We wear this city on our feet
Planting our roots with each step
Our shadows

cast shapes of ancient oak trees stretching out over old squares at daybreak
We grow here

with the spirit of buildings past,
present and rising like a staircase to heaven in the distance,
the plumes of white smoke from their rooftops as burnt offerings for incense,
spires for steeples,
the bundled masses of people moving beneath as the calloused soles
of our feet pounding the pavement,
Our congregation

seated in reverant silence on the R-Line hissing to a stop
Their hushed prayers filing out from within to bring the reclaimed sidewalks of Fayetville Street back to life to join this pilgramage
They march

downtown toward Capitol
holding signs for disarmament
They bar-hop through Glenwood toasting to deliverance
They move in a blur of faces that become us,
Rush at all hours through our veins
Cross our hearts and keep us breathing,
Moving
wearing the city on our minds
like the greyest pieces of their winter sky and the way it caps the peaks of Mount PNC, BB&T and Wells Fargo like hoodies over our heads
We assume monk-like appearances
in robes color-coded by season- from blue collar sweaters to cold hard sweat
We'll wear their city until we're worn out and wet,

We'll wear their dreams at night
like streetlamps flickering on beneath wired telephone poles carrying conversations about each one as far south as Florida, fears unspoken, made visible
on iron park benches too cold to sit on at this hour
We'll keep walking

and wear this city like backpacks over our shoulders

under the watch of their heavens,
the skyline
a glowing testament
of every step taken
toward someplace higher.

i believe in a thing called love,

in toxic oxytocin tears and

jagged daggers of emotions

that hit hard and quick and deep

leaving lovers dazed and aroused

on kitchen tiles and sticky dance floors.

i do believe in love, i do,

in blood filled love potions

you put so much of yourself into it

that she just has to love you

she has to, she must,

and she does, she does,

ugly crying but ****,

for you, all for you,

please just hold on

she pleads -

mucus filled tears cascading down her face,

*******,

thighs,

pooling on the floor,

making the doctors both cringe with disgust and

simultaneously lean forward with interest

swaying in non-existent breeze -

and you die with your first kiss in your fist

and a piebald smile that splinters her inside forever

but i guess that isn't your fault, right?

i do believe in love, i do, i do,

in unfettered devotions

in ****-that-guy,

the quality relationship improvement show,

because you want to be a lover

but the guy ain't right

so just make him up

and use a real guy as his outside

you love him sanded, smoothed, buffed, painted

with rims and an inexplicable 48 inch lcd screen

you'll officially get hitched but don't cry

divorce is common and either way it doesn't matter

just look pretty and make sure to squint.

i do believe love, i do

i believe in

poisoning yourself for Juliet

rather than taking her pulse

to taking dear John's heart and

jumping on it happily

because you love him sooooo much

but like, the world has conspired against you,

not with guns and bombs and videotape

but with, like, freely made decisions,

peer pressure and jagermeister  

his blood makes pretty patterns on your

milk white thighs and i guess that

he sticks around for the show

oh boy, i believe in love, i do, that

6 and 9 aren't meant to be together

they just fit, that

there's no place for 'pure' in love cos it's all

pain and *** and spit

as for 'star crossed lovers'

the stars are always crossed

else eclipses would be boring and

each lost lover on a course

i do believe in love, i do,

in the sweetheart who lispes

licking earlobes and bottom lip biting

of metal snakes, happy fates

and piscean traits,

exuding high fructose glucose syrup

instead of saliva

so kiss them carefully or you'll

sugar high and sugar low

and sugar crash and burn

with every cosmic turn and

oh, i believe in love, lovers, oh i do, i do,

in the swirls of black and white that

play ying and yang

that kiss and grate and fornicate

forming a pasty grey

declaring that their grey is the

greyest, greatest, gayest grey

i do believe in love, i do,

bridezilla has destroyed new york in the

quest for the perfect dress as

otherwise her,

sorry,

their,

day will be ruined

milan and paris are shaking in their loius vuittons

praying they will be passed over

oh anna wintour,

just one more working day

please let the cake be next on it's list,

deliver us, oh lagerfeld, from

polyester blend shrouds in hideous off white,

amen.

