Is it possible to miss a persons chest?
The way it rises and falls with their breathing  and pulses with blood flow 

Letting you know they are alive, just as you are alive

And your timelines interconnect the way your breathing synchronizes 

You walk with your right foot forward and he trips over his foot to match your careful steps

You love to hear the rhythmic ebb and flow of whispered thoughts into your ear 

And on his chest your head is resting like the pillow you slept on last night except much more comfortable

The cold air outside gives him a chance to explore your arms and hands
and make you feel protected and loved
You feel home again even though the house you grew up in is only a block away

There’s this never ending warmth

That ignites your cold fingers with the heat of something more powerful than a comet

You do miss his chest

Your head-rest and peace

Of mind from this too-loud world

That doesn’t take a moment to hear a heartbeat

As the Sun has its place
In the clear, halcyon sky
Your mind resides here
Please don't resist to comply
Intercept each divagated thought
Interconnect with my waves
Vibe with my presentiment
Upon each other, we're slaves
"Hooked" on each other's hooks
As our conscious rocks and cradles
Sharing minds as we flutter
Animated fantasies, but no fables
I think the way you think
You coast adjacent to my vibe
Our mental surrounds each other's
Mine and yours, a dear circumscribe
We entwine as a tightly woven braid
Entangled upon a common bond
We savor of our intuitive thoughts
Your every move, I'm surely fond
Enriched with pleasurable closure
In summer's embrace, we wallow
In this psychological playground
My angel, your position is hallow
We're two minds that amalgamate
Gratified with not one discrepancy
Only our mutual brains keep subtle
A deep, infrangible, sweet telepathy..

© Michael P. Smith

WRITERS BLOCK, WHY CAN'T I SPEAK?

I've been thinking lately,
But the thing is, it's only thinking,
Speaking is becoming a rarity,
Because my voice has lost clarity,
The visions that resonate deeply,
Within the iris and cortex are simply,
Pictures that I am painting,
Using only my imagination,
The same tool that had begun,
To rust, and mold, and decay,
Into a vast vortex of nothingness,
Which would hold and lead astray,
A positive being into malevolence,
But this is the set precedent,
Due only to those whom settle for it,
Because complacency,
Ruins whole communities,
But this community is not a hood,
This community also not a suburb
But a street that cannot be freed,
You cannot struggle through it,
While trying to feed your baby,
With old food bought via EBT,
It is a street without a name,
It doesn't go two ways,
It's not bi nor ****, it is multiple
Inter global, and international,
It is the spark that starts life,
Coos the fires that fuel dreams,
Fires that give off thermal energy,
But also spiritual energy,
As it rips and roars through,
Internally, within my body

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

I'm talking about the word of mouth,
The power of a piece of glass,
Falling deep into the depths, down
Sinking into darkness,
No longer shining, but reflecting,
Because shine comes from within,
But that light has dimmed,
And it has gone out into the world,
Searching for a new hymn,
Accompanied by a new tomorrow,
Because the glass had begun,
To shift it's drift in the middle,
And as it fell it only showed others,
It's supplanted it's own fears, tears,
In order to reveal to you, you
This revelation coming from sacrifice,
is suffice to entice,
A parallel mind to intertwine,
It's views and thoughts up a vine,
Becoming a great interconnect,
A train station for thoughts,
Not allowing for it to be kept inept,
As it makes it's stops and it's mark,
Across the universal plantation,  
Revolution will be fiercely fought,
Whether through riots or protestation,
it's all up to you,
But the wills of a collective group,
Will always overthrow the wills of a few,
for this is my temperate love,
Derived from my temporal lobe,
Occipital visuals are critical,
To reach a pinnacle that bares individuals,
that live reciprocal,
Towards ideals and ideas potential

I CAN'T MAKE CONTACT!

No one is hearing me, thoughtlessly
Because no one is listening,
This includes me, sadistically,
As I have yet to speak,
Due to the passages searched,
And a worth claimed of its worth,
My sandy grains will not form,
Together to create diamonds,
But will act more so as pollution,
"Why pollution when you haven't even spoken?"
This is the problem, it is not speaking,
Communication is a basic foundation,
Foundations form the largest infrastructures known to man,
Family, Business, Religion
And these are all inflamed by love,
Love of others, love of God, love of self,
it's this help that propels,
It propels lives forward,
and encourages the brave voices to be heard,
and act as many birds
To soar against the crushed sky,
To hold the thunder accountable lending more context to your content, the expressions expressed,
The words that flow like air conditioned through a vent,
A coup d'état that circumvents,
The issues, issues with my tissue,
Because the idea of not being able to speak... Makes my skin crawl

From the inside out

Moving between my legs,
Left, right
Moving between my sides,
Left, right
Moving between my arms,
Left, right

And finally falling from my mind,
Past my brown eyes,
To reach my throat then run,
And glide off of my tongue

Crushing your previous ideologies.
Blasting through your intuitions,
Destroying any technologies,
Devastating your direction

Words pass through me
Words enter through you
Worse pass through me
Words enter through you

The streets have shots
Well I have writers block

And at the moment,
I can't think
And at the moment,
I can't speak

I just want to know...
What's happening to me?

