Liquid memories
seeping.

Your voice, your smile,
weeping.

Thoughts like movies,
creeping.

Pains of heartache,
leaping.

Vanished, breathless,
unsleeping.

Reaper's hands--greedy,
keeping.

You can love an idea
With its dreams and intentions
Visualization
The beauty of its makeup
The intensity of its motive

But an idea doesn't comfort
An idea doesn't kiss
It doesn't prove things
Or make decisions

An idea is an option
An idea is an example
An idea is what you want and need, but doesn't make the effort

An animal is what I am,
with fangs that bite too deep.
Awake at night, and too possessed
to get a wink of sleep.

Amused by chasing freedom
from feeling what is real.
I would go to any length,
I'd make a Devil's deal.

Corrupted and conflicted,
until I find my friend.
He's killing me, and ripping me
apart from every end.

Smoke is curling up inside.
Noise is somewhat dull.
Silent moving pictures streaming
softly in my skull.

I think the ground is quaking.
My eyes are dry as sand.
The carpet feels like metal scraping flesh
upon my hands.

Shaking within cavities
I thought did not exist.
My temperature from cold to hot,
I'm fiending for the bliss.

I wish the things I felt right now
would wound me to my grave.
But fantasies of you inside my veins
is what I crave.

I've sobered up and looked
upon my arms, who seem to yearn.
A distant scream inside my heart
tells me I'll never learn.

A bag, a spoon, a spark, a *****
and now I'm turning blue.
Blue death inside my bones and skin,
an animal for you.

I'm living in a tiny box
With pin pricked holes around
I see the light reflect on skin
And hear most every sound

The walls -- opaquely vivid
I see all that is to be
But sometimes I only wish
I was a different me

A me that didn't have a box
A me that interacted
One who could live out loud and wild
One that's less distracted

One that didn't have restraints
Who filled her life with fun
Because living inside my box
Is dulling heat from sun

See, some can live without a box
Smiling through their skin
They dance and run under the sun
The world is but their kin

They go on great adventures
Capture potent smiles
Dance under the raining sky
And sing out loud for miles.

I'd like to say my box protects
From ultimate demise
But the things that worry me the most
Are the things that lie inside

Photographs are blurring.
The air in here is stirring.
The doors become alluring.
Sitting in solemn silence.

My pulse is ever fading.
The walls are now degrading.
In memories, I'm wading.
Walking in solemn silence.

I see them all speaking.
I see her mother shrieking.
I see their eyes are leaking.
Standing in solemn silence.

A rose. A path. A smile.
The only, for awhile.
Two steps could be a mile.
Looking in solemn silence.

Nineteen years was brief.
I wish I caught the thief.
In her veins, it found relief
In solemn silence.

Your aura
Is like the fog
underneath the blue sky
beckoning the ground
and settling peacefully, pure.
Thick and lustrous,
completing the world
with every part,
every breath of you.

The ropes are binding tightly around my skin,
If thoughts begin to permeate
the ropes loosen, and I begin to open.

I shudder at the thought,
as opening is too vulnerable,
too steadfast and irrevocable.

I can't breathe, can't speak, can't remember
who I am, who I was,
or how in the hell I got here..

The ones I knew moved away.
Now I'm left with silent shadows,
tears in dark and empty spaces.

This decision was mine,
made in strength, with fervor.
Now a masked force has taken hold.

I'm wounded beyond repair,
thoughts are unsettling,
without the slightest idea of my way home.

Alone.
What I wanted, what I feared,
what I need but can't fathom.

My ropes begin to feel comfortable,
helpful and welcoming.
I cannot let the truth escape.

Incessant thought.
Crowded, cold.
Inevitable but true.

Searching for,
looking, or
Tore because of you.

Raining worries
fly amongst
the fairies filled with lies.

Gaining ground,
Silent sound.
Your smile begs a rise.

The spoken word,
the needed truth,
succumbs to selfish ways.