but yeah,

i do believe in love, i do,

in philosophers that never tire

who'll be debating whether

kpattz, robsten, or my name for it,

sorry, them,

pattenwart,

really love each other

or are merely feeding off the media **** storm

to soothe their fragile bodies

and appease their shiny deities.

so yeah, i know what it involves

every ingredient labelled and shelved

sampled and sicked up and

given 5 star reviews on amazon

with words of advice

and i do believe in love.

i do.

oh, i do

so friends,

hold out your bleeding hearts

apply some anti-skeptic

your wounds will heal in 30 days

give or take a century.

Unborn
You were alive and kicking
one third a child and one half me
But I was half the person
I was half-dead and hurting
And now I'm half-alive, half-dead, half-empty and half-full
Alive enough to feel the dead part of me that's missing.

In this world I can never make sense of
That makes the unnatural seem so right
Everything natural lead to you, and now I'm siding with the unnatural.
I'm living with half myself and no more you
Beautiful, alive and kicking
Kicking me into the unnatural world and yourself into oblivion

You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in black and white
But nothing about this was black or white
I'm fifty shades away from the greyest grey
And I miss you. Even if we'll never speak. I miss how much you scared me. I miss my natural world. My world of alcohol and *** and cigarettes and love and me at the centre.
And I still picked me. But you're half me.

This natural world is unfair; people who want you can't get you and people who don't want you do.
Now I'm siding with the unnatural.
But it's too grey to handle, too complex
never as beautiful as you
It's mother's Day today and I am no mother.
And even in your non-existence my hair is turning grey.

What I didn't realise when I ****** the life out of you is that I ****** some of the life out of me, too.
I know you cannot feel, but I wish I could have comforted you as you became sixths and eighths and suddenly nothing to be afraid of any more.

I wish I could have held you and briefly been your mother for just a second as you left me and as you screamed.
But you can't scream.
No, you're just cells. I'm just cells.
A nervous system away from you and
cords and worlds apart.

I wish I could have gone with you to your world as I felt the artificial peace of mine when you left me in my sleep.
I think I will prefer your world to this unnatural one.

I miss you,
More than the infinite,
Timeless number,
Our hearts cannot define.

I miss you,
The waves of efficient,
Self worth you gave me.
The feeling of clarity,
You stretched out,
across the shore.

I miss you,
Now the wind has changed,
And you no longer,
See me as who I know,
I could be.

I miss you,
Being your namesake sunshine,
Now I blend,
With the greyest skies,
And you just lie,

You just lie.

Do you ever wonder, ever wish for that simpler time.
That time when life just made sense.
Where the puzzle pieces all fit together and everything was a shade of rainbow.
When your hand fit perfectly in mine and we could just walk.
Walk with no destination in mind, no plans, just our present.
When the sky was the prettiest of blues, but now it’s the greyest of greys.
I’ll be honest, I miss your smile.
Your electric, light up a room smile.
I fixated on it for so many years that it is engrained inside of me.
Its pure beauty will never leave me and in my darkest hours still brings me light.
A light reminding me that there is love in this world and that love is to be fought for.
So here I am, years later beaten and bruised, but I am still fighting.
Because the ones that make the most impact, the ones that have the most effect on you are the ones to keep around.
I still yearn for you, yearn for your light.
Every day.
Thus, I am still fighting.
Losing, but fighting.
For as long as my heart beats for yours and yours only I will fight.
Fight for you.
Fight for us.

