this is all I can do to stop the words
the anticipation of something great
      or disappointing
I hope the former

my stomach is a pit
that deepens with each  l  o  o  s  e  breath
diaphragm creates space for love
and pain
unsure of which will last longer

I cannot see your face
but I can picture your desire
it is mirrored in my eyes
clears a home in my mouth
though unspoken

I want to part your lips and slip you a secret
   I want you more than my form can hold

can we melt together
is this too much to ask for the first time
if so              I can stop the words
   (their expression, at least
not their existence)

I been drifting round for lifetimes
seeking found on shores unknown
weeds a'tangle, castles tower
all I want is to lie down

They say nature is our mother
moon a clock of ever change
try so hard to never waiver
steady tides wash in so blue

Rush and crash, break and swell
may be time to set new sails
rest on winds call it adventure
wake on dust not mine to claim

Sun a beam of hope unlost
do it all without a cause
found a lotus in the blinding
cresting waves ignore the fall

Rush and crash, break and swell
may be time to set new sails
rest on winds call it adventure
wake on dust not mine to claim

they come a penny a dozen
cheap
           copper
                        thoughts
there's a well full                                             ...somewhere...
but no one is thirsty for water anymore
so much Ciroc and Moscato
poppin' bottles and *****
poppin caps and pills
we've subbed out dreams for quick thrills
   eyes open or closed - I'm swimming
but no copper in my goals
I want gold  platinum        DIAMONDS
pay me well and I will sell you my well
full of watered down birthday cake
and wrinkled candles
those flames were blown out with childhood

today is yesterday's hope
    but tomorrow
           tomorrow holds everything the past
hasn't seen

an oracle says omens
                                      are constantly presenting
if you just look
                             or listen

I've been looking all my life
and the message is clear
        tomorrow
        tomorrow will be my day
as soon as the clock strikes 13
                    it's my time

mom says safety and security are key
teacher says Maslow's hierarchy agrees
boss says money supplies all my needs
and I listen

I've been listening all my life
and the message is clear
job, girlfriend and car secured
renting but my space is home
owe 31,000 in student loans
but that degree, I own

fact check anyone with a fatter check
knowledge is an expensive throne

eyes seek out beauty
and find it everywhere
   lust is appreciation of form
I was never taught attraction
                                  it pulls nonetheless
    tugs at my urges
       ecstasy touch
   my body is a drug
                           to be indulged

my body calls to me
from all its centers of pleasure
my hand is an activator
of everything right
when I erupt
    the sacral rejoices
the world becomes a cloud
                                  a soft landing
somewhere to hold my highs in reverence

pleasure
I am so pleased to meet you
                                                  again
     ­                                                        & again
                                                           ­                & again

an odd pairing can age well
                  with the right conditions

Challah and Feta
Roti and Mozzarella
every dry bread has its own sour cheese

compliments to the flour
    that rose to the occasion
                        to the curd
    that ripened into a match
the loving all started with respect
respect
because pallets don’t have to be the same
to be appreciated
sometimes opposites attract
  and it’s the perfect blend
               of talker and listener
               of traveler and homebody
               of brain and heart

sweet and savory
is a combo for the ages
so why not Sourdough and Swiss
               or a NYC Bagel and Gouda
when there are equal parts trust
there is no limit to the love
   says 2 successful careers
      says 3 grown kids
         says 50 years of marriage
the secret
is never going to bed angry
with each other
  is knowing when you’re wrong
  and admitting it                      (just a lil my bad)
    is keeping god in the family
    and the family in god
      so even when life curdles
        it is just a reshaping
          and not a crumbling

an odd pairing can age well
with the right conditions
     50 years later
and here we are toasting
  to an endless love
                  to the perfect bun and cheese
                        Happy Anniversary!!

