The road behind bares us a backdrop, too many nights find us fractured in our thoughts and the dreamers we once were are far from the two people who stand today.

We're broken, mere splinters of our shipwreck past, driftwood on a shore that drowns every time the ocean breathes.
The path is littered with slaughtered dreams that didn't bleed.

As time and tide wait for no man shall we find it a tragic scene?
simply erased with the sunsets demise?
No one gets away without a scar and mine speak a road map to chaos
and a found hello to you.

Mine own scars are fingertips
gouged into the sand and faded
but salted by tears of the ocean, inerasable by the tide.
A soul washed up upon the shore, a road map etched delicately into fine bones.
You can trace where I'd been before. All roads lead to your hello.

In broken lines and have uttered phrases and one too many empty night.
Backdrop of chaos does paint in the darkest colors you could ever imagine .

How does it gets so flawed by our own creations and vices my dear?
Does it still ring ever so true?

The bell rings true whispering distant voices
Empty nights are just bottles lined up as dead soldiers
We contemplated our own truths and fell victim to our own vices
The backdrop is black, no colour beneath skin.
Honestly? Where does our downfall begin?

Two ships underneath the nightscape past the spark once understood the flame and nothing more .
In empty alleys, like cats to prowl, we find our moments, and then bury our thoughts to lay for no others to see.

half written papers and half heard conversation the keys of the piano haunt the silence as myself shadows that still remain.

Nothing is but a thought and those are like dead flowers laid to waste a reflection of far better times

The night crawls to meet the day as it has so many times before.

The thought of the minds bottle lay empty upon the table.
A fond farewell is but a sugar coated goodbye.
And I seldom have minced my words to mask their sting.

The page forever bleeds.

Pages that lay scattered on a ***** floor
Bleeding ink into cracks
that will forever more
hide the spirit of our souls.

.
I cradle my head
in my palms

There's an inerasable vision
of hearts and bones
inwoven in a spider web

Untied forget-me-nots
writhing disentanglement

A collage of all the dead roses ,
tawny petals bestrewn across
a fallow frozen mind-scape ;

hidden behind eye-lid's
hesitantly arising curtain

just like a noir movie screen

I saw love disfigure me


                                                       *wild is the wind ... December 4th, 2016

The past is never too far behind:
We can never live it down
According to Doctor B . Ford
It’s unbearable:
It’s haunting, it’s inerasable:
For the victims to relived
those terrible nightmare:
in hopes that it they will go away

Somehow it never does
The worst is to see your attackers
Smiling, and moving on to higher ranks

Youth was wasted on the young,
Privilege children: overindulgence few
Not so wealth, not so wise
Today their party until dawn
In the future they wouldn’t remember
An old folks saying
What sweeten the goat mouth?
Would burn its tail end
The higher the monkey climbs
His tail becomes visible:
As you move up the ladder,
Your party buddies will grudge you
Your past will haunts you
Your hidden secret will be found:
Youth is wasted on the young,

Don’t write letters; if you can’t say it face to face, you probably shouldn’t say it.

Try empathy, it’s beautiful.

Honesty is liberating, but inerasable.

Don’t think too much, it’ll hinder everything you want to do.

Don’t fear the fear; accept it, embrace it, deal with it, use it.

Lucid dream, especially when you’re awake.

Life is long; waste time, forget plans, start again.

Above all, remember, one day you’ll die, let that be a comfort.

From time to time
attempts are made
to obliterate
what has been written before
and inscribe something
completely new
but the ur-writing
always shows through
and there we read
two inerasable
though condradictory truths
economic imperitive
and the hearts affections

In what chair was patience seated before we met?
At the long table where acquainted faces were eager to eat
we sat at each end, like king and queen and let the lines of empty dinnerware
and the cattail centerpiece divide our once linked gazes.
But I felt that wary stare peeking between leaves,
your gleaming mouth moving in vehement whisper, cursing yourself.
I see everything, but I pretend to know nothing as I place napkin in my lap,
looking past the guests beside me, into the kitchen door window.
You observe with intent, you assume my watch is bent to our friends.
Dinner isn’t ready, and everyone is restless.
I am quiet, and apologetic for the fellow who chose this venue,
because I know he probably feels no remorse, and only anger,
for the waitstaff spinning around the other tables.
Compassion isn’t a cell worth refueling for this company,
with large brains and demands, but space and time consuming bodies.
Our cups are dusty as our carpeted souls.
I see my fingerprints all over yours, through the constructed cold and cattail,
Clean, round spaces where I really knew
I touched you.
A lonely fool perked up, finally and thank goodness, drink is to be served.
How else would we last while our bellies rumbled with distaste and depravity?
I watched her pick her scabs and toss a pound of flesh to a neighboring plate.
It was yours.
You were too busy glaring at me with loan shark’s interest.
I am but a merchant who didn’t know what to sell and where to sell it,
but closed business when my ship found asylum on an island.
My visage no longer appetizer, you eat the poison on your plate.
It was an inerasable memory that the smell of cooked meat and spices interrupted.
But everyone was too drunk to remember we were hungry.
And I was too sad to order anything, anyway.
So I waited, glancing down, moved my napkin to wipe my lipstick off,
and on my lap, I saw,
Patience in between my knees, on my royal wood grained seat.
I look up, and once again, our eyes meet.

The road behind bares us a backdrop, too many nights find us fractured in our thoughts and the dreamers we once were are far from the two people who stand today.