Blindfolded will,
despite the thrill,
subconsciously count the days.

Insanity prevails.
Decisions like whales.
Slow, and not precise.

Let them eat cake,
laughter they bake,
I don't care for a slice.

Despite all the thought,
optimistic intentions,
I still color my heartstrings blue.

Confused by this feeling,
******* drug dealing.
Inevitable, but true.

I still can hear the drifting cars
and burnouts in my ears.

feels like it was just yesterday
where red lights lasted years

skies were full of rubber--smoked,
sun was cold and hot

a yesterday from months before
I couldn't have forgot

I feel your hand collapsing mine,
the jokes and many laughs

comradery amongst the rain,
perfume, cologne, race gas

I just had slipped up days before
and told you my heart fell

sun set and woke, so many jokes,
cars ran parallel.

a yesterday I won't forget,
you took my hands in yours

the sun hiding behind the clouds
few raindrops on our pores

while pistons move in cylinders
two cars line up somewhere

crankshafts like jacks in boxes,
and wind blows through our hair

you looked at me like time was lost
while friends sat watching speed

my heart beat faster than the
boosted car that I heard lead

surrounded by our favorite things
a few people that we knew

I saw a smile fill your eyes
when you said "I love you."

Crater filled with endless dust
Full of nothing, full of rust,
Never ending, but it must,
Deeper down and down.

Leaving grass too far behind,
Somewhere no one else can find,
The ones who crave loneliness pine,
for the remoteness of this place.

Why is it always dark?
Not a sun to set or the quickest spark?
Only lonely--a treeless park,
A grave for distant sunlight.

Making happy seem not right.
Celebrate a starless night.
In cherished darkness, the cold can bite,
in the depths of this caldera.

Maybe something happened there,
A distant fight, an unknown lair,
incomplete and crumbled--the pair.
And waiting for some sun.

But for now let's ignore this awful place,
And forget we ever saw a trace.
An unsolved mystery, a closed case.
We'll erase the crater who lies.

dear sly smile,

I want you to know something important.
You really did break my heart.
You didn’t mean to maybe.
You probably want nothing to do with knowing why or how.
It takes too much time.
It’s hard to think back to before.
You were only a friend with a hot body and a sly smile.
We joked and laughed and the tension talked louder than me.
You wanted my time.
I listened to all of your jokes.
I envy those times often.
You made me feel the way sunlight feels.
It sticks to warm skin and the wind can't penetrate it.
Surrounding everything in light and seeping into the darkest parts of us.

It’s hard to say I regret kissing you.
Kissing you was my favorite part.
You hated it.
You hated the way I’d bite your bottom lip because it was sensitive.
But everything about you to me was perfect for awhile.
Even your imperfections.
The smell of your deodorant mixed with YOUR smell.
You own 100 colognes and somehow all of them smell ****.
They would draw me in and strangle me with lust.
They'd make me feel caught - entangled in your spider web.
And I wanted to be there.
Wanted to feel you when I rolled over in the morning.
Wanted to listen to any of your 4 laughs that came out.
I’d always listen for the real one.
When I heard it, I was so happy.
To know you were genuinely happy in that moment.
You were just laughing.
And it was like a poison.

I fell for you unexpectedly.
We hadn’t slept.
You were saying some ******* about the stars and the pyramids.
You looked at me and buried your nose in my eye.
Ran your finger down my eyebrow.
It was those little moments that made me weak with you.
Those times when you felt free enough to tell me your thoughts.
Your stories.
Your weirdness was like Kryptonite.
I ******* loved it.
And I loved you.

People told me I was crazy.
They talked about you like you were a bad person.
I stood up for you.
I said you were a good man.
I loved you.

You never knew the value of your words.
You told me to bring the pictures from my house to your house.
You bought "us" a Keurig.
You told me our kids would be perfect.
You got serious  and offended when I laughed.

