Stars explode during daytime,
firecrackers produce my ashes
burnt to death ,
I see an oasis far away
soaking up in the desert
with the faux Pyramids behind,
sand flies into my humble vortex
revealing my secrets hid behind the curtain
it’s too passé !
my shoes run off with the tide
rubbing against the scales of a Tuna
my feeble conscience is hidden behind those doors
playing hide and seek for long,
I drink every thirst of water
capturing the swarm in my jar
margarita flows in the canals of Venice
creating drunkards by the mast,
my boat where Venus reigns
sinks in the depths of my soul
lifeless limbs swim my wretched body away
I embrace the black moon .

Hazel eyed boy so mysterious and abstruse, won't you let me explore you?
You seem so disclosed but let people know that you are one who won't let anything show. You're hard to read. Some have attempted and left your pages tattered and torn, just know that I have always been one that is up for a difficult read.

she's a wild unconventional girl
her hair flies about her in wisps
she seems to be the one with bare feet everywhere
her friends call her a mystery and a tease
but not in the alluring curl-of-a-finger sort of way
in the way that she is deep
deep as her eyes are blue like the ocean
eyes that are so old, they tell stories of pain
buried beneath layers no one will ever see
including this femme fatale herself
she attracts those with the purest hearts
she doesn't even corrupt them, just makes them think too much
she's the other woman who is as beautiful as her photographs
she throws her head back when she laughs
she is familiar to everybody and yet always seems untouchable
if you touch her you are brave or a fool
she will always be that one
the one that got away but also you got away from

I chanced upon an old letter
That had clearly sailed legless on seas
Crumpled, damp but inside the envelope:

Intelligible writing by sight
But by comprehension I was lost
Disorientated and sea-sick.

Sometimes you come across
an object, and in no way
can you explain its origin,
it’s purpose, or the frame of
mind of the person who last
encountered it,

The letter was dry and slightly
smudged but the envelope (and stamp)
could not be made out at all

I could not send it back
If I could I would be lost for
words, as it seems they were in ways:


...and I have little leaves, I love you and I miss you so much.
When he finished the day in the ocean waiting for you to choose from Aserahosov read our son and apricot. My shirtsleeves damp in your memory. Our subject is expected later to the rest of the flight path of the earth ready to kiss a little faster on the planet.
I broke a strong bird while I like the cakes, I break the strong current. Love my *** I strongly flow. It has been Pecan pie is to say...

My understanding of romance is minimal
But to have leaves seems morbid
Even more so than the breaking of
the bird...
Why should a bird get hurt in this
gross courtship?
and a strong one too,
what act of love can break
anything but a heart?

I like the cakes, I break the strong currents

Perhaps the words of someone rushing
Across oceans in the name of love
Slicing through the chunky waves
But the cake is a bit out of place
Surely no one would rush across oceans
Wide and rough and restless
For a cake that was simply ‘liked’
This must all be a prank...

This one then—

Love my *** off I strongly flow…

Now, I hope the flowing is another
Nautical reference, it would tie in nicely
With the breaking of currents-
I cannot comment on what precedes it
There is much I cannot discuss
In this disgusting letter, I wish
I had not been given it.
****.




*—If I were a seahorse, I know that just being a seahorse would be enough...