is it satisfaction?
is it ethereal?
is it worth it?
is it lasting?
is it filling?
is it love?
is it her?
is it?

how can i be sure?
how can i know?
how can i?

am i always dissatisfied?
am i alway despaired?
am i always fallen?
am i always?

we all have the same disease.
we all have the same death.
we all have the same holes.
we all have the same.

is love its provider?
is love its vaccine?
is love its?

time will tell,
just need a little faith.

liturgical language of wind whispers in the pines.
the sky filled with the pearly puffs of Her word.
the hymnal call of the mountains.
angles rise from the depths of lakes.
the taps of rain on the ground proclaim the Almighty.
cavernous churches entombed within the minerals
of Her love.
upon Her watery canvas She paints portraits
of Her ardent, blue dreams of eyes, and erases them
with each passing kernel of time
repainting them just as fast.
paradise.
pinnacle of unselfish endeavors.
untainted beauty encapsulated in Her smile
She is good; She is infinite; She is yes.
my only escape,
ever-faithful,
unchanging beauty.
all is held within the womb of Nature,
waiting for birthing death into the ethereal.
thank god for Nature.

surrounding forlorn sun-cursed flora
pulled by the teary eyed sky;
stars tantalizing them from on high
  with promises of a heavenly aura.

never satisfied with their strata,
always pushing against their time
until the death-bell for them chimes
  and they wither to kernels of data.

encouraging drops sent to their aid
from their lake and river neighbors;
within the dirt, they do their labor
  and at their end, to the dirt they fade.

we are but flowers in a grassy field,
reaching for the suns radiant hand, and
like the flowers strewn in "our" lonely land
   to the omnipotent dirt we shall always yield.

heated flavors and
icy noises, up in the
high strata with
a singed mind of
transcendent swallowed thoughts
your molting feathers
fall down to the cobble stones
proclaiming the words
of your mind
up in this planetarium of
a passing breeze
you replace the stars
with gleaming clumps
of barb wire and broken wings
that rattle through the night
screeching frequencies
of your lost-in-precipitation mind
you see the dreams
of the masses
devoured by green,
which clash with
the medley of floral souls
within your grey matter
you breathe out a brink-filled
sigh of infinite--
all those emotional droplets
in that spiderweb mind.
perhaps one day
they will see with your eyes
or even the eyes of your eyes
but for now you are stuck
shouting at them to love
a love greater than that of Lady Black herself
but their ears are stopped up
with the spoon-fed lies of how
to live and they settle for
contentment, and not
passion

the ultimate.
all and nothing simultaneously.
your pupils dilate when you see
her lovely figure on the inside of your skull.
she tantalizes your mind in the night.
with the little nibbles of her peace,
that serenade your transcendent taste buds.
those insomniacs who died a little within
wear it upon their skin as an
upside down flag and wait for her
calming breath on the back
of their goose pimpled necks.
when you breathe your final plea for her,
she comes to collect
that which she owns.
that's why we wear her
at funerals as a reminder
of the soul magpie
and the warbler who sings us
melodious songs of infinite tranquility.

i dare look into eyes,
into even those of glass.
i fear my soul whimpers
in the glimpse of a second.
iris: beauty taken
in from the soul;
it's full of suspended wonder.
i can't resist the pull
in those floral colors
ivy green, sky blue, dirt brown, midnight black.
infinite
itself.
i see every word,
in the white,
innumerable thought
in the black.
is reality captured in those sullen globes?
i may never know.