Then you'd say how unsure you were about us, but I loved you.

You landed from being deployed for 2 1/2 months.
I was drenched from rain and wind-whipped.
You gave your dog so much love.
You walked away from the crowd and your friends so fast.
You didn't so much as kiss my cheek, but I loved you.

I sent you snacks and candy and mini-cakes.
I sent notes that took days to write so as to not sound too clingy.
“They got thrown away after something spilled”, but I loved you.

I said "I'm proud of you" in a genuine way.
I gave a professional recommendation for you at our job.
You got promoted.
I loved you.

I told you about my ****** assault because you made me feel safe.
You said “a lot of girls had that happen”.
As if I was just another statistic.
But I LOVED YOU.

You told me you needed to be on your own.
You had other girls come stay with you.
You blocked me for no reason.
All I did was ignore a text and remain quiet to avoid conflict.
You act as if I’m the one playing games.
I'm the one causing tension.
But I have only given you exactly what you wanted.

Space.
Time “alone”.
Which to you means “single.”

I HATE MYSELF for still wearing your sweatpants sometimes.
For having an Air Force t-shirt of yours I forgot was in the laundry.
For keeping your house key on my key-chain just because.
For remembering the good parts of you.
For thinking of the time we made out in the shower.
Your fingers grasped my cheeks, neck, hips.
The water was dripping and the music playing.

I HATE MYSELF because despite all you've done I still love you.
I love your ******* smile.
The music you play.
Your dumb sense of humor.
All of your laughs.
Your cute *** dog.
The way you handle situations.

I HATE MYSELF because I can't delete the pictures.
I can't stop checking if you’ve unblocked me.
I can't get the thought of you kissing anyone else out of my head.
I can't think about her biting your lip.
Her washing the dishes.
Her eating soup with the spoons I bought as a joke.
Or her in another pair of your sweatpants at 2 AM.

I hate myself because
I’M STILL
*******
PROUD OF YOU.

I hate it.
You still have me and I hate it.
And you don’t have to try.
Not at all.
I picked myself up from being broken.
I stared at my wrists in the tub and chose life.
I didn't quit my job and give up and run.
I didn't delete the pictures.
I didn't tell everyone that you ruined me.

I hate myself because I'd be ready to fall apart again tomorrow if it meant you’d just apologize.

If it meant your lips on mine one more time.
And I hate it.
I hate that no matter how unsure you were I wasn’t.
No matter how much you hurt me, I thought you were perfect.
I didn’t look for problems.
I didn't look for imperfections.
I tried to always have solutions for everything.

YOU wanted malice.
YOU wanted confrontation.
YOU wanted to blame me for arguments.
But they were what YOU WANTED.

And despite EVERYTHING...

I still think about those pyramids.
Dancing in the kitchen and getting stopped by a kiss.
The way I held your fingers the night you left.
The way your whole face lights up when you smile.
The kisses you gave before you left when I was with you.
People-watching and laughing at the Chinese Buffet.
When you'd say “this is our 1st time [fill in the blank] together.”
All of your clothes I wore.
Racing to our job and running inside.
The music. All the music.
You fixing my Apple CarPlay and driving my car to your house.

None of them will go away.
These memories.
I hate that I want them to but I don't want them to.
I can't ******* decide.
And it hurts.
It really hurts everyday.
I hate that the sun on my skin doesn’t feel the same now.
It reminds me of why I hate you and I love you.
And I don’t want any of it.
But I do.
I want all of it.
All of you.
All the time.
And you don’t.
And that’s all.

sincerely,
the fool

Skies are hues of sullen smoke,
pavements glossed in rain;
falling softly, picturesque.
Where does the water drain?

Hands of many compromises,
eyes engulfed in pain.
Washing worries with off-brand soap.
Where does the water drain?

The daydreams, they are staring back
irises of shame,
that only scrutinize themselves.
Where does the water drain?

