Searching for a monument to build,
to my stranger nature.
A display of living purpose,
but it's paper,
A failure to surface,
when the current spills
my hopes out to the maker.

I'm breathing toxic calamity like a vapor.
I'm receding, firing soliloquies over faders,
and waiting for it to taper.
The baser instinct to sink into
to a shape conforming destiny's favor, amazing
but it's death in a manger.
A gift of unrequested breath
to levy questions of our nature
impartial but starting to loose
the fruit for us to play with

Don't play with your food
the canopy vines can't seem to stay in the mood
when amity cries
just as we bite another layer
and hope our spirit affords an existential favor.

The corporeal farce of the mortal coil
Where I'm going, what I've done,
who I am, who I have to become

Who am I to give a ****
about what has to be done
will I be actualized
if I inhabit the gun
will I be dazzled to find
that I should never have won
that all my fevers of prayer
were only threads to be spun

I am the definition of survivor's bias
clamoring for comprehension to a writer's silence
buying into lines reverberating in my mind
and all the while I soak
in revelation of the killing kindness

an absence of a unique purpose
a lavish elusiveness revealing
time as worthless, when I dig for deeper meaning
but seemingly informed by enduring
anguish in a world to test which
axiom I'll push the furthest
my reluctance to lift the curtain
My redundancy in spilling refusal
sooner empty than truly certain
My abundance of energy
filling the room
I bask in knowledge
Honoring the right to never learn it

And so I paint
I drape the walls and fall into
the sordid echoes,
calling through the mist.
Simple soothing bruising lips
They whistle darkness
move your hips
I'll leave a mark

I'm through with this.

my Aline
was a
queen and
matrix of
my love
that adored
jazz that
bossa nova
did herd
her tailspin
that my
kiss  blew
magic with
her clement
till a
thaw in
January regret

And there I sat at the table without a thing to eat.
We often take the sweetest and most precious things life has to offer for granted.
The thought persisted.
Of all things I decided to bake a pie.
All things considered I brought apples, pie crust and a pan.
Each apple individually sliced and coated in brown sugar.
Each individual time I thought of her smile and how she's made me laugh.
The oven intensified.
Preheated by how delectable and sweet she really is.
Although cook books were there I put ultimate trust in my ability from memory.
The places we've been, the things we've shared.
All the perfect recipe of how precious life truly is.
Our taste buds craved more.
Crumb covered mouths yet to be wiped clean.
To further elevate all the sweet moments life has to offer.
Our bodies like crust that hold these precious moments.
Preserved with slice after slice.
Rather than give pieces of ourself to satisfy the moment.
We give wholeheartedly.
Now I am full.
Finding the meaning of life

Got my hands tied
Ropes made of pride
Can't say how many times I've tried
No longer counting the lies
Every day, a little more dies
Of the girl who was inside
All my daydreams
That, used to seem
Like they were almost real
Like, I could almost feel
Another life begin
My losses into wins
But, everything I used to think was as it was-

Was just little man-made fairy dust.

And, I can't trust.....

What most people do.
Because, most people don't have a clue
About what's real.