I can feel the slow throbbing of my heartbeat
When I press my thumb to my accidental wound
That stopped me from inflicting pain upon my skin
It is steady, without a missing thump
A loyal metronome that reminds me
Of how powerless I am after all of this
I remember the first morning I noticed
The slowness of my heart
I was at the kitchen table the morning
After I was informed of them taking her away
I couldn't breathe and my hand clutched
At my chest, beating it to bring normality back
But it wouldn't bring back the extra beat
Everyone knows heartbeats are not
Completely consistant in keeping time
But I would like to believe she made me
Steady, rhythmic, mechanic, robotic
When they took her away
"Hey, why do you always look so sad?"
I gave the answer my brain spit out
I remember thinking it was a bad thing to say
But it came out despite all judgement
"Because I'm going crazy right now."
It wasn't a lie and it still isn't
My heartbeat is still slow and lethargic
As it pumps through my veins like iron
So, yes, I'm a little bit crazy
But that's okay, given the circumstance
Crazy beats dead, which I'm not
Even with my dying heartbeat
Out of my control.

Consistant honesty,
something I lacked
when I was a younger me.
But now I find it hard
to bite my tongue,
so eager to roll out
a frank wound or
two.
Or blow out a cloud of,
"I don't agree."
I have to stand up for me.
If that nonstop candor
is really what you
crave,
then come back and
let me drool out
consistant honesty.

It’s a lie, it’s a lie, that I turned out alright
On southbound highways leading into the depths of past mistakes
Feelings of insecurity getting in the way
And you tell yourself “it’s all going to be ok”
Is it all going to be ok?

I’ve already lost everything there is
To complain about,
Empty house, emptier mind
Floating, drifting, down a sonic tide
Where sound waves turn me gently on my side

Let gentle beauty surrender to vicious vice
Calling me down the mountain for the night
Where one turns into four and four to sixteen
I’ve been worshiping this **** calf for over two weeks

We are the pretender, our commonality being a levee of lies
Cracking against the aggressive weight of truth

Inconsistency remains in all but my flaws

Apon are arrival once at times seemed questionable
We were greated by none.
hawaii had spoiled us to all other airport experiences
Were else could a half hunover  yet slighty buzzed  madman
stumble from a plane to encounter a beautiful woman in a grass
and cocunut bra once even now made me thirst for for a pina collada.

But in in canada there was nothing  to greet us there but cold
As we stumbbled around dressed like soon to be doomed criminals awaitting trial.

Cananda its slogan should have been.
Welcome to Cannada  it's really ******* cold.
But we knew where to find warmth in this enviroment.
Or for that matter any enviroment.
For we were drunks or as i liked to think of it consistant drinkers

And on are journey into this land of freezing weather maple syrup
and ice hockey.
We had one true goal.
we had come to drink Cannada dry.

No bar would untouched No bottle would not know are name.
we would hit on many women.
Score with a few and say we had slept with many.

I was a religeous man and i need to get in touch with with the spirts
The spirts of Canadian mist  Jim beam  And my old stand by spirt Gin


It was a bold mission for which we had set forth.
Are livers were alredy beaten to almost a pulp but
we still somehow still walked and functioned in disquise of
semi normal human beings  but nothing was further from the truth

we were writters was ment we were professional crazy people
On a mission to depleet this icey land of its alcohol
an drink canada dry

“why don’t you write a book?”

they’ll expect
a second

if consistency
and money
was consistant
see, I’d write a book

“you should write a book”

poetry is a dying art,
you’ll find a needle
every now and then
but the hay is bound
together with cellphones
and bongs
and unexpected
suicides

no one wants to hear
how sleep deprived you are
because your satin feels
like moth wings
and how your skin
feels like
a burning painting,
why cigarettes kiss
harder and how love
feels like the bottom
of a dinner plate

you’ll find compassion
and understanding
but finding a diamond in
the rough is
only valuable if
you can escape