What happens when the light goes out
When the world goes dark
What happens when you feel the cold
Settling in your heart
When the sun goes down
When the door slams shut
When that darkness
Begins to creep in
What do you say
When you have given
All you have
When you feel like
Enough
Is never enough
How do you recoup
When your world falls apart
When your skies turn grey
Faith
Hope
Love
Burns through
The darkest nights
And the greyest storms
Have faith things will get better
Hope for a better tomorrow
Let the love
Start to pour through you
Igniting that inner spark
That was inside of you all along

Picture this
A love of pure bliss
waking up in the morning to smiles and a warm kiss
Never having to worry about relationship issues
staying up all night or drying ya eyes with tissues
picture a love found and never lost
an expensive destiny but i paid for it **** the cost
my heart locked in your souls chamber of love
picture a forever with me, can you see it as pure as a dove
could you picture a dream that came true
you loving me and me loving you
imagine never having to argue or disagree
could you picture just picture you loving me
anything you need i would get it with both hands
i could be everything you desire one of your biggest fans
loving you in a way that the bible speaks about
no matter what i say love is what you hear out my mouth
i could love you from head to toe .... and toe to head
you was never pleased until you got in my bed
now that you have pictured it lets make it real
everything i speak of allow me the oppurtunity to make you feel
i will turn some of your greyest sies blue
all because i cherished, admired,adored and loved you
delete ya past its nothing to think about
i have taken over ya mind like spam in your inbox
imm giving you a reason to love something to desire
your heart was freezing cold until i sparked my fire
you dont have to picture anything else i will make ya dreams come true
all you have to do is let me thoroughly love you
let me be you reason to fantasize
help you understand why your alive
you was born into this world as one but your heart beats for two
and mines beat at your beat so our hearts beat for me and you
                                            now can you picture it

Dark, brooding storm swirling overhead
clouds, charcoal black looming
dagger piercing eyes in greyest skies
feathers fly in pelting rains
be not afraid, 'tis but
a losing game

Even under the greyest sky
Bright colors of nature come through.
So can you
Just find the strongest you.


Shell ✨🐚

i.
in an attempt to encourage selflessness, they say:
"actions speak louder than words."
actions save others but words save ourselves.
we all have an irrational desire to rescue people
but sometimes it’s ourselves that need salvation.

ii.
there are so many ways to be brave
and even more to break a heart.
i don’t know how but you managed
to accomplish them all.

iii.
it takes only a height of 3cm of water to drown
so when our children play in the shallow pool,
we never let them out of sight
but we forget that we are 60 percent water
and more people have drowned in this body
without anyone ever knowing.

iv.
if Man is measured in degrees of light
some would be the greyest of grey
because no one can tell where their
light begins and where their shadow ends.

v.
someone once asked me when did i first realise
that life was short. 10 minutes past midnight
on a March morning, when i found out that
no one could ever possibly love you enough
for you to stay
(yourself included).

Our love is
Yellow, baby.
Not red
or pink
or green.
Yellow.
The kind of yellow
that strikes
the senses
That you can’t
take your eyes
off of
Because it’s so
brilliantly
Yellow
That blossoms and
bursts
forth through the
greyest of days
and continues
to shine
even when no one is
looking
Bold and unwavering
Yellow
Admired and
fearless
bright and
inviting
Warm on the
skin. Golden,
if you will.
Delicious and fragrant
Can’t get enough of
Yellow.

Two hands in solemn judgement wring,
Twisting so 'round solid thought
And bound in letter grades is law
All heaviness and lightness nought

Pleasantry found under guise
Of intentions thick and dead
Remembered then by prisoners gone
So slowly and so wrongly led

Leave now, leave
Before it's seen
With heat in air and soot in lung
In greyest sky a sun doth gleam
And in deepest wood, a trap is sprung

Begone you deepest premonitions
As leaves do fall and seas do break
Please now: guard my sacred heart
And never let your hands it take

Should eyes not see
Should breath not fall;
no longer I in purpose wait
With heart of gold, in purpose wait
With heart of gold and love of slate

in traveling letters from you I feel that we too
could visit Barcelona, or a far off European museum
filled with righteous Athenian romances layered
with Greek sculptures. In lieu of studying
the curves of their form we’d rather find ourselves
taking in our bodies, yours being far more interesting,
forever, than those all beautiful, ivory, and headless.

When I receive Frank O’ Hara in mornings over coffee
rolling off your tongue and into a black roasted cloud;
I smell even the greyest of overcasts—- our bodies
pressing against solemn and still in some bright yellow
cab wedged between the bustling bikes and buses
of New York City. It is only appropriate because you are
as aesthetically striking as a skyscraper, because your mind
is as vibrant as every neon light guiding me like a
moth straight back into your shape.

