I struck a match and watched
the flames smother your
scarlet smoked poetry scattered
on the darkened ground.  I told
myself that I was finished this
time around and I'd never go
back into your raging blazed
affection.  I remember the
pain I carried inside my soul,
the lonely days and nights I
sat on the couch smoking
a pack of cigarettes over
blackened beats, flicking
embers in the stained grey
ashtray, inhaling the
shattered shadows
surrounding my crumpled
body.  The swollen chemistry
was cracking my cheeks,
heartbroken diction over
diminishing metaphors, as I
gazed out the window at the
unmoving trees and distant
leaves, the sky falling apart
beyond my smashed frame.
At one time I did love you
more than anything in the
world, but I see now that
we can no longer be.
And as I stood in the
backyard of my home,
the sizzling flames burning
with no remorse, crackling
and popping, exploding and
disturbed, there was a calm
feeling settling inside of me,
a vivid light opening my eyes
for the very first time.

She says that I'm overthinking small
situations and turning them into complex
equations, a mountain of igniting dungeons
beyond infinities, a labyrinth of swelling
light flickering without energy.

I gaze at the unfiltered alliteration in her
one-dimensional shape, the split derivatives
diverging towards a square of stained
subtractions.

My mind is the light source that transcends
destiny, a wall of mirrored depictions
aligning with my soul.  I am a critical thinker,
and I shall live in this realm forever.

Today I walked on the
beach and felt the grainy
sand underneath my feet,
a musical note of soft
melodies, luminescent
light, a sparkling design
in my sky-blue eyes.
There was a peaceful
sensation within this
landscape.  The rays
of the shining sun was
upon the cityscape, as
the dazzling seas danced
in the distance.  The soaring
eagles were flying above
in a dynasty of transcendence,
while I snapped pictures with
my camera of a magnificent scene.

I mastered myself to compose
the words that were inside
my brain on a sheet of loose
leaf paper, as I sat in
my chair contemplating
about the meaning of double
standards, how its diction cut
close to my chest and left me
wanting to understand the
rhythm of its hard shifting
sounds.

She asked me to erase her masterpiece
out of my life, her bright and gentle
touch, the vivid dreams within her
soul, the waves that used to whirl
inside my veins.  

I stared at her unfinished design,
a distant depiction drifting in
the moonlight, a desolate
dungeon of faded shadows.

I know that she wants me to
bleed in this hollow space and
fall apart in tortured galaxies.  
But if she must leave to satisfy
her kingdom, I’d rather see her
walk away across the seas.

My soul feels empty inside
every day I stare at your
existence.  I can see the
repulsion in your misty
blue eyes, how your
body shifts away from
me in the silent space
that surrounds us.  And
when I try to come close
to your vessel, the touch
of your crimson hands
sparks my flesh into a
flaming lava of forgotten
dimensions.

He plucked the stems from
my existence and buried
them in fiery Mars.  And
as I tried to search for
the missing part of me,
there was nothing to be
found.