My love is like a spring.
Trickling from the core of the earth,
pure, uncontaminated and original. Just love,
and nothing less, nothing added, nothing fake.
It gushes out at the end as a great water fall,
with every single drop unveiled to sunlight,
forming an everlasting rainbow ~

My love is like a rainbow.
Purple and violet over bickering and disagreements.
Blue when you're gone and green if another looks at you.
Yellow, orange and red with affection, ecstasy and bliss.
Colourful, vibrant and dynamic; subtle yet,
painted across the sky for everyone to see.
Beyond the sea all the way to the horizon~

My love is like the sea.
Very much alive and providing life,
stretched across the whole of the earth.
Deeper than the tallest mountain, and endless.
Storms of passion and whirlpools of emotion,
Rocking everything within it's grasp, only
to reach a tranquil standstill, nirvana if you may~

My love is like attaining nirvana, but not.
Instead of freeing myself from earthly attachments,
I long to be reincarnated just to relive this life,
again and again with you, the centre
of my spider web of soul, from which
strands of joy to content erupt and interconnect,
to which I'm blissfully and willingly stuck~

Possibilities
Utopia can be found in borderless circles that interconnect traces are discovered in ancient England’s
Legends and lore King Arthurian Isle of legend Avalon hid within the mist at a distance is Camelot for in
These lighted climes your guide for the journey alone exists his common name is imagination but royal
Has been his reign nothing is found without his essential hand at the core and center of all places
Fantasy and real one central man is observed in this writing best described as mellow a soft spoken
Man the tiniest hint of sounds quietly rushing over gentle hills his passing caused blackest storm clouds
To render his beloved helpless empty and heartbroken for a length of time this power raged tears
Flowed Unbidden it bespeaks of early times when dating they set close in the car as they drove laughter
And Love emerged from simple visits made to home of friends or going out to eat and places of interest
Familiarity gently exposed hearts and souls that quickly were being knit together in strong unbreakable
Bonds a legendary song is seen in its deepest meaning you can lean on me the rush of life brought much
Happiness but in the first graying of life the mortal was made immortal now waves more pure than
Angel’s breath comes in the silence once detested now it holds the very essence of the beloved when
The home is still and lights are low know not it’s not the pillow that holds your head but the strong
Shoulder that many were the times comfort washed over you like the kindest stream mossy grass with
Blades of sunlight striking ever so deftly your face and hair in his smile you know he was enthralled by
What he saw, evenly you glowed words not necessary when richest feelings pass between lovers now
With morning light blissful you catch the happenings of the day values crested and crowned playful
Is the note that is struck none of time wasted in these severe tomorrows turn aside your mind the
Storehouse every memory is your possibility for regained laughter and renewed love boundless as the
Breeze you alone are its creation shape it fit it to the moment you’re in make it a dance that is slow and
Close feel his closeness every pore of your being engaged the magic will charge the room and reach to
The unseen his arms are about you there he follows the exact movements you are making worlds to
Collide especially in the Camelot of enduring love that defies everything but true heartfelt imagination.

snapshot memories
lay scattered in silence.
An abundance of unclean
and hazy lives interconnect
before me, dodging and weaving
in disarray
some overlap
and others steer far apart,
but all are destined to be something.
And far apart from these, my life;
a torn edged, blurry photograph
lies in the middle,
moon light burns its edges
and sunlight fades its image
wind and rain thin its paper
but still it remains;
with possibilities beyond
what i or anyone else can imagine,
and so i sit from afar
gazing at this wonderland..
this ancient ritual of connections
that we call life,
teary eyed at its condition
and in this
try to find comfort in my
constant confusions.

Touching the edge of the ocean,
Avon-by-the-sea nestles
it cloak of secrets
pressed on the faces of its residents
that reside in their humble abodes.

After somersaulting through life,
a man by the name of William watches
his grandchildren tumble
through galaxies of vivacious imagination.

They roll around in the painted
grass, flying through the
tainted sky.

If only he could join them.
Words of glossolalia spurt
and spill out of his mouth as he try's
to spit out the endearing words,
"I love you," to his wife
standing beside him.

He turns to her, and her eyes began to
bloat with pellets of liquid despair.

Shamelessly he turns his head
down. She quickly entangles their fingers
together. Like a puzzle piece, they interconnect
perfectly. The silence continues on..
but the love remains.

Love me tender
Love me sweet......

My lips were dry
But you moisturized them
With your kisses.