Tears are not expelling,
the force of strength; insane,
God swims inside them somewhere new,
Where does the water drain?

The only one who's ever seen
my soul beyond a windowpane.
A mist, a fall, a downpour,
but *Where does the water drain?

7 little mason jars
in a sequenced line
filled with 7 spices
displayed much like a shrine

I thought I'd have a use for them
to steep myself some tea,
yet they have remained stagnant
on this wall, they stare at me

one contains dried rosebuds
pink and red and pale
confined within a little jar
their fragrance growing stale

another holds some cardamom
and one is filled with cloves
slowly drying on this shelf,
labeled and enclosed

someone picked these rosebuds,
and dried all of these leaves
so they could sit within a jar
with nothing to achieve

tonight these 7 mason jars
all look at me, so somber
their families enjoyed a breeze,
had sun-soaked days to squander

they've not reached expiration
yet soon, they'll be disposed
no longer trapped in bottles
in death, they'll be exposed.

I miss that week in November...
The skies still smiled, blueberry.
Winds awake in silent upheaval
nights without windows of ice.

On a smaller mattress, we slept.
Close with no option to distance,
Days carried on without knowing
Time held us in its grasp.

There's awake or there's alive.
Both are people we know counting fingers
You awoke me with your kisses
You traced me with your eyes.

Deep beneath the skies of dark satin,
The night you may not remember.
I recall as if it were minutes
Between what was then and now.

2 am, your sweat, my whispers.
The feeling of never enough
our heat exchanging impulses.
Then your sudden hands on my cheeks.

Your lips my lips you kissed me
As if they were a sacred nectar
I could feel all the corners the crannies
Your heart that encompasses mine

Just an unsuspecting gesture
A silent and beautiful moment
How I miss that eve in November
When none else invaded our minds

Finding out who I am
is like searching
seeing,
hiding my eyes.
Never opening,
my soul.
Trying,
Needing someone
to save me.
And knowing,
finding,
that only I can.

You don't understand
When I'm sitting here
There are only so many posts
So many apps
So many pages in books
And marks on my shopping list
You're having fun, in the palm of your hands
A game in your face
While I sit here
Wondering
If you really care
If you'll ever show it
Be spontaneous
Ditch technology
And waiver the others
Who play with you for hours
But eat at their houses
Forget about you most of the day
And me, I'm here
Watching, waiting, wishing
That you'll look away
For awhile and see
My heart bleeding
In my hands
Wanting you to put it back
And kiss me for awhile....

There is a force occurring
underneath eyesight
when tides brush gently up the shore
underneath moonlight.

A force, intimidating;
but needed in this place.
Containing every being,
placing wrinkles on your face.

This force is only recognized
by word of gravity.
Something we cannot control,
and something we don't see.

Last night I sat and pondered,
what explains that energy.
The airborne dopamine
that we exchange--you and me.

When you're holding me so tight,
my lungs begin to tire,
but all I feel are spinning wheels;
explosions of desire.

When we're laying closer than
the world could see with open eyes,
You breathe me in, I drink you in,
your skin I idolize.

That feeling that the world could stop,
the forests--set ablaze
and I'd be wrapped in you,
sweat and yearning, in the haze.

The knowing that everything
is only temporary,
that happiness is possible,
and love: extraordinary.

I now know what to call it.
Not chemistry, not feels.
We create something beautiful,
our gravity is real.

I wish i could say that you are the only thought
in my mind
before
i sleep.

But your kisses are momentary
and your words mean nothing.

I wish he knew his eyes sting me and his words
in my mind
before
i sleep.

But his kisses are hers
and his words mean everything.

Its almost intimate
the way the stars shine on all of us.

We look up and capture their light
as it gazes down upon us and touches our face.

They twinkle, as if looking at us kindly.

We look at them,
white holes in a black page,
bright sparkles in the distance,
in an endless expanse

beaming,
with hope

and we remark on the beauty of their nature.

