your touch
it ignites my bones
it leaves me breathless
it leaves a trail of love that I once had
and I hope it will come back

I am of a strange alchemy.
Iron and tarnished silver,
with porcelain hands.
The rest feels like glass.
Fragile.
Vulnerable.
As though the smallest tremor
could send me falling
to shatter.

A classy kind of car ride:
1950's radio station at a comfortable volume.
10 minutes later and we arrive.
Sun block on.
Sneakers tied.
Water bottles in hand.
Round and round the lake we go.
Just he and I.
The sun is yellow
The grass is green
The sky is blue
All the colors in their rightful place.
It's more like a walk filled walk
than a talk filled walk,
but that's the way we like it best.
No small talk here.
Just big talk for us:
the speed of light,
the start of humanity,
the purpose for our existence.
Otherwise, we just walk
oh and sometimes we jog too...
(His legs are long,
so sometimes I have to jog
in order to keep up.)
We have our own routine
our own system
our own pace.
Just he and I
Just he and I

The city body of life,
exalts despite its faults.
Wall
battlefield
****** love
on a street that does not
know of cigarette buts,
a car passes and fireflies sigh
darkness without a shadow
rockets with a thirst for ****** *******,
disappearing as a
reflection of the horse that brings
Furies
lovers
        walls of this street
similar chasms
They bend to the value of poverty,
        walks on this crowded
Avenue of death,
you will see guts shaking
in the mirror of the morning.

Most wounds heal inspite of
Pain forever remains because of

The vagabond needed a place to rest,
Let it find some comfort,
*Don't become home