Her warm words wash over me like a dope fiend daze... other voices boorishly buzz a cackle cacophony. At best they are the background noise of your existence.

bit players (endless layers) as she comes my way

Your body pixilates in an ******* focus, it bends, projects all else slowly into your frame, the deja vu of ****** tunnel vision. I struggle to speak as I stand before you.

All others condemned, reduced to extras in a celluloid daydream
they are arrayed for your adornment  
set pieces that surround you in the cinema that is your daily divine saunter

body sacramental (those around you incidental) as she walks away

The subtext, the reflex, the ambivalent, ambient lighting
means nothing without you

my arc, my carnal ******,
any other epilogue is dystopian

cdh

avenue sounds are never agreeable, ignore the drift,
ignore the hum,
ignore the suburban neophytes in the city lights (I never did care much for hipsters).
ignore rapid eye movements, the flush red face, ignore the snapshots of you that adorn my semi-sleep state

I stare at my ceiling and see the cobblestone summer streets you once graced, long ago in the eternal occident, I want to ignore but I’m so very boozed, in a blue lucid slumber:::

eyes closed::: my head spins and sleep begins with the tidal delirium of dopamine drips, your legs, your hips, I’m drowning a bit, doused in a sanguine sweat inside a fantasy (**** I’m dreaming of you)

Synaptic friction
she is a pleasant fiction  
flash/sparks segue a dormant memory ,
the two of us riding familiar highways::: she gazes at me with her usual emerald encased ocular torment, those limbal rings cast aspersions at the last vestiges of my will power, until, I’m done, done in by the divinity of her lips:::

There is no end to (your) energy
It even finds me here::: in my dystopian  dream (eternal)
now
an inescapable, myopic curse
(nocturnal):::
the nightmare of not having you near

Awake, I roll over to clutch for the pacifier of your comfort (violent midnight)
I find only a fragrance,
i flail, searching, when those flashbacks fall short
isolated into the banality of bedsheets and pillows pleats

(the retrograde nature of my reality, now readily apparent)



cdh

A Reading from the Book of Puppets

Her
Ventriloquist venom is never ending
engineering every word I should say

Pity me as her words drip down from my mouth
Look to me... my paralyzing awkwardness admonishes all attempts at paucity  

the ***** of vernacular continues
Manifest as a million babble born words
look at her and you’ll know why
Would you sell your soul
if you spoke staccato and she smiled sadistic?

And when she’s not there
I lay prostrate on the railroad tracks
of her impending presence
restrained
and retrained in the tailisman rope of your arrival
Look there now, a Tongue tied in knots, a mind firing (shots)
I am reduced
she is labyrinthine, in both style, and substance,
a sapiosexual maze, a soothing syrup mixed with
biter bile


why then does
nothing feel better than to see her smile
Why validate her pleasure
with my defeats?
Stuck and ****** into a singular melodious smile, the tune of which I can’t help but dance to

Why? Because at the end of the day

your eyes jut out
candelabras in defiance the night
notifying the world
of all you want but have yet to receive
a shallow existence .... a marked man... a million morbid motifs
made of mucus and stuttered star beams

You are that rare being, a glimpse at myself both wretched and alluring
A soul already tainted::: still I seek to embrue, the boredom
I am voiceless
in this decaffinated life

a tendril of hair
a woman domestic
a shadowland chaser
a light that’s poetic
The addictive tape worm of my soul

cdh

A Penn Hills man will have items from his clothing line featured in a fashion show in Pittsburgh on Saturday.

Cary Heard, owner of CDH LABEL Clothing Co., has teamed up with The Ladies of Distinction — a recently-formed group of women in Pittsburgh and surrounding areas who are focused on community outreach, fundraisers and programming that benefits the educational growth of underprivileged youth — to headline his first fashion show as they present, “Make Me Over,” an extravaganza with a vision to “spread self-love awareness in the community and embody the greatness that exists in all of us.”

Heard, 22, said the show's goals were relatable to him as he relied on support from family and friends to pursue his ambition to become a fashion designer.

“I was always encouraged because I was good at (designing clothes). It was a talent and people wanted to see it grow,” said Heard, who has been featured three times in Pittsburgh's Fashion Week.

He said his friend's mother bought him a new sewing machine when he was 14 under the condition that he practiced sewing daily.

Heard said receiving the gift turned out to be a “pivotal point” to change his hobby into something he could make into a career.

Kim Heard, his mother, said Cary was “full-blast” with designing after that.