They promise that in the darkness - there will always be a light.

That no matter the expanse,
there is always something distant, compelling.

That in just the slightest fate, a human could survive.

Just far enough from them
to keep them warm.
To give them air.
To grow.

And only within the luckiest fates, do two souls stare up at them
with a similar face
with a similar hope
connecting.

Only the luckiest of fates
look up at those stars,
and feel something.

Only the luckiest of fates
will be looked down upon
by those stars
kindly.

I pictured them as an inner-network as a child.
A very large highway, connecting their energy to mine
and feeding off of it.

The highway has faded with age.
But I feel the gravity of it all.

And I have to come back to them,
to see them.

Not as a background, but as they really are.

Spirits of the good.
Holes in a black page.
And distant energies
that persuade me to believe
some fantasies could be real.

There is so much of you,
so little of me.
Feeling quite encumbered.
Your touch envelops my senses.
Eyes of fire, ignited.
I might be somewhere flying,
when your wings lie still--displaced.

Confusions of sudden fervor.
Listening, waiting, informing.
Nevers happen when cement dries.
Abrasions don't wash away.

I'm climbing up the traces.
The world's parade of faces.
Searching, never finding hope.
So much of you,
so little of me.

Your soft hands
on mine.

Your warm heart
in mine.

Your strong kiss
becoming mine.

It is your love,
not mine.

Although I haven't witnessed
Darfur's eyes run red.
Rivers full of skeletons,
and bodies torn and bled.

I've read about the pigment
of fearful hearts so lost.
A dreaded world within a world;
there are no lines to cross.

Money paid for power.
Power, bodies, bills.
The Janjaweed at noon,
are cleansing for their drills.

Washing down stern orders
with blood on unclean hands.
Babies and their mothers
decomposing in sand.

Weapons worn like diamonds.
Lust and **** colliding.
Torture becomes normalcy.
Living only hiding.

So long as Omar al-Bashir
sees families as roaches,
death is understated.
In greed, he people-poaches.

Pity is for damsels
parading in a tide
of much needed attention
with ego on the side.

To you, my friend
who listens, but fails to comprehend:
Those who live for nothing
are nothing in the end,

I ask you, pray for Sudanese
fed horrors for their lunch,
their bones becoming rubble,
under tires they will crunch.

She paints her brow with worries,
and combs her hair with fear.

The knapsack of strangers' troubles
is heavy, and sincere.

Her lips are curved and down,
awakened, but afraid.

Regret is growing in her garden,
Her bed is firmly made.

She tussles through her locks,
as if she dreams of laughter.

But love once lost is always lost,
her house is without rafters.

I’m navigating a field of dark something-ness
Sitting quiet in morning air

In these cavities where my soul perceives life, I seek a heightened energy

Laying hidden behind wrinkled skin
tucked tightly into two beds of compact tissue
in this moment they rest purposefully as if sitting behind window curtains

They serve a common purpose when prompted,
To identify objects in this limiting dimensional plane.

Some days when I come here, I wander aimlessly across battle-torn countries of thought
It is essential to let the river take them
Watching them pass as an observer instead of the instigator
Feeling the depth of their sting grow distant

Sinking deeply into the dimension where we live beyond bodies

Where I am a bee pollinating the flower
I am the bird calling out in a resounding plea
I am the wind pushing through bamboo forests

Until breath inhaling and collapsing my cadaver becomes less of a grounding cord
And the mat placed beneath with intention is no longer a chain to the ground

There is now no face to inhabit,
The world; a faint memory of molding

Here the wind isn’t quite invisible
Temperature is not affected by her power
Bearing colors, intentions and tranquility

I let her carry me up and away

Lend me your smile,
stay here awhile,
don't ever defile
this embrace.

Capture my kiss,
The world is amiss,
Sunsets of missing
your face.

Beauty inside,
your laughter a ride,
hands coincide,
Possessive, and rough.