When I receive Frank O’ Hara in our first apartment,
may it be ideal or busted, begin with one block of prose
framed against the entrance wall as the eggs cook
contrarily, its yoke the orange color of evening light.
Warm near the ashtrays centered for our guests filtering
to and fro. Small in pacts and lovely like neighborhood flowers.
We’ll press our bellies side by side, the corners of our bed
holding and map Madrid, or even further to Japan, with our
fingers tracing like constellations upon the rest of the empty
spatial plaster. Left that way for only his words and the rest
that is left between us; all that is naked and unspoken.

Please can someone help me this pain I can not bare,there's no one else around me an would they even care,years Ino it's been there buried deep inside,now I no your gone it's too much for me to hide.  I knew that you were sick big ga u fought it everyday an when I went to see u I was sure u were ok,  I need to say I'm sorry I never got to say goodbye but how could I upset u I couldn't let you see me cry.  I thought ud live forever always so big an strong to think u wouldn't b here I said everyone was wrong but the times come to accept tha they were rite an now your gone I understand the pain I feel and now no were it's from, it's because I lost my hero he seen the grey in me said that I was different knew how special I would be,I wish I could ave seen u just once more to say goodbye I have to tell you honestly my big ga could never die,and that's the way I keep it in my head you didn't die so no reason 4 any upset an no excuse for me to cry,so ga if it's ok with you the time just isn't rite I don't think that I'm ready so for now it's just goodnight I will always keep you with me in everythin I do because that's what makes me special the greyest parts of me are you      Goodnight big ga ***

I remember a lot, though there are compartments of this upper story storage house with bolted doors. There have been hours, even days spent picking at combination locks, soft clicks of medulla oblongata. From within, such malodor,  bleeds ooze and ****. Constant mopping of icky memory's seepage, trickling from underneath hatchway is unending, so I often walk away. Knowing what lies behind vaulted chambers of grey matter is indeed the greyest matter, as nothing is quite so black or white.

the bouquet of love soured, on your departure day
the coldest ever eyes were present, on your departure day

the bloom of spring's glory, lost its divine array
streaming tears flowed, sorrowful twas the day

withered, spent, finished, were the petals of May
joy's bliss in your arm's, faded into greyest shade of day

our union diminished in the pollen cup, most awful was the display
all tender feelings vanished, never could it be a lovely day

a sad wind blows on our floral tomb, sweet love lies in decay
nothing but nothing remains, what a melancholy day

Extend your hand, palm up
Silk - a long bolt of it,
unfurls across your palm
Cold on contact
And smooth
And smooth and smooth
Dragging a crisp wind behind it
As it falls away like a solid liquid

Extend your hand,
A gelatinous orb, almost sticky to the touch
But not quite.
Rubbery, resilient, responsive
Pulled under the weight of gravity
To bulge and droop over the edges of your hand
When you drop it, it hesitates as it lets go.

Extend your hand
Feel the weigh of a solid masonry cube
The greyest concrete
Each crenelation of its surface
Like a dry-skin pore
The corners and edges hold their shape sharply
Dragging fingers make a rasping sound
And a ceramic-like ring as it slips from your hand

Extend two hands together
Like to catch a stream of water
But instead you cradle
A tired and content weeks-old kitten
It adjusts its position, and curls up
Content with the warmth of your hands
You feel the soft, purring of velvet fur
It feels implicit trust, warmth and security
For its always-pending next nap.

It feels like yesterday
A dream that lingers, won’t fade away.  
Behind my past, beyond my future,  
A people that say is "over,"
I try to push it far from sight,  
But in my mind, it clings so tight.  
It won’t arrive today, but
My actions hold the key, even on the greyest day

the world is filled with endless shades
of every color imaginable
and every color never thought of.
I love the way the sun lights up the leaves
hanging from the trees, and how the sky looks
when it's about to thunderstorm.
I love the reflections on the lakes and streams
and the clear glass blue of the rushing water.
I love how green grass grows in the spring
and how orange, red, and yellow the leaves turn in autumn.
the whiteness of the earth amazes me when it snows
and blankets everything in heavy, sleepy frost.
color bursts through everything I see.
people's personalities even give off a certain shade
of who they are, where they've been, and what they are going to do.
music gives off rainbows of birds that sing their notes to the sky
and paint the clouds with wispy strokes.
even the greyest of greys and blackest of blacks
have their own palette.

