there's something about you
that drives me insane
something about you
thats takes all the pain
something about you
soothing like rain
something about you
that lingers like a stain
there you are
in the back of my mind
every single second
every minute
all the time
waves crashing
against jagged rocks
im falling for you
i don't think i can stop

Rotten
Displaced silence
Took presidency
Over anything ever before
And never once again
Beginning to account from
Where she left

She flew for a minute
Then touched earth
And decided
It wasn't her cup of tea
Why sit with
The normals
Why retrace the
Same look
The same composure
She felt very much out of place

But look wait she said
There's a higher ground instead
I don't desire enough quit yet
Still I want to finish my making
I've forgotten a few steps
Along the way
See I've been undertaken
By hardships
And bills and kids and life
Its all taking a very long
To allow and to claim
And to find myself some piece of mind
All my own
I had completly forgotten who
I was
The black brain void I called it
Sepped in one night and she forgotten
How to leave it
So she stood there
Frozen
Running in place
Not making a silent
Yet screaming nothing
All day

The empty took hold of her and made a martyer out of a prince
The principals thumb ruled her own
Hell she Forgot she even had a voice

The wine stains won't wash out
I hope you do soon, though.

coffee stain memories (an aging love)

our dozen or so mugs,
all white, her color of choice,
accumulating stains of black-brown coffee
that the dishwasher poetically concedes,
a decade plus of drinking, now, oh-now,
****** and can’t be removed

the lips of some are chipped,
the lips of some are chapped,
but they remain employed
for first coffee is a demonstrable
affectation of affection that losing
would be costly

but one of us soto voce, quietly whispers
the radical ionized idea,
shouldn’t we replace,
this should-not is an update, a cognition of
a bridge too far,
both agreeing, both conceding the symbolism,
the heart acknowledges a momentary thrombosis,
for the losing turnover is a winless loss
messaging in and about,
an aging staining love losing

~
A no ki tov tuesday poem

Even if it only glitters in the sky approaching the city,
as your vision blurs and smog suffocates your lungs.
We all return to gaze into the faded stained crossing,
to remember when two fading breaths drifted apart,
eyes glistening in the hourglass of two twisted hearts.

I pretend these eyes see brief clarity beneath,
this path of split ends of unkempt dreads.
Not much to send but I'm tempted to lend,
a broken sentence with no pretense.

Kept fighting rewriting reread recollections,
staring at dead stars lighting my reflection.
Seeing what is and what could be there.
What is and what could be tangibly unaware.
Like what was and what wasn't we are both here and there.
Forgetten remains conciously aware.

So now I sit smoking a ciggarette,
Fighting to write something of sense.
Staring into pixels of kaleidescope pills.
A constant reminder of concocting thrills.
Beginning to burn out and all I wrote:
What fades away turned to smoke.

Everyone wears white shoes
What's wrong with black?
With black, nothing stains
Strong in color, fierce in stride

While white is too easily
Stained by whatever touches it
Treading, becoming ***** who
swore they were pure to heart

Some people do care
to step into the dark
puddle, the puddle that
ripples in concealed rage