Awestruck, but scared,
Pricked, but repaired
The needle, she cared
I wasn't enough.

Sick with stronghold,
a promise so bold
someday, we'd grow old,
without interruption.

The voice in my ear,
no words, no tears,
your fragrance--not here,
her final consumption.

Time wanderer,
Life ponders,
Love fonder
but lost.

Since your goodbye,
no alibi,
plagued by
mental holocaust.

I am sun and you are moon.
Caressing countlessly
Cranes and Starlings swoon
With love effortlessly.

I paint the daybreak flawless
with color sinking in
Moon is gathering the waves
while Mantas sink and swim.

You wrap yourself in darkness
with holes and craters deep,
Orbiting a world that has you
shackled at your feet.

I can see it spinning, with
everything it holds.
And I'm afraid that one dark day,
it might just steal your soul.

I can't control your presence
parading atmosphere,
And must not always worry
That the waves will disappear.

Nor reminisce on memories
so many "moons" ago,
That orbit other planets,
of which we'll never know.

And maybe all this warmth
inside my soul so bright,
is overtaking judgment
and misjudging moon at night.

The heat within me rising
might be unwarranted.
So I will just shine brighter
and make flowers bloom instead.

I feel assaulted,
*****,
when you intertwine our eyes
in long glances
of dark,
somber
nothings.

I'm smoking solid cancer.
Wind in an uproar. Enraged.
I vowed to never let anything push me.
I lied.
Eyes travel from branch to trunk.
Veins run up the bark and collide.
Solid forms of nature, far outlasting Her prime predator.
I'm convinced memories are incomprehensible.
How does it work?
I'm intrigued by an object of no relevance,
and suddenly you're smile confronts me.
Strange.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Unimportant reveries is what they seem.
One who thinks the world is black and white is colorblind.
Ignorant.
Standing here, on this plateau.
How many lives have walked across it?
Rust - like skids paint the ground where I stand.
Butts scattered and running into the grass.
Predator?
Of violent and malicious intent.

Cringes* I suppress.
Trapped in sullen mess.
Tangled and undressed.
I thought I wouldn't feel.

Gazing from the edge.
Slick and falling--the ledge.
Sinking further, they dredge.
Corroding me in mud.

Awake, but a ghost.
Transparent at the most.
Your game is but a host
to anything polite.

I learned, my friend.
At river's red and mucky end.
Lies are calling, backs must bend.
My heart's what hurt the most.

You travel like wildfire.
Trap all those who inquire
where you came from or what you desire.
You, *sire, are more lost than me.

Sea makes love to shore
mountains break the sky
but no one feels our heartbeat
electric--you and I

Fingertips and glances
deep into my soul
earthquakes of raw emotion
your being--makes me whole

You're like a spark of magic
that could vanish with the dew
fear lies somewhere in my heart
at the thought of losing you

The smile that you've created
has never been before
like undercurrents raging
and kissing softly on the shore

A love so true and obvious
a fever, overwhelming
hold me closer, hold me longer
your lips are quite compelling

But promise me my darling,
as I watch you hold my hand
don't listen to the sea
and argue with the sand

Drawing back and moving forth,
caress and then release
pretending life is perfect
renting love as if a lease

Lead me not to question,
lead me out to sea,
where birds and rainbows manifest,
all of you is all of me.

I used to see just shadows
painted on concrete.
Scared of seeing sun above;
With whom our forms compete.  

I thought that only shadows
surrounded me before.
Before you painted color
in sunlight, off the floor.

I walked around in trances
evaluating time.
Trying to move forward, empty,
walking a straight line,

Until I felt your fingertips,
Collapsed beneath your shade,
Inhaled the air escaping you,
And watched the daylight fade.

The shadows I believed in
Weren't shadows anymore.
They're pieces of a puzzle
Filled with life and dreams galore.

You show me there is more to this
Than working everyday.
There's moments, seconds, memories
I hope won't go away.

