Hold me,
In an embrace of thorns.
Hold me with a metallic feel,
Masticated love,
Votives made up of us
Rejected in full stead
To what appeal?
Wealth?
Life paid at the expense of ***,
******* yourself.

So much to say, which means so little;
So little to say, what that means much.
These ends we face, often,
Come on fast and taper out just as such.
What that remains: naught but thought.
Loose and multiplicitous as strands,
Hair of the artist's brush,
Colors as the richest palette -
Bold & bright, deep & dark

Why I would ever
Knowing it would only
Prove a disaster, & cause only pain.
No sparks to be rekindled,
Only fumes remain of suffocated flames;
As alcohol on water
When all fuel has been spent -
Lamenting the sea

When the rains fall away,
We move on with things and
Think nothing of the water which percolates
Seeping into the water table
No thought as it saturates
As cycles repeat
And liquid evaporates, condensates,
And it falls once more;
When rains end

Ah, how quickly do
Nights age & shatter - like old glass.
How short lived, the stars

Roses fall, silent;
In moonlight, like pouring rain.
On the leaves, dew hangs

If comparison were forced,
No flower would match your beauty.
Every rose would pale
Trying to meet the measure
Of that which I see,
Of how much you mean to me

There is no greater pleasure,
Than pressure,
When our two bodies meet

Singing your praise

In my ocean, you are the tides
The only thing to stir to life
Rivers of crimson within,
Areas grey & white
Were I the fish, you could eat
Forgo a day, for an eternity
You could cast from my soul,
Wade my streams