I let my body go upside down
Only because I was in your arms
So there was no falling.
But perhaps I am falling.

Perhaps I'm dragging you with me.
But is that so bad.

Our legs go perfectly intertwined
My ***** sits well in your concave
My breast fall gracefully on your chest.
And our minds interconnect.
I think we fit.

So continue to....

Love me tender
Love me sweet

Faith is like breathing.
You can rest assured that
no matter what you are doing,
your lungs will keep on
drinking the air and
carrying oxygen through your blood and to
every last vestige in your body.
Give up trying to control it,
as it will do as it pleases
regardless
of your attempts to slowly **** yourself or
extinguish all ambiguity and randomness
in the world around you.
Control out of chaos?
Your eyes waking up in the morning is chaos.
Each lash bending
slightly in proportion
to every other lash it is connected too.
We are like plants,
where our roots interconnect and
stretch back further than
recorded history to a time where
we planted the seeds
in fear
that our family would splinter and
mutate into a massive **** of
imaginative constructs like
nations and creeds
which we knit so tediously into
every new idea or situation that attracts itself to us.
Like mirrors to the world,
our eyes only reflect
what they have been shown.
Both in distorted waves of fantasia and
in clear pictures and representations of
our fragmented pasts.
Our memories are jigsaws,
putting them together only to realize
that the reward looks nothing like
the picture we thought we were building for ourselves.
No matter how dark and dismal some pieces may appear
they are only there to keep us from
going blind in the light.

I want to interconnect my soul to running water and rain and thunder
I want to feel electric shock waves of relief every time there is lightening
I want to crave sunlight on my skin after I take off the dark cloak of night that wraps around my body when the day breaks
I want to become weightless so I can take a nap on a leaf on a branch of a tree and find a home with the place that always knows how things go
I want to build a leaf house and forget about the world that kicked me out
I want to have a never ending love affair with those little ***** of rain leaking from the sky
That could be recycled dinosaur dragon sweat or the tears of Jesus and I want to revel in the possibility that the world can bring me
Away from the world that left me out

I am not micro soft
I have full access
to excel
as a publisher

My outlook
does not sway
I am a hot male
Let's interconnect

Paint a picture
from my visual studio
It's in the works
do you see my power point?

I have more than one drive
There are teams of forums
that share one note
inside my power shell

Time to connect
at the edge
I azure you

Lets groove to the music

WORD!

Don't judge a book by it's cover
My life's an open book,
From the intro to the index,
Every page is a phase,
some paragraphs are laughs
with sentences of pain,
Illustrious  Illustrations
Can be interpreted in varied ways,
If a million people read it
A million different angels,
Each increment is instrumental
Essentially a tangle,
Web world wide,
Interconnect the internet,
seven degrees
of separation have now become five,
Or maybe even four,
If you want to hide something
Put it in a poem,
so,
Don't **** the messenger
My job is to push the envelope!

It’s all ******* bits and pieces this existence of ours while we ride this ever spinning crazy world we inhabit, that’s just the thing, even if we are complete ******* it just keeps on rolling through the cosmic plane, the penny you left on the train tracks derails the railcar full of medical supplies for sick dyeing orphans, you wipe your genitalia on the boss’s keyboard knowing that in time his face will smell like *****, unloading your loneliness with displacement on the little blue hair taking too long to count change at the grocery check out.

It  doesn’t matter, none of it ever matters, the world’s not going to stop, not even going to slow and pause for breath, and nobody cares about your problems. But sometimes you find someone, someone so incredible special, someone who seems to understand, someone who really gets you, and for a little while its better, we can lie there in the dark and promise never to leave each other, we have someone to hold onto, someone who proves we exist, at least for a little while anyway.

It’s how you interconnect these bits and pieces, these singular moments into the mosaic of your reality.

Dreams stealing my reality I’m unbeknownst
Sleeping,
she creeps into my realm of make-believe
Her hands interconnect with mine while the eager winds howl like coyotes
We look deeply into each pupil and she says,
Your soul is beautiful as the glowing seas at midnight
I could hold you until every star in the universe explodes
I would wait eternities to be with you
I’d battle giants or travel stary oceans to hold you near
Just take my sorriest thoughts and let me forget
Make me sanguine, lost in time with you

She walks into a glimmering flower bed with the morning chorus ringing
Stepping barefoot on arching shining blue grass cushioned under her toes
The meadow scents whirling with the botanical humming of insects
She sees me once again
Sitting in the shadowy embrace of a tree
As the sun shining a million times brilliant, brings godly light to her path.
Her rhythm of voice comforts me
A soprano serenading making planet life dance with awe
Our eyes meet across the multicolored plane
I stand up
Cheering smiles heighten for miles
A clarity of something gorgeous
Flowing hair smothers touching faces
Butterfly kisses in the field of organic aura glowing
Sweeping you off your feet into plumes of clouds blanketing overhead
We lay into the germinating grasslands in imaginative solitude
Feeling the pulse of hearts and our blood rushing in love.