I hope our lips colliding
Will never be routine.
That we will never frown
When smelling racing gasoline.

I wish that late night thoughts
Continue to be said.
That every bit of stubbornness
Stays within your head.

I hope you'll never see the
Ink upon my skin as boring,
That no one else within this world
Will write you notes each morning.

You showed me shadows only are our
footprints on the ground.
You're the one. The only,
With whom my heart is bound.

While flipping sheets this morning
Dust flying in sunlight
Thinking on the reason why
I have these words to write

I stumbled on a sudden thought
Blowing past the rest
Making my arms tremble
And an aching in my chest

I thought of what would happen
If you were not here today
If the blankets were all folded
And the hoodies put away

If the house was never settled
And my closet was all clean
If you had never joked about
The off brand coffee cream

If I never did the dishes
And I'd never seen your eyes
If we were only strangers
walking under sullen skies

If I was still a loner
And you were still alone
The hate from others vanished
No pictures on our phones

If all of me was searching, still,
For every part of you
I would never understand
I would have never knew

As I situate the pillows
Run my fingers down the side
And picture every memory
I never want to hide

I'm thankful for our minutes
For the happiness I've seen
The bottle pressure issues
And the change still in your jeans

The hugs on colder mornings
When I just want you to stay
The beauty of sunflowers
On an unsuspecting day

I've never felt and never loved
Like this in life before
I want to do your dishes  
And pick clothes up off the floor

To make your lunch for work
Play cars with your cute boy
Make dinner for our friends
And put away the toys

Because you make life worth it
adventurous, insane
I'll ride with you and die with you
While sideways, in our lane  :)

That day I sat
naked and
                   alone
water collapsing upon my spine
acidic or compelling?
cradling what I thought was my hands
within themselves
and waiting for daylight to break me.
I was already broken

decrepit in fact.
caressing substance as supplement
the figurines of moving reality
plaguing consciousness
As     drips
                         drops
        fell
                     struck
My initiative was no longer to cleanse
or ease
but to forget,
God oblidge me
          please
ghosts of armies amidst armistices
raging with questioning calamity
every minute
every        second

It was easy
to hear and see it
placid           to act
as if gum on a shoe
was used and trashed
but stuck somewhere new
               disgusting

Meanwhile
this water
troublesome with cleanliness
corrodes my cadaver
(Cadaver, because it seems that way)
Blood runs with it
and overtakes the pigment
like color from the sponges
I’d used for the color the needle left
instead of creating

life in color
death in color
feeling in color
There were none

unnamed and buried
internal pieces of me
              Extracted
with simplicity
by mouth
and flushed
to not exist
               ever
to anyone
but deep in the realm, of conscience
hidden
and    drowning

A cool wind touching crevices
of your face, escaping
hot air and dodging quickly
as to not be caught by sun.

Your eyes gleaming deeper
than ocean waters
disguising life below them as thick,
uninhabited.  

White birds sink deep into sunsets,
seen from different windows,
all whispering the same words..
look at me and feel beauty

I can picture your hands,
cleaned, but stain imprinted
placed softly on my skin,
alone, with waves crashing.

Time is no constant.
There's only light and it's absence.
Your smile never fades away.
No envelopes with red writing.

I can hardly feel the fabric
worn loosely on my skin.
There's scattered sand upon it,
on sun-soaked salty bodies.

We're happily pacing
a shore of endless shells
laughing about stories
of work and other chores.

I want no one other
than your green eyes, blinding
to take me there, love me bare,
a shore with just our footsteps.

The chair is empty sitting there.
It stares at me with pity.

The chair is empty sitting there.
It seems so lost and sad.

The chair is empty sitting there.
Broken, twisted--cracked.

The chair is empty sitting there.
No one dares to sit.

The chair is empty sitting there.
Without it's old companion.

The chair is empty sitting there.
I stare at it for days.