“He wanted to make things for himself, and his style changed. He was passionate about looking good in his clothing and making things he could wear. His peers asked him to make things and that snowballed into making vests for guys, and he made dresses for his dates to semi-formals, and then prom gowns,” Kim Heard said.

Fellow designer Starr Thomas has worked with Heard for more than five years, a time in which she said the duo has both collaborated and given one another input on designs.

“Our bond is just motivating one another and giving each other confidence to keep going,” she said.

Thomas said that since she's known Heard, his attitude toward others has always been “be confident in yourself,” and that he lives his own life that way.

“He's so passionate about (designing clothes). That's part of what makes him special. That, and his talent,” she said.

Heard's passion, talent and demeanor toward life has propelled him into headlining fashion shows.

Saturday's show will provide an opportunity for others to have confidence.

“Make Me Over” creators hosted an open online contest, where 40 contestants submitted photos and essays describing why they thought they deserved a makeover.

Two winners were selected, and on Saturday they will have a complete makeover and get a chance to walk the runway sporting a new look which includes hair, makeup and wardrobe.

Heard described one of the winners as a single mother who devotes the majority of her time to her daughter and hasn't had “much time for maintenance on herself.”

The second winner was nominated by her friend. Heard said she is “very involved” with community outreach, and is a “mother figure to many young people in the community.”

The person who nominated her wrote that she was deserving of the makeover due to her “strong cultural presence.”

Heard said all of the submissions received were “heartfelt,” and that he's glad to headline a show encouraging self-confidence, and gives fellow-designers chance for exposure.

“I'm hoping to make (the show) an annual thing. I hope it will bring a crowd that will create networks for myself and our other designers,” he said.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/****-formal-dresses | http://www.marieaustralia.com/cheap-formal-dresses

I’m not of this time
Future traveler on vacation in the Land of Lost, a ship out of fuel, a world confusing, 30th century fool
I came to observe blind beings who bend to the will of a surrounding chaos

After 1000 years adrift... Tired of the creeping tedium, I’ve become one
Tired of Logging anime patches and social media confessionals for the folks back home, I became one

You see, 21st century tragedy **** is big in the future, along with Akira and the selected letters of Eugene O’Neil

I’m lost, tell my subordinates
Confused, no need of a map, I know the coordinates, but I’ve become one

You’re not supposed to fall in love on these missions
Just take manga pics, perhaps monitor your fission

But the eyes I’m lost in
A fading autumnal green
I had to see her, I had to be seen
A violation but I’m trained,
still I’m weak, a mind so ingrained
(I am one of you now)

While drunk counting slightly smeared, sparkles on glass glittered lips, I found myself: in love
I told her: “The wine taste on your tongue is sacramental”
A feigned profundity, it’s incidental
(a convenient disguise for my insanity)

She doesn’t love me back. But I found myself

cdh

My heart beats faster,
My knees weaken,
My eyes flutter,
My stomach tenses,

I feel warm,
I feel safe,
I feel loved,

In your arms,
arms,
arms,

I feel worthy,
I feel needed,
I feel wanted,

In your heart,
heart,
heart,

I feel touched,
I feel joyous,
I feel.... blissful,

In your arms,
arms,
arms,

Your arms are a sanctuary,
And I gladly devote myself to thee,

In your arms,
I am yours,
In your heart,
I am yours,

I am bright,
I am riant,
I am halcyon.

cdh

Detonate the  
galaxies we once groveled to

in defiance
fear the pen of God no more:::
Sharpen the senses (in the silent ether)

there
in a room alone
look at the mirror,
get out of the way
so you could see yourself

Rescue the trembling
low hanging fruit of our annihilation
Dance in the sparks of our
 daybreak demise
Feel the pinch of the burn as it blinds you

with new eyes
suffer the saving grace wisdom
fate (life) is sadistic
pain is palpable
so let your flesh grow recalcitrant


free will is there if you want it

You Detonated my  
galaxy now i grovel to you

I fear the pen of God no more:::
Sharpen your senses (in this silent ether)

you were always there
in a room alone
in the mirror, refusing to get out of the way
so you could see yourself

You’re trembling
Shaking, as I taste the fruit of our annihilation
spark our demise as you ******  
arch your back at daybreak  
pinch, burn, it binds you

those eyes
the eternal grace of your wisdom
I surrender,
sadistic
when the pain is pleasurable
the light on your flesh glows violently   

free will is there if you want it:::
now bid goodbye to those incoherent
Bob Dylan daydreams

cdh

I taste a metallic taste,
Iron,
Warmness,

I am choking,
I can barely swallow,
The taste is hinting.

