the kettle-
And you were a solid cube of ice
I’d melt you like a puddle, and we’d be one.

If I were a hot blacktop pavement-
Searing from the sun-
And you were a sticky piece of gum
I’d melt you like a puddle, and we’d be one.

If I were a pocket to a pair of overalls-
Tumbling from the dryer-
And you were a waxy type of crayon
I’d melt you like a puddle, and we’d be one.

If I were myself-
Sizzling from your love-
And you were yourself-
Going in for a hug-
You’d melt me like a puddle, and we’d be one.

a finger lingers on my lips
carefully touching pulsing heat
I wonder how this love will taste