We’re skipping stones
On still waters
That might
Be better left alone

We’re replaying songs
For our needy souls
That know
The words by heart

We’re catching glances
Of subtle signs
That possibly
Know the way

We’re easy times
Of years gone by
That familiarness
Never fades

We’re hopeful souls
Of our imperfect world
That maybe
Someday is our day

you invite her in,

as she knowingly falls into your subliminal abyss.

she gnaws on her pale pink lips,

almost violently enough to cause crimson blood to drip.

no longer is she timid,

because she’s not naive, and neither are you.

she stares up at you with those bright, yet jaded eyes,

tearing you apart as you tug at the fragile lace that encompasses her waist.

calloused fingertips graze against collarbones,

then silently discovering their way here and there.

she inhales the sweet atmosphere that surrounds,

opening her eyes just wide enough,

capturing the sullen skies that threaten to collapse above.

but the comforting familiarness in the empty inches that lie between your ribs,

make her feel at home.

I'm the gun
But you're the trigger
Set me off at any moment
And watch me explode
And leave a path of destruction in my wake.
But I guess I don't live in America
Because I have no right to bear arms
To protect my heart from being shot
By your trigger fingers,
Those same fingers
That wrap around my throat
Like a boa constricting
Tighter tighter tighter:
I don't know if it's the
overwhelming feeling of familiarness
when our naked bodies join together
like the two missing pieces of a puzzle
or the lack of oxygen to my brain
That's making me dizzy

If they could, if they won't
Steal my thoughts
That keep me company
It is like time stopped
Every thing fond of
Came to a stand still

If they could, if they won't
The stillness, the familiarness
of my surroundings
Squeeze the self into oblivion
But will they let me be

Writing is therapy
For the hollow and curious
I dream Ink Pots and quills
That is what stirs and thins
my viscous blood
If they could, if they ought
Let them know
I'm a seed

26th/August/2024

Smells like teen agony, and the familiarness stays on scarred
Away from spirits being free
Living in destinies beyond your feet
Walking paths beyond comprehension
That is all might and a symbol of peace