Mind elevation, spiritual transformation, divine creation, scientific contemplation, meditation focused, inner-chi explosive, heart and soul ancient, lyrically be amazin, intellect cravin, answers to QUESTions revealed, a vigintillion miles per nano-second thrill, killin ignorance, study is heaven-sent, militant consistant, break out of submission, the matrix, no fake ****, which pill u takin, everything be changin, so which way u steppin, be conscious of ur decision, due time for persision, open up the third eye, stop sufferin and win the fight, cause all it is is recognize,, the one in the way is no one but eye n eye! YOU in the mirror, wake up with no fear! The time ain't near it's NOW! Strap them boots on, and USE YOUR POWER! Practice makes perfect, I know all y'all heard it, regardless of how u word it, all them isms are limits, don't deny u did it, this is ur chance to grow and not repeat it, dont fake the funk, and wake the &@#$ up! And stop to think before u speak...there aint no revolution without revelation...get outta that box of stagnant repetition...WAKE UP!!!

Been a hermit not going out of my way at work
Been talking to girls but not consistant
Not trying to hear drama ppls sad stories and drama ruin my day
Ive been reading and writing feels like something is missing
Tired of being a victim of others frustrations
If I dont say anything others assume im mad
Sometimes iI take time for myself its overwhelming
Others tell me their struggle and i wish i could help sometimes i cant do anything
Awesome ppl consumed with emotions that are left from a previous relationship
Or not taking risks pursue the dream
It ***** to be going in another direction
Instead of being on the path youd like to be on
Its never too far it doesn't hurt to try

Three parts of water and oil

And one part of yellow grits

Salt and twenty minutes on the stove.

You don't have grits, throw in rice.

You don't have cornedbeef, throw in hamburguer

Or merguez mutton sausages. Or mix them both !

The secret ingredient of Scheharazade's Island Kitchen's Fire Engine is love.

She harbours in her smile

That grin of the kind of instant wild grits

Boiling for immediate bubbling,

Waters exploding from the ***,

Swelling, flowing, bursting,

Simmering until the point of bliss is reached.

And from an imperceptible move in her nostrils

You can guess the bulls in her cornedbeef mew the thyme of Heaven.

Her love is the kind of consistant batter

Blessed with okra, pumpkin and goat pepper.

im scared.
But  "I know I will be okay... "

(The quote that seems to make it all okay in the mind of Kimmy)

the seconds till sun sets feels like a lifetime.
I hear the whistle, but dont have that kick.
I feel the pressure; but there's no release

my break time, has turned into lunchtime and my style has changed from super so cal cute to what the **** am i doing out here?

i seriously contimplate playing with death. i think to myself how id do it and what the aftermouth could be.

its as if my skin is crawling with uncomfortableness.

this city isnt for me. im not for me.
i know who i am.
what i enjoy.
what is wrong and what is right.

but oftenly enough, my behavior has trashed all previous  teachings once learned. I cant take myself seriously i cant take life seriously. I am in a relationship that is remaining consistant because its one less thing to add to my table platter of life.

sometimes i wish i could just walk away after being served, but it just doesnt work that w ay. I get that.

Grey stone on Grey ground
Here had been a fire
Soot clung to the wet stone bricks
Ashes swirled
moving as one entity, pulsing with the breath of the wind

It gaped at me, this hole in the iced ground
A mouth condemned to a life of nothing but screams

The rough, jagged bricks bared
The thick ivy arched
The wind whisked past

I heard it
a tortured
consistant
screech

And I understood

The consistant tremble of her pale ivory hands,
never sure of what'll be done tommorrow.
Never safe,
But not afraid.
She runs cold-blooded,
no stops.
They follow, 
with dogs on leash. 
Alongside rivers..
Around the corner.
She sees the fear;
The unknown,
The hidden.
Beauty in intelligance,
She's not one to unveil. 
Said to be dangerous,
That little Missy.
Not easy to catch,
But Not hard to run into. 
Living immortal,
It's not something to chase.
Yet she holds her hands from regret..

