morning skys

here i sit
cigarette in hand
best friend across from me
and my brain going a million miles an hour

she’s great, my friend
she always listens, and not the kind of listen that most people would lend you
but the kind that lets you know she’s really in it
she retains and recalls details

see this is so important to me because I ALSO do that
not to mention the very hint of someone not fully engaging with me sends razor blades down my spine
it causes some secret trap door in my stomach to swing open full force and empty the tiny bit of courage i had to speak in the first place

but she’s so good at making me feel heard
she truly cares about the opinions i have to offer, however many billions of them there may be
and she gets interested in my ideas so much that we began to create them together
and did i mention that this chick realllllly digs with whatever i have to say, regardless of how fast my words may be spilling, or the frequent pauses to hit the blunt

i once told her that our friendship may not last due to my borderline personality disorder, but she was always going to be a soulmate of mine due to our spiritual connection
and she spent the next two weeks researching the illness
no one has ever shown so much care for me
so much interest
such understanding

i’m laying down now
my cigarette is done
my best friend is still here
and that’s all i could ever ask for

When I was lost,
Grace found me.
I was in grave danger,
Grace secured me.
Had nothing to eat,
Grace provided for me.
Had no one to wipe my tears,
Grace comforted me.
When I was alone,
Grace was there for me;
Grace befriended me;
Grace was in me;
Grace was on me;
Grace surrounded me.

When I wanted to give up,
Grace saved me.
When I wanted to let go,
Grace held me;
Jesus held me.

For the thought of your dreams my mind races
Mad dashs ,shocked faces
But to stare that glint by starlight drapped the caresses of your hair
I trip to find me on your line
Oh right beautiful fields ,waisted time
Your waist on mine
Just a taste , said at nine
we set pace after that line
..

Picture frames on baby's painted nails
Paint me in fame, she replied your insane
Washed face paint dowm drain ,she never kisses again
Her company other then other men is my brother then i move this pen
Words are zen , cherry flavored summer flows
Grass blues and sky growth
Twisted pages on saturn sing burns and we take turns on the wave frank ocean plays

the bed is nestled in disarray puffed and creased and folded
all off kilter mattresses scratched up air pad
nightstand bruised by rings of white where water collected
laptop pushing yellow light weakly through the red currant smoke
its warm and inviting your face is tingling and a soft smile lurks.

the trip and walking in the storm

          in the rain neither wet nor dry
              
               skin neither hot nor cold but feeling

                    something smooth and searing pushing on the brain

               fierce winds and acute awareness

          a new phase an evolution a transformation
    
     it flings you up but pulls you down

to that sleepy groove in the shade.

dead leaves on the windowsill and the silhouette of leaves
cast on the fading white wood and the wind
***** the torn up mesh a broken insect screen slashed up
stuck with my head in the blur and the sizzling haze
there's still sound in the skies.

spoiled milk and wilted flowers dried up like tobacco
and all the air musty the litter and entropy of it pulls at your
attention. roaches and moths and junebugs tapping against
the glass or skittering
across your floor, climbing up the walls and into a corner
eyeing me probing the air with its antennae.
oil caked on the glass thoughts in my head
spurting red broken bones and shredded muscle
deliciously sinewy.

flush it down. inhale and head rush legs weak smile written across my face as my mind
recoils in terror and confusion
the world waves and warms. it shines.

nag champa blackwood currents and shisha
oily anticipation. just a few hours now and there will be reprieve
i can go back and heal from this confusing binge.

skies are blue. helicopters hover their way over the city and suburbs.
the tower spins its light. floating and warmed I wander back home.

the dreams might be hellish
sleep might not come at all
the time it takes to readjust is staggering.
yellows shades and water and lots of **.

now to disappear completely. leave the damage.
not a trace of yourself though.
run a massive burn
and then escape unnoticed.
sayonara.

black and fuzzy and walking through a vivid nightmare of things moved around and skewed. rushing and a sharp zephyr that grazes your skin and rustles your hair. its incredible. there is bright light. burning my retinas and pushing on my brain.

i walked around again last night. pulsing in the temples and sniffing e+++rs or whatever you call them now. the urge to binge boils in the pit of my stomach.

infinite visions of infinite timelines of infinite versions of me and myself and everyone around me. my bougainvillea froze and slowly obliterated my memory. the page turns and the blur comes to wipe out the color from my eyes, shut now, fractals danced and the phosphenes came. then stuttering im coming out of it. what?

is this? what is this? another shallow poem that considers itself? low art on the internet begging to go viral? an avant garde approach at a genre begging for something new? just a puff of smoke?

the yellow is nice it takes the sterility of my surroundings the color of it all drained and depleted. at night I choose the sterility and let the colors sharpen and blast.

the smell of earth. that dirt and wind smell from the rain and the loamy soil. the imagery and lucidity glows in the background. feeding on my periphery. come and whisper with me.