half formed thoughts,
half finished lines,
breakfast  half eaten,
left on the...

half asleep,
half awake,
half dressed child,
starting today...
a mistake.

let us rewind,
to, when we were
all still abed.
then when the alarm
rings out
snooze it
pretend we are dead
at least to this
half made greyest day
and turn away
from this half formed mayhem
of  harried reality

go back, go back,
to the land of dreams
for today,
the better choice...
no half sown seams to burst,
hems to trip on,
clothes, that will not zip,
the zip on that set of pants that i must fix
no bad hair, no external rants,
about work incomplete,(half done).
no thinking rude thoughts,
about stinking heat swelled feet.
just cool linen,
pressed against my tired cheek
.. and an island
deserted... with cool breeze
and
a fridge with filled with
chocolate eclairs
and iced coffee ...
a big squishy chair...
utopia ....
see i am halfway there..
but
halfway here also
and the bell has rung.
time for these...
half @rsed musings to be done.
phones to answer, emails too
reports to analyse, lectures to
prepare,
here i am
half an hour
into the day
and already...  way..
too tired to deal....
so position.. my clock hands... at..
half way past... i don't care.

I say, status seems pychic– How! Za-zoo! And how!
O' that brain be electric as a buzz!

I'm all a'fixin' to be boxed.
These joints are a'sprainin–
Winter wind snakes done
constricted and strainèd.

Out of place. Almost out of time, I swear:
Never enough place, barely enough time.

Korean girl's all a'watchin' to see
how I sip hot tea... Out! Get out!
I got them delusions, deliriums–
All's done. I'm diluted, sayin':

“Medicine for my grievin'–
Aye, my confidence has been gone.
Never did speak of leavin'–
I met him at the ditch at dawn.”

And left unsaid was better yet,
coos all a'whisperin' by waters.
Water's runnin' thin now.
Creek's gone, ran dry.
He's a man of stature,
he can't just go!
Anthills and ant
burrows 'neath
sands gone mad–
O’ bore teeth! Yea!
Where's the meter
meeting the rhyme
when your bliss'd
metronomicist
loses pace
and dies?
Slows
and slows
and slower yet
his heart does beat
and the last of his words
do run across his teak frame:

“O' bore teeth!
Bearing ‘em all;
All is a'grinding!”

It’s but a machine to keep one’s rhythm,
to help one maintain the desired beat.

She kisses me on the forehead.
I return the gesture on her cheek.
He whispers to me through darkness:
“There are many worlds we’ve yet to see.”

It is thoughts like that which grant me focus.
Where all’s good and wishes, like prayers, be lent.

My thoughts lag behind, weighted by you.
I strain them through hot water for tea.
She watches as I drink. I waited for you–
Drank it by the ditch in the morning.

I fend off these demons in the courtyard.
Winter spells done summoned my greyest thoughts.

Here all's good! Yea, all be lent–
I tacked your name to the corkboard.
Alas, none was meant for you–
I fend off thoughts in the courtyard.

O’ that mind be broken, still-painted grey!
Not much I can do but keep the winter at bay.

three years and the wild severed
her heart from mine—

and she told me that “the air
had the brittle scent of October”

dreams parallel dreams in the shortest of hours;
we listened together for the advent of rain,
for the unfurling of flowers.

time and time lost held the fragility of her eyes;
now woven, now frayed, her caress
wondered of the fabric that holds the current
of the world…of the crisp delicacy of
tomorrow.