It hurts,
A numbing pain,
A sharpness.

cdh

I long for the reign of the visual (her first look of the day)
The pitter patter stampede on my conscience
quickly softened with a touch; such is the cotton effect
of her flesh:::
still she isn't here

vile is the curse of distance
the struggle to be close to her::

the want knows
what it's like to be beatified in accession
ingratiated in proximity
inculcated by a smile

when inches feel like miles
continents should be easy
still I panhandle for a word
dumpster-dive for images
Forever searching for you, a salve of perfection, frozen in time

There is an arrogance in the required syllables needed to describe her grace

cdh

I would like,
To dedicate my love,
My pain,
My heart,
My joy,
To the ones,
Who have suffered,
Are suffering,
Will suffer,

Except those,
Who rightfully deserve it,
Like the ones,
Who beat children,
Who touch children,
Who **** children,
Who **** people,
Who **** people,
Who abuse people,

Children and people,
Who do not deserve this treatment,
The ones who plead,
The ones who beg,
The ones who hope,
The ones who cry,
The ones who die,
At the monster's hands,

There are people who deserve to suffer,
For the pain they've caused,
Oh so many people,

I would like,
To dedicate my love,
My pain,
My heart,
My joy,
To the ones,
Who have suffered,
Are suffering,
Will suffer,
Except the true monsters.

cdh

in out, in out,  
a pain of preposition repetitions
teaches the celluloid torture of ocean green eyes
  
::: I take only truth from her sea foam gaze (and from her lips a lonely lie)


Is the imitation of repeated mistakes still the
sincerest form of flattery?

Are the cutting hematic glances of invisable ink
designed to Draw and Quarter me?

If so, let the blood letting begin miss

With a sketched Steel Heart , I puppy dog pursue you with a pirouette pen, spun  into your Iron Maiden.

and as Thumb Screws and finger blues
replace those bite, **** fantasies, I marvel with appreciation at my favorite mistake.

No one does cold like her

cdh

My mouth makes its daily pilgrimage
A sacramental routine to the Divine
She resonates in eyes and mind
But that's a tale for another day


On a pedantic quest
He is meticulous, a perfectionist
In nothing
But this...

Stop now:: hold me at the hips
she is my anticipation in alabaster
so Sadistic, brooding, now my near biting mouth moves...
“please?”
projecting points, two sinful
hipbone temptations
as he traces
soft skin with *******
in the serpentine tradition
Of fallen
Eden Grace
he knows she feels the same

Her chest pounding, sweat shakes
a daytime ****** for that salination:::
coyly she recoils
her toy taught and long since conditioned for the taste

it all seems so familiar
A mind's race to the vault of all his ***** thoughts of her
”Now to play in real time what was run through
in those shower wet ideations”

cdh

Doctors Orders: Take two of these and text me in morning...

be thankful (after all something is better than nothing, right?)

better yet
satiate and salivate (side effects of the drug, but at least it shows you care)

fill my monthly prescription... (my god, the synthetic fantasies she provides)

the tantalizing **** tease of what could have been
with
promises of a RomCom script I'll never read

replicate dosage until hackneyed (then be sure to beg for more)

your body on a fishhook
your heart in a bear trap
always taken in conjunction with
a "healthy" dose
of

your true intentions
pixelated in darkness

cdh

A crush
A raw spark of love, only as dangerous as the subsequent blaze that consumes you



              He loves her as a selfish escape
              He loves her for the promise
              of brilliant mornings
He loves her
              for the touch of her rain soaked legs, after those knee cap kisses
              she is a dashboard masterpiece,
              reclined    
              Interred with a flesh of subterranean
              brilliance
              He loves her for the chance at
              brilliance
     The Choking Charcoal effect of her eyes'
              Brilliance
      The Choice of a Chalice imbibed as he drinks between her taste brilliant

cdh

CDH

the epilogue empties, the arc has flatlined, a judge now speaks

“your sentence is to be a windy day Eternal Tether, neither holding nor held”

This breeze. Those wind gust.
Foil flips, sunlight bouncing as it spins at sunrise... the trash is gaining traction now

you get the icons you are worthy of
and your children are sentenced to bow to  plastic pariahs repurposed as heroes

pray away the bad man, and bubblewrap the rest. do you recall that innocence girl?

it emptied from you, quivering, as a smile stole the corners of your mouth.