I need another fire
Something larger than my own
Something more distracting

I'm waiting to find a second fire that doesn't burn
A fire that consumes but does no harm
I've found one but he's heaven bound
Give me flame in the flesh
Give me something tangable to cling to

Give me something to count on
Something that I can smile about genuinely
Something consistant and true

I need a solid rock
I need humanity and hope
Another half the strengthen who I am
Someone who knows and understands

Who listens but doesn't sympathize
Who won't take advantage even though I'd let him
Who cares but doesn't sugar coat
Who enjoys life and all it brings

I'm hoping to find him soon
Sometimes I think he's already here
I'm ready and waiting

The broken road I'm on
Is worth every stumble and scraped knee
If when I'm done you are the blessing I find

Reality is a blur, a foggy consistant blur.
Everyday is the same melancholic routine.
10 on the dot.
One sunnyside up egg with a toasted sourdough slice.
Citrus tea with honey and an amusing podcast to prepare.
Slap on foundation and eyeliner, to look somewhat "happy" for a straining workday to come.
Thank god for the coming 4 hours there, my mind is of spotless.  
Not a thought of you comes inching in my deserted cold mind in those 4 hours.
As soon as I punch out and put away the fake smiles of the workday, you pop right up.
This in general is not bad in a way that I loathe you, the memory of you,
But bad in a way that I miss you.
Enormously.
The old routine was much more methodically medicore but it was pure *******, beyond happiness.
Up at 9, waffles with milk, with tv in the background.  
As I can not fathom the desire to be at work already.
Walking in, I longed to see your deep icy blues that just melted me instantly as soon as I saw them,
Into a puddle, there I go.  
Their target are aimed towards my ungraceful demeanor, it still shocks me through out my whole body.  
Tingling, Inviting and Warm.
Feelings I felt everytime you nearby, I instantly knew it was you.
Present day.
As I drive towards what seems to be another morrow towards the vapid and grave, I look for you.
I felt those blues that day of a party.
I felt them as I walked away from a group conversation.
I felt them as I mourned the loss of someone.
I felt those blues that first night.
The night we met.
Vanilla ice cream, in the cold air and a life changing experince we both intuned.
Instinctively, I trust its profoundly there to you too.
Even now and till your departing day.
I felt those blue eyes.
As much sorrow and grief it brings me always, and probably will be till my final and sweet death,
I dream back to the days I would walk in, and melt in my puddle, as I felt and longed for those icy blues.

I sit in the corner as they flirt with my friends
I cough in my sleeve as they kiss without end
I stare at the wall as they makeout in the chair,
not even noticing, me curling my hair

I pretend not to notice the guys that say ew
or the people who stare when my friends enter a room
The boys who gape at the beauty they posess,
and I walk by looking my best.
I'm second rate when it comes to them,
and unnoticed by any men

They look more mature,
and make funnier jokes,
They build crowds around them and push me down
But my personality's consistant all year 'round.

I don't have looks
or a deadly skinny body
but I have a good heart
(and I'm not as moody)
so I don't need boys or parties
because I've got inner happiness

push me to the ground! I'm strong, I'll live!
stomp me and insult me! I can fight!
you can try killing me but **I wont die!

The consistant beat of her gentle heart fills my ears with the great song this world has to offer.  

As i lift my head, i can see all the beauty of the world in the shape of two blue circles that are as clear as the sea.

Nothing will take away the memories of her that have been burnt into my head.

And nothing will dare stand in the way of us, seperating and creating a distance between this bond we have.

We're too close for anything to come between us. Close enough to the point where she steals the thoughts out of my head and echos it out threw her mouth.

And as i sit here, with her in my arms, with trust of protection that i have always wanted to give her, i hear that song, i feel her heart, i smell nothing but her, and i can see everything that this world has to offer me. 

Right in the center of my arms and hidden in the beat of her heart.

your words are distant
your screams are trapped
the thoughts are consistant
your pale lips chapped
from constant persistance

you shed wet tears
that stain your cheeks
the frightening fears
that appear when you sleep
they sting your ears,
the whispers from over the years

they cannot see what you hide
but deep down you want them to see
the cause of your silent cries,
for your demons to be free;
free of the pain and dreadful lies.
happiness is the winning prize

Time is so important
Theres no limit or portion
It moves quick in an instant
Forever and consistant
Time never dies, its an existance
Where it began, it continues to flow
To where it ends,yet nobody knows

resentment looks bad on you
as does calamitous offense
zealous to justice, you cried "unfair!"
but comparison
    is the thief of joy
    the consistant producer of noxious suffering
remember laughing cares off
so hard you forgot
    the details of the offenses
releasing the mind to behave like a...
school-boy, approaching heaps of raked leaves

I am being made new.
The egg, cracked in half.
Taped together with scotch tape and super glue.
The yolk entirely devoid of its once-consistant home.

