smoke drifted across the thick silence hanging in the air
writhing in serpentine patterns toward the ceiling before lazily bursting apart.
"what do you see in me?" you asked.
i had to take a moment to think, shocked by the suddenness of your question.
there were a million answers that could be given.

"i see someone who strives to be above perfect."
someone who broke apart the glass barrier of adversity closed around him,
and who is still picking glass out of his arms and knuckles.
he fights every day to be something more than what he is.
he embodies perfection without realizing it.

"i see someone who wants love but is afraid of it."
it's like looking into a mirror, sometimes.
maybe inside, you're just as shredded as i am.
you only give a little, to the misery of my aching heart.
but the feather light touches of your fingertips
granted in sweet morning light, when we both have yet to wake up,
well, it speaks volumes.

so many more answers i could have given, but you invoke a series of complex emotions.
some of them aren't worth naming.

you stared at me, and i marveled at the exquisite angular artistry writ in your visage.
i can't look at you without noticing how **** handsome you are.
but the next words cut like ice,
"that's not good enough."

You could walk by,
Catch my glance
Envelop me in a warm smile.

And I would grin back,
Wondering if you can feel
The dissonance radiating from me.

you,
a mind of stardust
and a heart of gold.
i delight
in the challenge
of your mystery.
i am
enamored in the crosshairs
of your smile.

My mother's soul: demonic voices. Shizophrenic whispers twined together...
A clump of burning sage billowing serpentine smoke into the still air.
What is she? A creature of regret,
Pathetically keening for pity to cater to a hollow heart,
and an empty stomach.
My shoulders wither, weeping willow'd, beneath her red-nosed, tear-glossed stare.
I'm nothing.
Exploited.
Made of love and guilt.
I try to get close to her -
but even touching fingertip to fingertip, there stands between us
a plate of glass.

His form a shadowy sketch, thin and gaunt
Leaning up against a wall.
At the right place, at the right time – as always,
A touch fancy, a bit dressed up
Ready to take on the world;
armed with the freedom to fail.

His occupation?
The consuming of miles of white paper,
His inspiration provided by
A lonely view off of Devil’s Highway
Where Pico blvd. meets the sea.

Seeking the inner root of expression
Through tall red wine bottles and nightly wanderings
In places beautiful yet dangerous,
Packed with life’s complex geometry
– the city breathes, the streets are alive.

Visualizing in delicate penciled lines and thick brush strokes
Vibration, sound and light manifest in brilliant colors,
Depth, shadow, color / the void – all merging together.
Pushing abstract boundaries;
Inter-dimensional windows
Through the intricate layering of transparencies.

Experience of self-discovery.
No mistakes, no traps, just childlike experiments.
Experiments and initiations;
A fusion of universal laws and ethereal dreams.
Kinetic value, composition,
Balance.

Creations – sealed in time like amber.