Over the tabletop
Nothing to do
They're lonely and empty
From not touching you

They lounge and they dance
They tap and they wait
But your skin's not there
And they anticipate

The day that they'll find
The touch that they crave
On the hips of the one
Who they intend to save

And meanwhile, my heart
waits on and forever, stuck
swinging like my fingertips
without love's luck

if there is ever a parallel universe,
i want to exist in serenity with you,
there and forever.
complete utopia,
devoid of all negativity,
my lust for you expands eternally.
i would sacrifice my cohesion,
my solidity,
my utter being,
to simply exist within your comfort.

The night is young
new
beautiful
silent
joyous

It holds so many opportunities, and just as the flower who only opens her petals when the moonlight embraces them, so I am parallel.

I thrive in the night. It is my time, my hour, my seconds that only I have dominion over as I rise from the petals of my bed and am lit by the candlelight.

The waves of glow bounce off my nightgown slowly, slowly, and the undulating satin reverberates off my long legs as it dances with the faint breeze flowing through my room. I smile weakly.

Moving to the window, I can see for miles- a stretch of green quilting left there by God and his court, the velvet of the stitching vibrant in the light of the pale moon. It is unfinished.

The candle in the sill below me wanes slightly, and I blink. Reaching down, my fingers touch wax and guide it to my lips.

Fire reflects in my eyes the passion I have for such nights, for the silence that is filled with the deafening meekness of night sounds, for the musky, dark scent of my attic bedroom, from the taste of the faint dust lining the air.

I sigh, and smoke infiltrates my nostrils quietly, without invitation but without respite. The light is gone. My fingers quiver as I hold the wax, cold and lifeless now, and I sigh again. Quieter.

The night is brand new. I have only to light but one more match in order to explore it more fully. There is naught I cannot do when I hold in my hand this sheen that will light the recesses of the dark that haunt my room. My life. My eyes. And my fears.

Tear-stained floor,
Ceilings burn from my gaze.
Why can't I make someone stay?

And into the wee hours of the
morning,
struggling to slip into slumber
before the onset of dawn,
I wonder if you meant it
when you said you still
think of me
all the time.
Are you thinking of me now?
Is your body frozen,
back flat against your mattress,
eyes glued to the ceiling;
are you laying motionless
with a brain wide awake?
Oh, how I imagine
our bodies trapped in parallel framing,
equally restless with
parallel thoughts
interwoven in the space between us.

I have chains on all four limbs
With weights dragging me downward
While time is heaving me up
Around my torso, forward.
I am drowning in the air
And can breathe under water,
I see all the colors but
Black and white, they don’t differ.
Clarity is one vast blur,
Reason is their opinion;
I’m locked in the parallel-
Or so I think, I can’t tell.

Naive
Like flowers in a hurricane
we let sparks fly with such
atomic energy
encompassing the existence
of a connection unexpected
relentless
but for certain realities...
This truth will be the dream
in our universe
paralleled.

If love were lines we'd be parallel
We whisper appreciation
Instead of screaming possession
Staying together forever
Yet touching never
I think I love our lines
Everyone else is so perpendicular;
Touching for a moment
Possessing for an instant
And go off in different directions
Forever more.
We go the same way
And eventually,
At infinity we will meet
At the end of everything we will have each other
And we are the last thing we will do, say, see
So I'll meet you at infinity

I got on this train,

It’s nice and cozy,

but I don’t understand

Why sometimes goes too fast

And then too slow instead.

People come on board and smile.

We start to talk

And get on for a while.

Then all of a sudden they are gone.

I get upset and wonder why

Did I do something wrong?

Was it my fault

Or their journey was only for so long?

The answer…well,

It’s not in this train, but other

In another Galaxy much further

Where trains are just concepts

And people just light,

Where things last forever,

As time doesn’t mind.

I left the scent of bleach
To the palms of my father
And disavowed his residence,
A rock atop, “Mount Redeye.”
Let him keep the – sore back,
Torn ankle and manic boss too.

In adamancy, I mention this,
Special sort of, “resolute,”
While sipping nectar
Blanketed ether
Come the first minute
I ought be somewhere else.

And it’s when our sun greets,
The, “guilt,” the, “grief,”
Or tomorrow’s, “acquiesce,”
That I’d taste an awkward
Twitch of, “failure,”
Unbecoming last night’s plum;

Something lesser than sweet,
And a torture at tip of tongue –
An existence’s, “respect,”
Fermented, “20 years,” overdue,
Come peak, the admission of
My unrelenting weakness.

And though I’d never really
Known, “Him,”
I knew what he did,
I did what he did,
And’d lasted only days,
Having worked if only hours.

I’d left jobs before; he couldn’t.
I’d walked before; he wouldn’t,
And how my sweet amnesia failed;
But rather, scarred; burnt sacred,
Blunt, and brim of soul, prior
Sobriety and when I wept, “Father.”