We're broken, mere splinters of our shipwreck past, driftwood on a shore that drowns every time the ocean breathes.
The path is littered with slaughtered dreams that didn't bleed.

As time and tide wait for no man shall we find it a tragic scene?
simply erased with the sunsets demise?
No one gets away without a scar and mine speak a road map to chaos
and a found hello to you.

Mine own scars are fingertips
gouged into the sand and faded
but salted by tears of the ocean, inerasable by the tide.
A soul washed up upon the shore, a road map etched delicately into fine bones.
You can trace where I'd been before. All roads lead to your hello.

In broken lines and have uttered phrases and one too many empty night.
Backdrop of chaos does paint in the darkest colors you could ever imagine .

How does it gets so flawed by our own creations and vices my dear?
Does it still ring ever so true?

The bell rings true whispering distant voices
Empty nights are just bottles lined up as dead soldiers
We contemplated our own truths and fell victim to our own vices
The backdrop is black, no colour beneath skin.
Honestly? Where does our downfall begin?

Two ships underneath the nightscape past the spark once understood the flame and nothing more .
In empty alleys, like cats to prowl, we find our moments, and then bury our thoughts to lay for no others to see.

half written papers and half heard conversation the keys of the piano haunt the silence as myself shadows that still remain.

Nothing is but a thought and those are like dead flowers laid to waste a reflection of far better times

The night crawls to meet the day as it has so many times before.

The thought of the minds bottle lay empty upon the table.
A fond farewell is but a sugar coated goodbye.
And I seldom have minced my words to mask their sting.

The page forever bleeds.

Pages that lay scattered on a ***** floor
Bleeding ink into cracks
that will forever more
hide the spirit of our souls

What is love I asked a stranger?
What is faith in time of danger?
How do you know at end of the day
If  the one beside you will forever stay?

What is love I asked a friend?
What is faith when you‘ve reached the end?
How do you know if the feeling is true
If you should stay or say adieu?

What is love I asked my mother?
What is faith when you have no other?
How do you know when to make the turn?
How do you feel, how do you learn?

What is love I asked my father?
What is faith when life gets harder?
How do you make the rightest choice?
How do you speak without a voice?

What is love I asked my sister?
What is faith when your life is blistered?
How do you tell which one is right?
How do you sleep without a light?

What is love I asked my lover?
Do we have faith, could we recover?
Do we have hope for the time to come?
Are we believers or are we just numb?

Love is believing in the other one
Love is the light when there is no sun
Love is the potion that we all should drink
Love is the script in inerasable ink.

I find you irresistible, insatiable, visions of your body on my mind, inerasable, irreplaceable. Hair in a ponytail, eyes bright like the moon. You’re my mid-summer-night’s dream, and I’m dying to get you in between my sheets. Captivated by your voice every time you speak. I’m dying to get next to you, have *** with you, I’ve got a lot of feelings I must confess to you. But first, let me go back and change *** to love, because when I think of you, that’s all I’m thinking of. That’s confession number ONE and I’m far from done. Here’s confession number Two, thinking you, and me, and where I wanna be, and how in a few years from now we can start a family. Confession number THREE you see, is how I wanna be, together forever, live happily ever, after, through time, you and me combined, in body and soul and mind. Carry you across the threshold, through the door, to confession number FOUR. Its bubble bath by candlelight, make love to you all night, on a bed, covered by the petals of a rose so sweet. I wanna kiss you all over from your head to your feet. And I envision your body tasting like wine so I’ll take my time, and get drunk off the volume that I’d consume, highly intoxicated by the love that you provide…confession number FIVE, is thoughts of you and I in a world where our love’s unfurled. I wanna lay next to you on bed, curled, up, as we lay in the light of the moon, music playing…country tunes. As I look at your body in the light of the night, and everything’s right, and everything’s tight, and firm and round…I’m getting too excited so let me slow down…

Confession number SIX is a thought I have of giving you things, not materialistic objects like golden rings, but if you wanna fly, I’ll provide you with wings. After all, what’s gold gonna do for us, but turn to rust, you can’t even taken it to Heaven, that brings me to SEVEN. I told you before I wanna live happily ever after, but what about after-life, yes I mean death, will our love continue after our lungs lose their breath? I don’t know, but I hope so, cause when humanity’s through, I wanna move onto eternity with you. Confession number EIGHT, is how I contemplate, spending long nights thinking of a life with you, honest and true, consumed by love in all that do. Moving mountains, parting seas, just to be with you. Confession number NINE, is next in line, can’t be bound by body place or time when our worlds combine. Or should I say collide, hold on for the ride, because I’m taking you over hills and through valley lows, dinner by candlelight, music shows, picnics by sunset, spending nights with no clothes. Scented candle light flickers in the dark, shadows of our love making, caste on the wall, a testimony to the art, of breathtaking, bed shaking, back breaking, love making. Confession number TEN is last but not least. With you in my life, my life’s compete. There’s no other place I’d rather be, then at your side through eternity. I’ll be your rock, your strength, and your confidant. I’ll give you all that you need and all that you want. And when you’ve got it all, I’ll give you more. Just give a chance and open your door, to the possibilities of me and you, or you and I, or should I say us…trust me, you and I add up beautifully. Like one plus one plus one equals three. Guaranteed to stay the same, forever unchanged…a testimony to things divine. But if you can’t give me all that I ask, won’t you commit to one simple task. Let’s spend some time, you and I, together. And for that one little moment…we can be lost in forever.