Embrace me deep.
Feel my heat.
Listening, sweet.
Rough lips, come cheap.

Caress my soul.
Comprehend me whole.
Eyes in your control.
Just one of your sheep.

Think I'm a fool?
My mind under your rule.
Not malicious, not cruel.
But yet my heart will weep.

You came from foreign blood.
Alive in solid mud.
Observe me like wasted crud.
Yet, yearning lives inside.

Pathetic. Not atoned.
Your hands persuaded and condoned.
Now I'm left for dead, alone.
Somehow I understand your thrill ride.

It hurts.. to watch you slowly fade away
I used to smile when skies were gray.
It seems so long ago.

It hurts.. that I'm not your first thought.
That you're used to what you've got.
It's all become a show.

It hurts.. every time you promise me
Things will change and I will see.
But it all stays vaguely numb.

It hurts.. to be sitting here in pain.
Not wanting to be blamed.
My feelings have succumbed.

It hurts.. that you can fall asleep so fast.
With your head held in your grasp.
I'm awake and you don't care.

It hurts.. to want it all to go away.
But my heart wants me to stay.
As my tears fall in my hair.

It hurts.. as I'm dying in my mind.
All I wanted was your time.
But that's too much a price.

It hurts.. that tomorrow I'll be strong.
And you'll still ask me what's wrong.
But my words will not suffice.

The walls are a cool custard
I picked a movie to lull my conscious
Even so I'm in a trance
Recalling your fingers...

Tracing me, fluidly
While a fan sputters, flying
Currents of electric smiles
Running from body to brain  

And softness, so perfect
Whispers, with longing
Hold me, caressing softly
Eyes in mine, swimming

Only memories, I'm dreaming
Without sleep, in need of holding
To miss does not suffice
The fan sings loud tonight

You're sleeping somewhere soundly
Three hours, a short distance
Two days, only seconds
Upon the larger scale

But walls of caramel custard
Are draining me completely
Come home to me, my darling
Your eyes are what I seek

He waits for nothing
trapped inside vendettas of the past.

To compensate for all the pain.
Collapsed by storms, aghast.

Mouthing words into the plated
metal microphone.

Omniscient spy who gawks upon
his wretched monotones.

Patient Dr. Jekyll sits still
with longing looks.

While Heyde is toying endlessly
amongst his fellow crooks.

If only neither played a part,
and both were but a dream,

No plague of silent conflict
would crowd his every seam.

Within the realm of tragedy,
is where his soul endures.

Ty; intrinsic predator
searching for a cure.

And as his restless measures
of feelings coincide,

and harmonies escape his lungs
while beats start to collide,

The distant Dr. Jekyll protrudes
from vacant sleep.

Commences to erode a quiet
conscience, from the deep.

Sudden need for elsewhere
is all that Ty can see.

Every fiber recognizes
where he needs to be.

And suddenly the microphone,
who knows his every pain

is sitting lonely,
mesmerized
by silent noise again.

Ty is but a victim, sullen thoughts
that make him sick.

Never can he compromise,
when all his habits stick.

Forever now ambivalent,
confused and losing time.

Ty knots his laces,
bats his tears,
a façade: pressed and fine.

Ty's dreams are crushed,
disintegrate into the offshore sand.

When all at once he notices,
his life is in his hands.

A straw that Jekyll used before
is laying on the ground.

Heyde is shaking shamefully,
but cannot make a sound.

Ty looks upon the dreams he crushed
and searches for his will

its lined up right in front of him,
dispassion in a pill.

Hands of rugged mysteries
typing letters    fast
counting down the minutes
time is standing still
  creating distant fantasies
within a neverland
knowing I will not fulfill
dreams and wishes   true

money spent
buying smiles
approval, but demise
for paper only melts in fire
souls go somewhere else

what is worth
effort
daily
for only
bones will
endure

confusion overcomes me
I'm at a loss
tossing money
wasting life
sitting in this cube
typing