“love is held only by the greyest of skies” softly i replied,
for i knew
that three years and the wild had enjoined
her heart to mine.

i want to hold my hands in your hair forever
because i feel that they would be
safest there
and i want to stare into your eyes forever and read them
let me study you and breathe you in  

let me kiss your pain away
and make you laugh because darling your laugh
echoes off the walls of this empty house and for that moment
i find so much peace

tell me everything you are passionate about
the things you hate and what makes your eyes sparkle
like they do and when they flicker briefly with excitement i
want you to grab my hand and spin me around

you are this faint ray of sunshine on the
cloudiest and greyest of days
i will cherish you even after i die

With gaps between each other, so slim that only essentials
Pass through unquestioned, dunes develop before the shoreline.
Scenic transformations containing apparitions of Gaia. An
Unaccompanied portrait. Ultraviolet, not claret or tangerine,
Actively grays the skeleton beneath salinized feet. All sizes and shapes
Continue on, north or south. Sometimes pausing in place to
View courting gulls, klee-ew klee-ew, initiating aeronautic affairs.
Ballets of gusting lust; then continue on, north, or south.

Our feet pay no mind to the calcified construction; we know
Without knowledge how delicate it remains. Seasons whisper
Motherly instincts, natural as Picasso's Spanish brush, tangibly
Colorful. Cerulean and further from known sensual perception, the Distant shoreline witnesses tides climb and fall with the moon. Carrying Foreign bodies, forgotten treasures, and newer apparitions, She stood
Naked between pillars of limestone and ash. Unwavering in her gaze,
Seductive with her emerging gait. Certain on death; certain on life.

Birthed Atlantic body, unabashedly **** and rightfully so. She held life, She held death, above the frothing coast, beneath the graying skeleton of Unquestioning gaps. Her eyes remained agreeably blue, contrasted by the Objective red, dripping from her left and right. Remaining motionless, her Outstretched hands offered the reddest rose with thorns and cleanest Blade of stainless steel, sharpened with her kiss. She had no words or
Need to use them. I reached for her ****** rose and sniffed its tempting
Scent, leaving our fates in her hand. Certain with life; certain with death.

Our fortunes sealed, her life or mine, gulls klee-ewed with defining Knowledge. They know her Atlantic, the tide, the current, the cresting Waves. She does not answer for her actions or apologize for what she is. She remains unpredictable and weaponized. I have scars as proof.
Beneath the greyest skeleton, aside the ****** shore, lies knowledge of
Delicate ends. Where lusting gusts blow apparitions and courting calls.
North or South, we continue on above the dunes. Splintering planks
Kiss our salinized souls, reminding us of our mother's whisper,

"these bones do not crack with ease".

Zebras and old western movies and segregation and newspaper...
You'd like to think that I'd like to think that they are real,
But nothing is that simple.
Nothing is so fuzzy and dated and clarified.
Because he smiled as he smacked and she cried tears when she sympathized.
The world is not this or that and emotions are not happy or sad and people are not him or her.
It is not black and white or even the greyest gray.
Its saturated with colors that make me oh so dizzy and lost.
And I begged him for the answers he did not have,
And I flooded her with questions, never thinking of the consequences that came with partial responses.
I called out for peace, though the war is inside me.
Constant debates on what is wrong and what is right, but nothing
Nothing is black and white.
Times New Roman stares at me, glimmering brilliantly.
I am not two halves and they are not monsters and you are not angels.
The voices in my head are not so generous.
They would speak into crackling microphones
and tell me how unspoken language works.
They are with the times and so am I, but I am universal where nothing else is.
There are no opposites.
Nothing can help me but my refusal to accept everything as anything other than a spectrum of somethings.

I am no more than an Courier
A wanderer through life
Words are what I choose to cling to
Purveyor of the times

Spending forbidding moments in the desert
Just to watch it bloom at night
The chilling winds that blow the stinging sands
Help create that which I write

I look for answers in the greyest of skies
Where there's no limit to the powers that be
The howling wind changes the shape I'm in
That only the darkness it can see

The river that flows freely from my soul
Starts out where this life fails to end
And when it reaches its destination
The tide will rise again...

docile tones and calm streaks,
fair blues and greyest greys.

she sits in line patiently
waiting for her time to shine.
she thinks of love and passion
a moment where someone says
“mine”

she floats endlessly
through infinite time while
millions of miles away

she burns so bright and
surrounded by billions of stars
and survives on heat and intensity.