I go dark
Blood pulsing
Foot falls fast
Furiously
Pounding the ground
Swimming before me
The night beckons
As it always does
I am not the wolf
But I howl
With centuries of fury
Angry
Lost
My tribe eons apart
My people
My truth
Bare skin broken
Like chords of history
Musical and painful
Thin and wiry
Spirit fiery
My ears thud
The wheat bends
Beneath my pace
I am the wind
Will not win
Nature’s race
But the chaff
Rises once more
Not separated
But part of the whole
I can fly
With no wings
I can soar
I am the drums
So I run
The poet
The child
The native
Burnt skin
To the edge of the world
Around then back again
Running
And running
Always running

Two knocks at my door,* I get up to answer-a shadow in the darkness,
A voice asks if they can come in, I don't even recognize them,
I left the door open a little too much last time, I learned not to do that.
Why, you ask? Because I was all alone and on my own then.

I walk towards the door, the voice sounds blurry, kind of faint-
As if dizzyness and despair seems in the air, I clutch the door,
Ready to open it and then without warning "something" comes
To life, I can't seem to see as "it" moves around on the floor!

Then I finally turn on the light, IT'S MY CLOTHING?
I shake it until the bag is still, it's alive somehow what do I do?
I check for the cause, I'm in the cabin loft, I can hear childish laughing-
Chanting again and again-"WELCOME TO THE BEDROOM!"
My head is reeling, I'm wide awake-is this really happening...?

And as your presence wanes
my words become fewer,
my feelings; less vocal.
The day grows irrelevant,
And I can no longer produce
thoughts of any significance.
As if knowing you was blood in my veins,
And I am slowly
                             running out.

I’ve been on the run
and I think you’ve known.
I can’t stop this fear,
I’m caught in the headlights like a deer.
I’m back and forth,
you’re south while I seem to be north.
Polar opposites?
Those attract, don’t they?
Or am I making up excuses for me to stay?
See, I’m not quite sure anymore,
it’s always been that I’ve had one foot out the door,
ready to run
with no worries under the sun.
But now there’s you,
and I’m actually contemplating what to do.
Our love is like a hurricane; damaging, epic, and beautiful.
And when I’m with you, it’s something so youthful.
Now the fear’s dissipating,
and what’s next is what I’m anticipating.
For the first time there’s promise,
even though our relationship is the furthest thing from flawless.
I’m still running, but I’m not running away,
I’m running to you and the journey is already underway.
You’ve changed me for the better, and I can’t disagree,
I love the thought of a forever with you and me.

One day you will know.
One day you might understand.

Any averageness you ache for, you will not find here.
No organization, nor solidity.
I am a whirlwin of inconsistency.

My thoughts are never ending.
My body is never resting.

These feet will never settle on solid ground.
This soil will always forbid it.
Like sinking sand, it embodies me if I give in to its suddle ease.

I'll run my race.
This never ending pursuit of wholeness.

You can't keep up.
Your desire is what keeps this earth above your eyes, where every other living soul chooses to reside.

Life viewed through sunglasses
Black as the starless night
A soul hiding, black
Innocent, sheets of white

Mind, numbing pains
Creating pains anew
Façade, change of face
Easily seen through

As a Bloodhound on ice
Seeking love true
Running awkwardly forth
In attempts to woo

From heartache and rejection
To love gone awry
Heedless hopes of affection
Self-deceit and lies

He follows in the footsteps of a dead man,
a wild man, an ill-tempered storm
who lashed out at the world so he wouldn’t conform
to the ordinary life from which he ran.

Now that man is dead as an empty beer can.
He follows anyway, trudges on through the lukewarm
waters in his wake; trudges on to deform
the monotony from which his life began.

He thinks he may as well be wed
to his drinks and his smokes and the girls in his bed
all faceless and nameless and only marginally alive.

He never wants to know that absolute dead
feeling that lurks in people’s heads.
He wants the blood in his veins to pump, his soul to thrive.