This is emptiness.
This is being renewed.
This is what it is to feel and not feel.
To be and not be.

The hand dips me.
Reaches for me.
Dunks me in a solvent of cement and tissue paper.

I am rock.
I am eggshell.
I am tissue paper.
I am two parts vulnerable,
one part entirely indestructible.

I weigh 1000 tons.

I would sink in a river.

I miss the yolk that once inhabited me.
Golden yellow:
So much promise. So much desire.

A gray mallet cracks me open.
It ecavates me.

I miss my terrible weight.

A hot glue gun binds me back together.
I am neither egg nor rock nor air nor yolk.
I am all and none at all.
I am egg soup.
Egg solid.
Egg squared and solidified.
Egg smashed and built again.
        ...The limitless persistance of life.

Communication
Through every nation
Consistant
Throughout the world

There's food here
and they remind me to eat
I don't remember the last time I had consistant meals like this
food and I have a unique relationship
textures, smells, colors
too many senses to take in at once
it's overwhelming sometimes
food is a battle
one I really never know how to combat
my weapons once vehemently familiar metal talons and serrated edges
were replaced by supervised plastic and paper
I have to ask for everything here
I would find it demeaning,
but instead I find comfort in being cared for
it's been a while since I felt so safe and secure

-- hear my greatest threat is me

Taken in
by the pagan spin
of abusive words spoken to repair what they won't  admit ...is broken
no civilized advancement comes stepping up to convincingly rent
All intwined like a wayward vine
Bending and twisting completely devoid of any spine
No amount of concentration
Allows me the sleightest indication
How one can collude with others of such attitude
Void of fairplay or honor
consistant in attempting to intrude

My pillow would turn to solid stone
My mind would beg for me to please atone
The dismal days I'd have could I climb out of bed
The pain would hover over filling me with dread

Each day to weigh heavier like a growing cancer
That knowledge that a question awaits an answer
That I could not acknowledge by truth I know
Nor can I go down the list...that liars row
To insult others as well as my own sacred being

If you sleep with ease I do wonder

HOW MANY DEMONS are you no longer FLEEING ?

Tick, tick, an hour glass.
A moment, a lifetime, and hour pass.
Sunset to sunset, sunrise to sunrise;
A fleeting moment of wonderless surprise.
Tick, tick, the consistant clock
Tick, tick, it seems to mock.
The metronome of my never-ending sorrow,
The beat leading forward to a fruitless tomorrow.
Tick, tick, an hourglass
A moment, a lifetime, and hour pass.
The question for me: if it won't last...
Why follow the hands?
If our time is time only to borrow,
What's the point of one more tomorrow?

Rise sun, oh brightest star of them all. Take pity on the weary, for your power, intense heat, your consistancy, can be exhausting; bringing high climaxes, and sweat upon ones brow, often times showing no mercy. 
Cast yourself upon open fields, across plains of flat and plateau, through cracks amongest thickets of trees, seeping through even the most thick, skies of grey. 
Bringing energy to life, or retracting your right, your presence-well known. The abundance of your will can not go unrecognized nor unseen. 
Stream upon vast skies, susceptible to your suited liking. Over baring can your harshest of ill moods be. 
At days end, peek of dusk, at last you retreat to offer the beauty, the calm serenity of your moon. Greatful for your splendor, but welcoming the moonlight- your relief, brief rest from your consistant, sometimes sweltering offerings. 
**You shall rest once more upon my shoulders day next and speak again of your bold admissions for all to recall.

do you feel that weight?
it pulls you down
like it's fate

do you feel those tears?
they pour quickly
but do not wash away your fears

do you feel the void?
it stays consistant
with the dreams you avoid