That Remains..
Of my soul... ****** dry by the leeches of disaster
My blood is gone... My Zombie-fied  body aches to bleed, once again.
I'm a sponge dried out. Under the Sun.
I need water, to drink. To get back to the fluid master...
of getting "back to life"
Becoming more human.. this boil sets to bust
In need of relief of the torment of walking on eggshells
To avoid a nuclear chain reaction..
Caught in the middle of the battle grounds....
I'm the old and dying car that has been left in the junkyard to rust.
To have the ability to smell the roses, once again..
As my nose has been cut off to spite my face
My rebellion to ask for a "helping hand"
Infected me..then the community like a deadly virus..
It spread throughout my loving community and infected
all to grow green, sick, hard, and drug into crazy days
As an army of those who tossed away their hearts..
Not only destroyed his and their brains..
Hungry for more of "true Feeling" Hunger ways..
"Give me the vaccine or cure"
So I can become beautifully flawed as a Human
Since this Monster's once Human heart
Seems like a bright light which is now dulled to a Memories Blur

I wonder why I wish to speak to you again
Despite the fact that it felt like you never listened
You never listened.
I complained about it constantly
Wrote sonnets about your lack of focus on me
Hoping you needed hearing aids so I could blame something else
Instead of feeling unimportant
You claim differently though.
Said I built up a wall between us
And now I realize that we weren’t only not on the same page
But we were in completely different libraries
Searching two different encyclopedias
Trying to find a way to define our feelings
I wonder whose anxiety made you feel boxed in
Was it my obsessive need for structured plans that built you in
Or your neglection of problems at hand that made them pile up?
We made better construction partners than lovers
Although that doesn’t mean much
All the bridges we tried to build collapsed into our salty tears
The home we wanted to make sunk into its foundation
We should’ve stuck to classmates.
And I as to move on from another failed relationship
Building roads to a different city that needs to repair its infrastructure
I wonder if you even deserved the sonnets I wrote.

There is a rhythm to these fleeting emotions,
they come and flee in harmony,
to and fro

C'mon out to the rattled caves
the deep-sea malaise
rested in the grey metamorphs
of an ancient coastal chain

Where Sisyphean slips of tectonic rifts
pull the molding clay
like play-dough
and old rock that turns anew
churned into
great catacomb stele
Babylonian towers far away
from the great
Mesopotamic
interstate

Surrounded by the immumerous trees
the military sharpness of their pine
quills writing their mark in the dirt
for a hundred turns or so
only to be rearranged
into the great intercontinental soil
Truly
multisolipsistual

And on the aggregate
held open the mists
of the vast expanse of ocean
beyond L.A
and stole the fruits of the tiny parceled condominium rainwater
from distance far away
angry men shouting--
"Give us back our life blood, ******* YOU!"

Filling the tanks of their fleshomobiles
running around and sweating it out
trading it for cloth and wiping their brow on
brown shirts
perturbed and disobeyed

But that great man with the chin muscatche
brought the rough riders out of their dome
into the frontier, riding trains
Off they go!
Seeking paradise in the sands
and the trees
and the coastal breeze
dreaming
of a world owned and seen
by the world
by man
and by all these things

It would be grand

But that rock has been seen before
in Luarentian islands long ago
or perhaps a great FUJI-SAN of the west coast
worshiped by critters and dinosaurs
You are late to the game, sweet dreamers, you!
These monuments give to honor due
not you,
no sir did you build these things?
did you mold these things
with the patience of a father
with the consequentiality
of the womb
and a motherly affection
for all things true?
the gift is for you,
remember your father's gifts
sweet princes of the earth
because they will outlive you.





And I walk along the stream
stepping upon these little bits of Yosemite
Pulverized mountain rocks
Renal Stones of the diseased
to which the water flushed out deeply
and cured the grey things from all that left them
displeased
hoping for more than just selfies
and sticking it to god's face
laughing at half-dome
climbing it and getting the better of ourselves
Believing we have achieved bliss

When in reality,
there is nothing to this which we can reach.