A          feeling          of         claustrophobia         has        begun         to         confine         me.

This swamp of ideas thickens inside me,  the murky clay mud making each step twice as demanding as the last. The once clear flowing waters of my dreams seem to be crystallizing, clouding and freezing over, ceasing the stream of my escape. My brain is callusing over incarcerating me, forcing me to experience the hardening of my own being. A reaction inside halting my imagination and depriving me of the ability to call out for help. These thoughts and words I evacuate onto this page only act as a catalyst speeding the process of my inevitable silence. There will come a time when the swamps have solidified, and the waters of my dreams become frozen clouded crystals trapped in place. My brain will develop into a callous, rendering my mind mute, I can feel this metamorphosis materializing yet there is nothing I can do to stop it, the development has already begun, all I can do is wait until a feeling of...

A          feeling          of         claustrophobia         has        begun         to         confine         me.

Language as you like.
Be it in the proverbial sentence as I do demonstrate
or in the slow callusing of the slow scrape of the slow,
trudging hand over paper--line
by
line
by
lonely lonely line--
bye-- bye-- bye--

Dignants’ confabulation with the legal writ may render profit
but of what avail when they cannot
revel.

Rebel:
These days, we do not trrrrrill our words
or fascinate on the decomposition of lane-goo-age.
Oneway-coyish-maturation.

Be Flame
Be Boy
Be Ant

I am
die
gene
err
rat

The Great Wall of China is a series of fortifications made of stone, brick, tamped earth, wood, and other materials, some of which include: chips of cloven hooves, beating in rhythm with a grand conqueror on high, brethren united in one charge; sweat of a migrant, summertime rain cooling between his shoulder blades, stones callusing fingers; blood of one and many terracotta men, giving their lives for God and king; new silk chewed up by moths; jade and chrysanthemum, a nobleman’s wife’s treasury; sun and wind, a flood, grace of a new emperor - my life, reaching backwards into pockets of rice fields, scholars’ tables, great-grandmother’s childhood castle, everything I know.

When I'm with you
I'm in a dream
From which
I cannot
Will not
Wake

When I'm with you
I barely remember a time
When I could not see
Our future

Because
I can see
The callusing of your palms
Two tear duct lashes
Summer then Fall

We aren't known for
A connection that
Calls for the movie magic
First kiss at my doorstep

But
who needs that
When my hand fits so
Precisely in your jacket
Pocket?

My face on your shoulder:
"I can feel your smile"

Wet eyes
Green eyes
Red lightening bolts
Across white
Can't disguise
A connection so
Right I can't help but
Smile and thank god
In the isle of a bookstore
Maybe

That I have found
My meant-to-be

The one I've chosen
And have been chosen by

Because
After all these years
My hands in your hands
Finally we're here

When I'm with you
I feel it is impossible
to ever feel alone again

Enmeshed legs
Arms
Chest to chest
Soul crunch

And it's not enough
To dissolve into you

Trying to figure out how
To consume even more

Short of Winifred Sanderson- ing
Your life force's electric
Blue blanket cloud
Through deliberate
Lip sips

A mellifluous whisper:
"How is this even possible"

Possible