he met his mortality with trembling limbs
    and gnashing words
            fiercely independent
    and clutching at every loose strand
nothing was in his control

he cursed life and death
  in the same breath
because opportunity had never proven itself
         to him
and so he asked more of time

     demanded it
to bribe regret away
he lived a life unlived
but this was invisible to him
                                                   until the end

it all lay behind him now
flatlands and an apathetic sky

when abolish the police gets a platform at the open mic…

a suggestion turns into dialogue
                  into a debate
                                                 into shouts
                and chaos reforms into huddles

anarchy claims the analog   —   BLARING
              (all of this in mere seconds)

the notes are discord to the ear
                   but joy to the heart

the revolution will not be televised
but it will be projected
                    in the underbelly of some open mic

"Always we begin again." ~ St. Benedict

zero is the loneliest number
because it's empty
   -a hole for filling
but if you change your perspective
       the bottom can be the top

the first sign of growth
                      was a hair
     nothing impressive
    just a single strand
   breaking the surface
  in search of freedom
but that didn't stand for long

isolation gave way to conformity
as the grades came
    hair after hair
clumps         communities         culture
strands bowing under brush
parting        under        comb
hair can be tamed like anything else
duress, product and consistency
             wash   rinse   repeat
duress, product and consistency

never was one for riding waves
waved goodbye to that trend long ago
                                                             ­         grew past it
and figured nature knew best
knew how to sprout and flourish on its own
if left unattended

a bush was a phase                                             until it wasn't
shaved down to a surface
                                                     -fla­t-
something to sit atop and add flair
still couldn't much care
   guess I was a factor
but there was still no product

then society issued a dare
I double, triple dog dare you...
                                                          ­to be
and that was the impetus
because I have always been
  regardless of form
hair shed singularity
         knotted to bond
    condensed into a twist
          that bound memory and experience
                               into a journey of self-exploration

and I suppose the true journey started
long before I remember
  but palm rolls have traced lines to their origin
  roots below the surface recognized
  and left to their own design
twisters locked in dust   lent   dandruff
                         and core
all misjudged together
      how long can you go without censoring yourself?

I grew and grew and was and am and will be
         for 6 years 5 months and 18 days
         I was locked and loaded for self
zero was lifetimes ago
         ages prior to confidence
the mane does not make the lion
      but it certainly helps
I took a pilgrimage within a pilgrimage
made a metta meditation of movement
   before I knew love's true touch
                                                          a­nd then
            when head needed it the most
                                                            ­                                dread vanished
and made way for a universe

of all the memories created to forget
                 touch is the most lasting
the scalp is still anointed
from oil years past
                                                            ­   when scissors did meet
life shook with a force renewed
  and shed bare all that was needed

I was born with nothing
now ???  years ?? months and ? days later
I am yet again at zero
  but now, I know
it's not on me
                           it's in me

books reduce
                       TITANS to men
          turn mountains into hills skipped over
in seconds
look what man has made of God
a jealous judgmental father
        with a brooding brow

history has taken the legend out of myth
check Atlas
          all the heavens rounded down into
          a boulder
          small enough for shoulder blades
                   stars condensed into marble
                   light enough for man's chiseled hands

we are not here to hold up the world
that's just a lie circulating the globe
we are on this earth to hold up stardust

open palms release
rivers of clenched fists

face them upward

the sky rains down more than you need
   alms for wounds
   levity for burdens

I been wandering aimless
and peeping the synchronicities
I been reading other's words
and deciphering my truth
I been tutoring the youth
and learning from their mentorship
I been slinking out               [of relation-ships]
and treading in myself
I been sitting in silence
and feeling through the noise
I been abstaining from my vices
but creating new distractions
                                                    ­  I been making new playlists
                                                      a­nd blending the genres
                                                      I been triple checking accounts
                                                      an­d noting the trends
                                                      I been avoiding top priorities
                                                      ­and focusing on side quests
                                                      I been writing off the future
but deepening in the now
I been sharing the best of me
while keeping solitude with my shadows
I been becoming my higher self
day by
              day
                      by day
curating a person I can be proud of
                                                              ­ /proud for
I been
and will be

