When morning comes
I want to see you next to me
I want to watch the whispers of dawn
As they wave away the night sky
The semblance of hope as the sun rises
Your arms around my waist
In a kind embrace
Portraying the artistry of illusion
But illusion works
The pseudo nemesis
The fracture of earth
Faults rubbing against each other
Earthquakes that construct

When morning comes
I want to see you next to me
I want to watch your first smile
As they wave away night's pain
Your legs around my ankles
The hair on my skin rises
Attracted ions of energy
Depicting our chemistry
Formulas that can't be written
In equations and laws
Newton's laws disavowed
And Einstein weeps
My science is you
And you are my Armageddon
The end of everything I've striven to achieve

But when morning comes
Will my past hours dictate
Your existence?
Will my soul fall into harmony
With your sensuality?
Morning inevitably comes
And I am never ready.

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is.
When the touch of my fingertips
glance your decadent lips.
It urges within me an impatient surge.
The ardent flower that blooms at night,
under stars that shine harder to breathe the seductive aroma.
The galaxy shrinks, as to ensure its reach within the celestial skies,
forgetting their physics.

But if you dismember the limbs with which my love feels,
my love will retract within itself, like the turtle fearing the chaos outside its shell.
And if you deny me the reciprocity of my heart's most passionate story.
I will close the chapter and publish as is.

Yet, in my winter's tale, as frozen tears of sky lament their cause,
I shall give comfort from my fires.
Warming each breath of wind, as they gasp for substance.
My atmosphere will be enriched from my most enlightened flame.
And your ice will become my neccesity, a most welcome oasis in the desert.

But if you fuel my flame, if my desires entwine with yours, spiraling with themselves intuitively,
the wildfires would capture intensity in its most primal form.
My love becomes a slave to your divinity, a temple to your goddess,
wading through blasphemy, accomplishing rapture.

I give up
Not from the essences that overpower me
But through the power of my essence
The closeness of my distance
At arm's length but with the touch of my fingertips
Celebrating the wake
Lamenting the birth
Bittersweetness
Lingering odors of love
Shimmering darkness through poignant light
Songs of terror
Howls of joy
I give up
Not from the whispers of the night
But with the deafening of silence
As I jump through those hoops
Your disappointed stare
My blissful ignorance
I struggle against your expectations
But no more
My peace is my own
And I own it fully
No more will I try for you
I will not try to live down to your lofty descent
I reside on my mountaintop
My fortress of solitude
I scowl derisively at the rest of you
I cannot be saved
So give it up.

To know who I am
is to dive into the chasms
of contradiction,
the dark myriad of hollowed depths
wrapping you in a pall of wretchedness.

Fires burn and rain slices;
little knives of unintended intentions,
howls of agony and triumph, as one.

Discernment, lost in disarray,
a slow wave of dread,
washes bright beaches of jubilation;
an aesthetic diamond, yet flawed.

Clouds of sun and suns of clouds,
no shade from the heat.
Branches from trees whip,
as Mother Nature scolds her rebellious son.
He must be made an example of.

Yet gaze upon him!

How hurricanes bellow within!

Yet, peace resides as his countenance,
a squatter not to be disturbed.
He wears the dull stare
of him who dares not deign
to show himself to others.
He prefers to remain in the dark,
and darkness is his home.

Hidden, like the starry sky
behind a wall of clouds.
But, perhaps, in varied spaces,
it would be fortuitous
to glance on the constellations
as they breach the forts of night.

Few and far between
are his manifestations of emotion,
like peace on our downtrodden earth.
Imperceptible, like God's presence to a sinner;
unavoidable, like temptation to a saint;
unable to be ignored,
yet blissful in ignorance;
eyes that never make a home,
yet inviting to all guests;
ears that never listen,
yet decipher all unspoken words;
heart that is permanently broken,
but with carved pieces in cages distributed to all;
a stomach that's never full,
yet never starves;
a mouth that speaks in common tongues,
with his song only heard by uncommon trust;
a full hand of friends,
but a whole universe of enemies,
separated by manmade canyons.

Who is he?

One that acts without thinking,
but thinking is his only act..
One that gives without having,
but gives all he has.
One that gladly bears your cross
while shouldering his own.
One that lives to make an impact
yet vanishes without a trace.

I am what I've always been.

