Silhouettes of perfection
mirrored in the moon's reflection
As they dance across the plain.

Sheets of grass are crisp with dew
From the condensation
caused by the concentration
of their gaze.

Blind to the life they draw
they are stopped only by thunderous applause
from the voyeurs of their strain

Horns shattering the silence of an intimate exchange.
Excited by the very motion of the living.
The color of their exsistance change.
Any misgiving and the other will find where fury preys.

You and I are cut from the same stone.
Diamond.
The extreme pressure we face gives us our shape
our sparkle
our shine
And our formation
reduces the common denomination
of things that can affect us.
The things that do penetrate
within us, permeate.
Revolve around our universe,
Dictating our hue.
We may appear blue
or red or yellow but deep down
Our own imperfections define us,
which is why we are Brown.
While we have different varieties
Only one thing can destroy us
decisively.
Diamond.

You and I are cut from the same stone
Diamond
We can see the full spectrum but red doesn't show our anger.
Bull.
It is the motion that incites our movement.
Equilibrium
We can only rest when we know our limitations.

Bed-ridden
with a grotesque taste
of mucus in my mouth.
Head hidden
beneath a wall of tissue.
I can't seem to clear my nose.
Aspirin given
in increments of 2x4.
My head is still pounding.
Fresh air forbidden.
I'm too weak to stand.
I'm too sick to think.

I have the sniffles
Because i didn't take precaution.
I have several sweaters
But they didn't sell in auction.
So I ventured outside
into the frost an'
got the sniffles
because i didn't take precaution.

I spent a day counting the tiles
on the roof and floor.
On the windows and doors
I kept counting as I walked miles.

On each slab of concrete.
In the lines of the faces of people I meet.
On turtle shells.
and the sides of wells

I count tiles on doors
and the door itself too
I separate them by colors
like green and blue.

Why do I count tiles you ask?
It could be said
that its a sign of a problem in my head.
To me, its something simple to help the time pass.

I awoke alone,
after a horrid dream.
I turned to your face
to feel something comforting.
In the spot that graced your silhouette
were sheets weighted with regret.
My misdirected inflection
coupled with the misconception,
that 1+1=1 not 2 you see,
when the correct formula
is 1+1≥3


Fact is I lied.
When I pronounced "love"
with greater strength than "as long"
Fact is I lied.
When i said unconditional.
It is the beauty in song.

My regret lies in lack of earlier cognition.
This is not the first time this has happened.
Which means I never learned a lesson
inferring  to my lack of a mission
or understanding,
in a man's mind muddled.
I took the position
of sitting down in the struggle.
My body fatigued, eyes bloodshot and wary
I refused to see your definition
of affection realized in the lines of the abstract.

Fact is I lied.
When I said forever;
Knowing I am temporary.
Fact is I lied.
I never finished my sentence.
A more complete thought is "one of many"


The complete truth is my love was uniform.
Designed to let any woman fill the mold.
I lacked passion.
Which gives direction in a sandstorm.
I gave up my attempts to understand why water is wet.
Returned to my dreadful fantasy
wherein my heart would contort and deform.
As I told the truth to you
in a Scarlett and Rhett fashion;
We caressed in a snowstorm.
The message cut deeper than I could ever myself.

Fact is I lied.
When I said I would be fine,smiled
and drank in the last light you would reflect.
Fact is I lied.
When I said it was me
It was the both of us I wished to confect.

I like to eat spaghetti with my face.
I like to throw it like confetti
or wear it on my waist.
Whether it be freshly made
or reheated after 12 days.
I use the noddles as a short blade.
I like to hear them crack and crunch like a bag of lays.

It's cold outside.
I found a box
to hold within complacent thoughts,
outrages and jealousies.
Firewood to keep me warm.
Labels on the things I sought.
I'm seeking
the definition of what
why and how words are wrought
My raddled mind
latches on
to the slightest runaway fantasy.
As if reality
is a scorned
lover who refuses to dance with me,
declining my apologies.
My dearest paramour
return to me.

I can't help but wonder
how I have come to this place.
Held together by the past.
Rallied for the future
Accepting this present
It is a wonderful gift, I must say
Yet, I can't help but wonder
how I came to this place.
Did I come here to be safe?
Did I come here to be known?
Will I stay here?
Will I venture into the unknown?
No matter where my mind goes, I will always wonder
how I came to this place.

In here the record scratches.

Life does not walk these streets.
It rolls by in tin foil fleets.
Love does not fill the air.
It gazes from windows with forlorn stares
Liberty is merely bought.
Dollar bills and silver change give amount to the thought.
Dreams are what happens when you sleep.
A lie.
There are lessons to learn and rules to abide.
I
will not adhere to the word of the day.
My path deserves to be walked,
my dreams are not fall
acy.
My love is louder than the trains and sirens that permeate this city.
I will show liberty to all who seek.
Life is beautiful.
Even if the earth is bleak.