Pleasure,
Is it a god?
Pain,
Is it the devil?

Given the wrong circumstances,
They can both be evil.
Then what is it I rely on
To help me differentiate between right and wrong?

Time,
Is it eternal?
Health,
Is it reliable?
And when things don't go to plan,
Are my consequences inevitable?
Then what is it I can count on
That's been unchangeable all along?

Will,
Is it sturdy?
Relationships,
Will they keep swaying me?

And when pain,
Pleasure, time and health test me,
What is it I can rely on to keep me steady?

Why,
I feel like a kite on a single string,
The string is a hand stretching out from a deep sea,
The hand is a lever with the note:
"Pull me!"
And I hold on and it may be fine,
But relationships,
Will, health, time, pain and pleasure
Eventually rot and turn bitter
And they let me go
And I am reminded of how
Lost I truly am...
In this vast ocean...
In this wide space...
I am reminded that in this world,
Nowhere in my mind is safe;
I used to ridicule that which I cannot see or feel,
But there was nothing of this world that was real.
All of my idols
Left me,
Scathed.
And all that’s left to
Hold on to
Are the ideals of hope
And faith.

Summer's end,
September appears.
The passage of time is

unbelievable. I'll leave my home-town
and travel far away. I wonder what it is
I'm running from. The inheritance

of madness. I went out last night
and got off with someone.
What am I afraid of?

steaming, pleasure drips
milked from the bloated udders
of faceless others

You need to cook

to think about what tastes good
and shop with tastebuds, textures and time in mind,
challenge your palate
with things you might not like
but just maybe through salt, fat,
sweet and vinegar
you’ll begin a journey with no end

Start with basics:
pick a thing that as a kid you loved
and muck about with it
add stuff, take stuff
reflect on heat
(too high is the trap we all fall in,
or too low, through fear)

Most of all cook, as a ritual
make victuals that force a grin
that draw friends, families and lovers in
and with greasy fingers and chins,
grand sustenance and common guilt,
we’ll smile and rise

The litmus test for loneliness, is the approaching dark
and the clawing hand
that pulls you closer to your resignation to become engulfed in it.
An empty café
bustling only with,

The screaming thoughts that stack up in your mind like poker chips. The same expression frozen stiff makes you fake a smile
when least appropriate.
A jester at the funeral,

Human touch just strikes you as unusual because an open hand is like
subtle subterfuge, syphoning your soul for personal use.
Emotional exposure erodes a stone demeanor.
Loneliness is like an open road with no street signs pointing home.

It feels so great to choose the path
That leads to opposite direction,
Pretend I've never had a map,
Relax and just enjoy momentum,

Breathe in the sweetness of the freedom's scent,
And find the peace in mother Nature.
The wrong direction I once went
Has turned to be a nice adventure

Truth is in the pleasure...that is consequence.

your skin creates peace inside me
creating wrinkles in time
i find myself constantly longing to feel you close
for us to create friction between gravity
our inertia to propel us into voids of pleasure
nothing between us is what i desire
but when you deny me
black holes devour me
crushing my guts into pulp
bleeding me with your rejection
i blend till i am nothing from what i began