The silent struggle behind the scenes;
the little glimmer beyond the veil;
the one that chooses to feel nothing,
only because, separately and all at once,
I feel everything.

my most common pain;
the tear in eye;
when I get overtaken by emotions;
I can't describe;
everything seems so far off;
the peace of mind so slovenly cast;
the ire of self;
the music of my soul;
overwhelms everything else;
the clash of instruments;
symbols of my thoughts;
the large bonfire of passion;
that can't be tamed;
the love I feel for my breeze;
that can never be fulfilled;
the loneliness;
but...like with all things;
endings create new beginnings;
but I feel like;
I end everyday;
and the line is so blurred;
between start and finish;
a tidal wave;
no footprints left in the sand;
no footsteps to follow;
just a common cause;
and an uncommon burden;
no order in the misery of life;
no substance;
I want to wrap you in the shelter of my soul;
it aches for you;
a storm brews;
and lightning strikes;
with no sound of thunder;
a whirlwind;
the fury of gusts;
as dirt and sand and debris;
circle us, taunting;
demanding to be allowed;
to whisk us away;
with no restraints;
no direction;
just the splitting cuts;
of micro origins of glass;
rain;
to wash us clean;
the fear is, no matter how long I try;
this will never be complete;
no matter how strongly I feel;
I will never be able to put it to you;
fully;
so there's the issue my love;
I only want you to know;
that I have to try;
to embrace the chaos.

If I could, I would make my words
Notes of music that purr
A beautiful song is within me
Struggling to claw out
Struggling to make itself heard
Struggling to breathe its miracle
On my life
To clean it out as in spring
To give it the fresh start it needs
If I could, the notes would envelop
You, and cover you infinitely
In a perpetual wrap
An effective dressing upon a wound
That needs to be healed
If I could only give words to my meaning
And no more giving meaning to words
Such a backwards way to express one’s self
Cause I already know how I feel
The struggle is to make you feel it too
In the purest form, without sacrificing your senses
I want you to know the music of my soul
The xylophonic beat, the thundering percussion
Then I want you to know the emotion behind it
The battle between peace of mind
And storm of spirit
An everlasting war rages on
But instead of the death it implies
It’s an existence I can’t describe
And the artistry of my music
Isn't that it’s complete or finished
But that it’s an ever evolving work
That the journey will always be
More satisfying than the end

clearer than the brightest day,
sharper than the handiest blade,
the thought of you swallows me whole,
to see the beauty of all the world,
manifested in your awesome gaze,
but with a hint of cloud,
not to keep me out,
but to keep me wanting more...

The rapture brings chaos to us all
While the indiscriminate winds stagger
As though drunk with the songs of the world
But look at the man below us
With his back burned and braised
Like a piece of meat cooking over open flames
A chain links around his neck
The knees shake like the loose buckle
The foreman whips while the master chuckles
But…the fields are harsh, and nature is cruel
A world at peace brings pain on us
The price is high and the cost is steep
Yet…no drinks of water for the thirsty soul
He’ll be dead before the end of night
But…like a phoenix rising from the ashes
Resurrection of Christ-like entities
Stone-walled faces of contempt
This is the life they made him live
This is the puddle of blood that came from him
But history doesn’t remember the man
History remembers the institution
So as to not give glory to the individual
But to give praise to the larger existence
Yes we are weak in the shrouded story
We are weak in the uncertain aims
We are weak in temporary pleasures
But I cannot be weak today
My vague life and clouded soul
Are a glimpse of what I could be
If I fail
But if I succeed, I will earn your love
And God will love me again
As he loved him with the braised back
All I have to do is turn around
Glance over my shoulder
And see myself for what I am
A man who is a slave to his desires
No control no discipline
The chain link around my neck
my knees shake like a loose buckle
As the foreman whips and the master chuckles
my burned and braised back
Instant gratification, instant pleasure
For a lifetime of servitude to my basest of sins
I have been dominated.

