What distance separates
After being this intimate
And holding tight
To the one out of sight.

A stranger under the covers
The soulmate out in the open
Lovers at bay
And lovers that will not stay.

That chatter of passerby
The friendly advice
One too many
One is enough.

32,000 feet above the lot of you and examining the strands of cloud, looking down and wondering just how safe I could be.

When can you start to discount coincidence as no such act of random encounter,

Instead start to look at fate and decide that this is a risk that needs taking...
///
Cutting through the grounds of sacred legislation and mystic men in Brooks Brothers suits,

So far from Hollywood, but matching 1929 *** appeal and romanticized images of gilded ghosts of America.

How do you keep all these agendas upon the people who claim to be the freest on Earth?

You making your living on collective barriers—

Has never stopped me from taking to the skies and leaving my confusion in the clouds,

All my worries absorbed by the cold cotton ***** I have no option but to soar through.

sometimes i can hear myself think
each thought rustling from one
corner to another in this bottomless
pit of my mind; they enter each
chamber stealthier than venom
slithering through your veins;
sometimes i can even hear a
whisper of an idea spark from each
flame

now im a restless fiend who seeks
comfort in the darkest of allies, alleyways
comfier than any bed, nightmares
so real when i wake up it’s as if the
moment between sleep and awake
is prolonged for a century,

purgatory, the lapses of time our lips are not together
bliss, a faint of a second after you moan my name
tragedy, the blink of your eyes as you realize
i belong to no one and yet, everyone belongs
to me

cole 2015

Be a happy girl, be a nice girl, echoes in your head
                               Making you never rest
          Be a modern girl, a hungry girl, want, want, want
                        Feed yourself, and you'll be set
                          Be happy girl, be a nice girl
                             Screaming in your head
             You're dead, you're dead, you're dead
                         All I needed was to be fed
               fed the love, nurture, that every sociopath
                                           Dreads

The invitation comes
in the form of a hotel room keycard
The venue
a back hallway where a half dozen gather
Music
a playlist from Spotify

The high priestess officiates
and the priest in a belly dancer’s outfit
ties a silk ribbon around the happy couple’s hands
a fine pagan tradition
Giggles over his jingling bangles
set the mood

Afterward we go to Rosa’s
still dressed in our finery
(except for the priest
who has found a sweatshirt)
The happy couple share a margarita
while the rest of us dine on tacos and empanadas

In the room we share with the new spouses
I rest with the best of royalty
By midnight
I am asleep on the priestess’ lap

Waiting for your messages
Knowing you probably already read mine
Fear creeping up my spine
Reloading the page a million times
And once more

Just to be sure

Just some words on the run.
swift across the page.
fleeing from each
snappy slogan you
slip them into;
as is the fashion,
in the social media age.

Cash-bag that hashtag,
in your ego's account.
watch that self
worth multiple,
until finally you're
the apple of your
own eye.

For other's “inspiration,”
flash your bare
cheek ***.
for other's “motivation,”
show that six pack
muscle stack.
As if you're both
the world highest ideal
and  it's base foundation.

But, all that's wrong
is true of me too.
so just like them
pass me by.
After all, this whole
thing is more words on the run.

Been staring at the screen too long,
Seeing faces in the whitewashed wall.
Been staring at the billboard
Promising a Brand New Freedom
And yet never felt so small.

Been fighting for inner peace,
The war inside my mind.
I find it helps to breathe,
To find that positive energy...
But I tend to just stick to wine.

Been giving up on giving up,
Then, giving up on that...
I’ve been a poet
And a life-long friend,
And I’ve been a selfish ****.

I’ve ****** on a stranger’s garden fence
When I was drunk and high,
I’ve disappeared for weeks on end
And never given a reason why.

I’ve been collecting memories
And turning them to lies,
I’ve become a shoulder
That you can lean on,
But one that you cannot cry.

Went crazy in the hotel sheets,
Took a pill to help me sleep,
The afterglow burned me out,
The after-party was letting out,
Been throwing up for days on end,
The winter blues, the long weekend.

Been falling into old routines,
Been lost inside my absent dreams.
Meditate on the toilet seat
To gain a modicum of sanity
In the caterwaul of the working day,
In the onset of reality.

Been picking fault in every line,
In every footstep, in every rhyme,
In the clumsy way I tie my shoes,
In the way I do not keep up with the news.

Been staring at the screen too long,
Hearing voices in the silence.
Been claiming love and poetry
But I think in *** and violence.

Been fighting for inner peace,
The war inside my mind.
I just find my way
To fill the day
And let the clock unwind.

Lone pine lorn
is my heart.
Willowy, hanging, tangled
is my hair.
Dim light, we kept apart.
Rejoice;
thinking of skin, bare.

Bewildered I have felt before,
but nothing such as this.
Adore, ardor, my centaur-
deep molasses kiss.