dear you, dear eyes
in your lovely sockets,
your presence is poetry,
an experience i cannot sculpt
into words precisely,perfectly,patiently:
pauses and punctuations, the words
i want to kiss into your mouth
and then tease with my tongue.

i seek solace/solar/suns,you dress my fingers with a
gentle grip and your scooping motions-
oh the waxing crescent moon;i see-
now i see clearly that the moon
is dark and round akin to your pupils.
once an abyss,no w a world beyondddddddd!
what blithesome business

i once thought the moon had a
face of a man and I still do but the moon
found its way to a face of a man I know.

stark silence, silly matters, subtly, just subtly
i find myself looking up/wards,wards,wards
and enjoying earnest pleasures in p
ain/eeling/inching/ulling, an unearthly joy found
between my bleeding fingers and my nails
(or lack thereof)

maybe the moon is alive,has skin,breathes and
sometimes talks/i know, i know it, i’ve felt it.
I KNOW IT as i,i, i

passively watched the blood moon;I’m
certain and I bet all my cuticles on this
that i know pretty pretty eyes when i see them
in a drunken fear fun fantasy falling falling

and i form your fluttering fleeting
shadow w w w wwwwwww           .

//

yoi were(as) meant to go when the sun comes up

I couldn’t
always be there.

It was as
simple as that.

And in a world
where everyone
  needs everything
to be at their
  beckoning call,

I just wasn’t
  good enough.

-Andrew Durst.

I can't breathe, the dirt is filling my lungs
Trying to scream out the lies of their tongues
No one hears, and no one cares
All they give is glances and sad stares

Pierced hearts and missing eyes
Thinkin' they won a prize
Saying good-byes with no tears to be seen
They say they don't remember
But I know they do
Skin is turning blue

My life is fading
Never dealt with this kind of aching
Spine broke in half and neck snapped
And now I'm trapped.

I'm running out of air
Take me to place of bare love and tear