in my darkest hour
thoughts, though random, sense made
the brooding man sleeps alone
no shelter from the cold of wind
what spurs me on
I have walked aimlessly for months
compounded on one another like interest
turning into lifetimes of worthlessness
stock to be sold immediately
harvest to be burned instantaneously
love to be buried as though it never existed
at times I find myself in lonely places
in the midst of a crowd
surrounded by friends and family
I tune them out
but in so doing, I tune out myself
my father once told me
the greatest thing I could accomplish in life
was the sowing of my oats
I have no desire to do such a thing
instead, I desire to further explore
the limits of my solitude
to bask in it
to owe no one, to have no debts
to save my feelings in the bank of me
and let the interest compound
at times I find myself in lonely places
at a stadium or a concert
surrounded by strangers
yelling and thrashing about
they don't know, but I've caught a glimpse
of their very soul
at that moment, precise and to the point
I know who they are
but I will never yell or thrash about
regardless of a win or loss
or pure enjoyment or disdain from performance
I thrive in the land of forced mystery
a slave to the carcass of who I was meant to be
one night though, cold in September,
I recall a realization that haunts me to this day
that I have no roots anywhere
I am a floating vessel in a very large sea
days before my Great Depression
weeks before my Great Crisis
I will cash out
and leave everyone behind.

Let me be honest
The thought of you knowing me scares me
It sends shivers down my spine
My breath quivers and shakes
As I gasp and grasp
I have not been worthy
To look upon my angel's face
The auburn aura of your hair
A saint's halo
Though punished I am
Though incomplete I am
Let me be honest
I thrive for the yearning
The yearning I have for you
Hoping to never reach you
I fear satisfaction
For my goal is not to reach my goal
But my aim is to enjoy the journey
To enjoy the anticipation
Of your touch
Let me be honest
The best moments are such
The air between our lips before a kiss
The static presence of our energies
Right before they intertwine
In unending passion
Let me be honest
I've been burned before
So I just want to feel the heat
And not the fire
And this is why
I have not set hammer to nail
I don't want to destroy what I have now
I don't want it to change
All I want is to peer deep in your eyes
To feel your smile
To know that you know how much I want you
To experience the sensation of need
To understand my yearn
To be engulfed in the heat of desire
But let me be honest
I don't want to burn.

that resplendent note;
sanctifying my heart;
little droplets of salted tears;
in reply to a deep feeling;
emerge from unstill eyes;
what do they search for;
the same treasures on the global map;
the same pleasures;
love that transcends;
music that overtakes;
warmth that shelters;
every time I hear your voice;
my love, my soul;
when I hear your voice;
within the abyss of my mind;
from a long-ago memory;
I push your voice forth;
and it grabs me;
I am in its possession;
I am in your possession;
even from a long-ago memory;
I am still owned;
by the sultry whisper;
that floats in the night sky;
the ambrosia of your breath;
as it gives me love's immortality;
the sensation of your lips;
as they caress every letter of every word;
the vibration of each wave of sound;
as it moves from science;
then to art;
then to an unimaginable beauty;
how ironic, dear heart;
that the only words I can use;
to describe this divine linguistic adventure;
must come from your own lips;
as it sanctifies my heart;
with that resplendent note.

Definitely in love with you
Reddish tint upon the hue
Lively colors raise the plot
The story moves inside the lot
I make a show to make me live
My life of lies, my means deceive
I'll gladly gamble everything
To win my earnings on a whim
But glows like sun, your smile bright
Like heaven gave you all her light
The stars were dim with hellish plight
To make my soul lose all delight
When I fell, I fell so hard
I couldn't move, feet in lard
Romantic thoughts were all I had
No return of feeling, soul came sad
Thoughts of darkness in my head
My inner words still not said
They know me not, I came undone
Magical songs still unsung
Yet I filled my body with poison
To drown the volume, slay the cousin
Of noise, laughter with despair
The cries of joy filled the air
What punishment to hold you still
What void in me remain unfilled
The tear in eye, my inner battle
I'll herd them in, my inside cattle
But yet I see you with your guy
Someone other, not like I
Nature whispers in my ear
Why so mucky, when so clear
I want to disappear in your heart
Let my soul be a part
Of your endless, loving care
While I huddle in your stare.

in the muddied waters where corpses float
the moon shimmers on the lazy surface
of a tired stream, gliding on it
with the ease meant for those
that dream during sunny days
and those that ravage the stormy nights
but how can I pursue my joy
when it runs
from me
I gallop on the coast of life
yet coasting on its slide
contradicting myself in every way