the kitchen table is set
     is perpetually set
with glued on utensils and fine China
bowls poured into with empty calories
and                    emptier words
we are accustomed to paper plates
and one off exchanges
        to using things and
          throwing them away

i smoked that ego down like a pack
it's still fuming
fumigating the room
clearing out space
coughing out lungs

can you see through the fog of your own *******

your hair is on fire
can you even smell yourself
     small talk and *******
will tomorrow remember tonight
        it's all for a story right?
  but can you connect the next line

her voicemail asks my favorite *** position
caller #9 ~ maybe we'll get lucky next time
life of the party
dying to be the story
  that no one can forget

ego is a roach
trampled by music

we bite off more than we can chew
                   gluttonous

nibbling on half truths
                               we’ve been fed
                                                  our whole lives

un.di.gest.ed thoughts are regurgitated
     in piecemeal

pass this down for me

we are more than we’ve ever imagined
stop plating the unpalatable
              and asking for seconds
throw that **** out
                                    it’s stale

again
always we begin
the zenith
becomes a zero
a hill becomes
a mountain
ascent is a gradual unbecoming
I am nothing
again
always we begin

I found a portal in a dream
Slipped into a slit
Then came so fast
i lost track of singularity

queer things deserve to be happy too

    tangentially

earth has swallowed me again
existence is so intimate
especially under the physical
i feel love in its many forms
a waterless stream flowing
      through me
                                   around me
soil is mother and sister
           brother and father
community consumes
                      like a hug
              also
        like a burial
in resting
                i almost heard my name
                  was almost quiet enough
                                       still enough
                                       present enough

oh   to be infinite           and            self-contained

i question the hierarchy of numbers
the triviality of zero
i have regressed to home base          again
does comfort know I have expanded
  ego is a shed skin
  recycled with fallen leaves
  before i die
                      make compost of me
let my love nourish
                                  that which isn’t yet
queer things deserve to be happy too

    tangentially

i am gay with life
death lurks
an imminent transition
i have zero to offer it
the trees are still counting up

dark rooms and lit paths
sound bathing in the ether/
took a few C notes
for me to recognize the leader/
transpose a new crown
without need for a feature/
the man in the mirror ain't lost
he just a seeker/
secret- what always was
will always be/
kami knows the infinite flow
of inner ki/
energy never dies
just recycles like the rain in the sky/
reduced views get reused
in a cycle of tries/
try try try
try try fail/
took a couple iterations
for the lost to prevail/
exhales and deep sighs
I was numbing my feels/
in clouds of **** smoke
I was blind to the fields/
of opportunity
blessings and deep roots of unity/
singular in motion but narrow-minded
my view could see/
destination
but not the alternate routes/
on a mission for success
I was chasing the clout/
side quest- ion
is a life well spent if you never save/
if you hustle
and grind bones until your dying days/
the grave swallows all time
with an infinite hunger/
crunch seconds into moments
that exist without numbers/

it's crunch time
yea it's time to chew out fear/
it's crunch time
how much change can come in a year/
it's crunch time
how do swallows fly so free/
digest notes
reproduce a whole symphony

the journey is recursive
took this road many-a-times
more rerun than detour
forgotten lessons faded on aluminum
                             etch harder next time
hard hitting truths don’t even hit anymore
memory is false knowledge                             unreliable
instead follow the dreams
they have plotted the path
  in stardust
                        and
                            ­     astral projections
those are big constellations to fill
i walk bare sole now
so why are my steps still timid?

in a final flash the grand eye closed

more than a sunset
this was a culmination
    of an era
        the expiration of an epoch
           the ultimate reckoning
                                                     of slow karma
           it could've all ended so violently
           justifiably
but this end was a
  streak of lightening
   ---thin and illuminating
      here     then   not

man grimaced at reconciliation
beyond his means and outside of
his favor
  in the brain the end is much simpler
       a hurricane with no center
         an eye with no pupil
       a tragedy the size of a heart

the grand eye will open again
    even if we aren't sighted
small magicians raise their eyebrows
at science above their understanding