I see the eyes of my estranged breeze
as she jovially brushes the branches of trees
as she makes once lifeless leaves fly
as she caresses each cheek
only mine remains unkissed
and yet she flows on
leaving me behind
so I ignore her
never asking for readmittance
back into her torrential storms
to suffer with glee
the hailstones of her affection
instead I built myself a shelter
and hid myself
from her gloried love

in an oakened parlour
where a private man sits
his brows furrow
face hardened
by the whips of life
his calloused hands
stay steady
as his breath shallows
eyes scan the room
searching for her
needing her presence
here in his last hour
as he sits in his prison
a castle devoted to him
vacuumed of all air
his heart beats slower
eyes scan the room
searching for her
needing her presence
here in his last hour
his glance rests
at the tinted window
and he is able to peer
outside
and see his breeze
still rustling about
with disagreeable fellows
those not worthy of her touch
he would break down those doors
gladly
to dance once more in the rain

instead, I sit, a private man
alone, with no companion
watching my breeze
engulf the world
with her dance
the shimmering wisps
of autumn's hair
rays of sun
like spears in the air
piercing through flesh and soul
arrows of Eros doing their duty
and all around
my castle of isolation
lay everyone
blissfully torn by the steel of love
breathless, while I still breathe
my breeze neglects me
for I was not worthy
I did not rise
to meet her challenge
I refused
to adhere to her demand
her demand
that…
simply…
I must love her.

most of what
I have to do,
is a result of
addressing
the consequences
of doing
what I want to do

Let me make it clear.

I am a shell of my former self.

The raindrop, unformed,
to be denied the pull of gravity.

But, if I close my eyes,
I can see divine assertions
of my former glory;
to be divulged and distributed
to everyone but myself.

Should I trust my senses
when all that's manifested
are insane twists of mind,
mazes lost in translation,
compasses circling upon themselves,
leading to unsettled destinations,
winding roads and battered shores
with waves eradicating
bits of my character?

When the floods come,
will we assign to the ark
creation
two by two?
Will we wait until the storm passes?

Behold me,
the solitary man!

Behold me,
a true island,
etched from rock
by the continous chisel
of earth's blood!

Vegetation untouched,
lacking maturity.
Earth unwalked,
lacking integrity.
Air uninspired,
lacking humanity.

But, if I close my eyes,
I can see the universe's plan
for my destiny,
placed on the shelf of life,
dusty and fossilized,
unmapped and unread.

I am not as I should be,
resisting the best within me.
Is it too late?
For me?
For me to retain my inheritance?

How will I find Polaris?
The skies remain murky
by the fog I have created.
Who will help me navigate?
Or will I continue to be the lost treasure
undiscovered?

Her thin pale frame
her thin pale frame
like an anchor attached to my heart
her sparkling eyes
like God having a conversation with my soul
a variation of the light spectrum
her own color not meant for humanity
her face, the thought of it brings tears to my eyes
like the remnants of rain on a windowpane after a storm
from the memory of my hands upon her cheeks
from the pain of the memory of my hands upon her cheeks
her hair, though experimented with length
the smell, the texture, the touch, a welcome gift
her voice, so much life in words
like the birth of a beautiful Frankenstein's monster
letters of the alphabet bursting forth from dormancy
as though they've been given living energy from God Himself
her freckled skin, making constellations of its own
I've caressed every spot with my fingertips
making my own heavenly connections
identifying my personal Polaris
her lips, when they touched mine, electric
static, like I've both gained and lost a charge
I'm made whole with every kiss
her obsession with my body, my obsession with hers
our expression of love, its own Picasso masterpiece of physicality
as we made our own art upon canvas
our sweat mixed like watercolors
our bare skin gliding on one another
our sin was our prayer to the higher ones
we were not ashamed
her nervous energy shown in the wringing of her fingers
as though in anticipation of a phantom
ghosts that were never there
I loved that about her too
selfishly, because I wanted to be the one she needed at those times
to soothe her soul
her waist, small and natural
but with the slight shape of a snake down her back
her ailment, my ailment, we treated it together
her legs, God, I miss her legs around me
as though she never wanted me to leave her
her laugh, with reckless abandon
contagious like a plague upon the world
begging to be allowed to enter the body and infect the soul
ah...but her soul, so pure, so real, the way a woman should be
her unconditional love,  her constant encouragement
the way the world became brighter because she existed within it
the day my world became darker because she left me
all that I was, all that I am, all that I will be
impacted by one person like a large asteroid smashing into the face of the earth
leaving a massive crater instantly, but spreading throughout the world
intense radiation
I want the impact again, I want my face smashed in
I want my heart to burst with love again
but we're only entitled to one true love
and I have had mine
I will have no other.