Night falls and celestial bodies are seen deeply engrained in the sky divinely painted
Voids peaking out from darkness frosted with elegant designs of ancient filaments
Supported by forceful invisible strings and elegant rivers of stars, blues yellows and reds
I hold her closer as the dream begins to fade into obscured fantasy

She waits in my subjective reality
my mind gently diminishes the pixels of her image
I caress her face cursing my admiration in the precursor of the ending chimera
A fixation which corralled seemly from nowhere coherent
I glared into her darken umber eyes grasping her pearly skin
As the reverie ends
I'm speaking her name as the crisp morning chorus chatters at my window
Eyes open

In the shadows of the Island
The moon killer on the prowl
Trio of eccentric professors
An echo of a howl
Turn out the light and interconnect
The mysterious Dr X

A technicolor ****** scene
See the bizarre experiment
A creepy lab, a fiendish killer
An evil development
He waits to see who is next
The mysterious Dr X

A group of strange wax figures
The victim bound to a chair
Peculiar feeling of cold mechanism
In a Gothic horror nightmare
Who is the killer suspect
The mysterious Dr X

‘How many hairs on the palm
of your hand?’ my father used to ask
waiting to note, whether I would look.

‘None!’ gullible little me would reply
as he smiled asserting the quest
was in itself indeed the first

sign of madness,
to my bittersweet disappointment.

Little would he know then, that years
later growing up I would no longer search
yet would suffer as it happens from

mental distress,
to my tortured existential struggle.

Learning to hide hints and symptoms
of derangement I would confide
only to my Self, beloved faithful ally,

thereby exhibiting the second sign
solaced by Aurora to believe it was fine
whilst enjoying the conversation.

A dialogue between the many versions
of Self unfolding, for me to discover ego
laughing to my jokes, caressing my cheeks

whispering words of soothing power,
sympathising with endeavours
clement with my limits, coaching me

to courageously strive
to surpass them.

Counting stories of imagination
which would later be written
by my hands holding fountain pens

pouring ink on mute white papers,
a life of insanity within which
reason finds its peaceful abode.

As I now look around and observe
all the sane normal people who neglect
listening and talking to themselves,

I realise that my soliloquy engenders
a unique blissful bond, whereby
the trillion pieces composing me all

interconnect soundly rooted
in essential loving accord.

I hate the way my mind works
How the wires interconnect and process information
I hate the way getting out of bed proves to be difficult
I hate how I’m down rather than laughable
I hurt in silence
I’d sometimes like to vanish
To never exist again on this planet
I hate how my mom looks at me with disappointed eyes
And I internally cry
Or when my dad had a bad day
and comes home with nothing to say
I run upstairs and hide away
but deep down I’m scared
I have no talents
No more love to give
Almost 19
But still stuck feeling like a kid
why did the Oklahoma storm take my happiness away
Why have I gone through so much up until today
Why do I feel like I’m given the knife
And given the choice to take your life or mine
Why do I act so mean but know I’m kind
Since February
My thoughts have been scary
Haven’t felt sublime
Haven’t felt the same
Since he left me so blind
Maybe you were my breaking point
Felt it in my joints and in my heart
You laughed and faked your tears
As you watched me fall apart
I’m too much for friends
Was too much for him
Maybe too much for you
So I stay alone inside my room
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I’ll try to be somebody
I’ll try to work
Stay motivated
Make money
I’ll clean up myself
And all the mistakes I’ve made
But I’ll never forget
How far I’ve came
I’m a hero within myself
A force to be reckoned with
A storm that’ll come more than once
a person you’d not want to miss
Though I’m not the best at times
I still want to be a good guy
Be a good son
Have a good job
Live a good life
That’s simply all
Maybe I’ll die alone
Maybe I won’t achieve my goals
But I know
In the end
I’ll be alright
And I’ll reflect
And never forget
How far I’ve made it
With the demons in my head
And my mind always racing
And chasing me
I’ll find the happiness in the dark
I’ll hurt in silence for now
And get through the hardest parts
Alone
Searching for my happiness
And a new place inside my head to call home

a seclusion in your bed of chasing unfinished ends, you are not just another one.
ive never heard silence so loud as it echoes through these marble hills.
with a countless loss of dopamine yet if you are doing fine, ill do my best not to intervene.
seeing you, i have to hold it in and put up a wall to not interconnect our arms.
looking at ourselves in your mirror as my eyes dont even match up to yours anymore, following your voice which makes it harder to not trace back to our course.
i know im going to far,
as im only showing my love for you through art.
the mist from the sky falling delicately on your face, envying the times where that was my place. (8:59 pm)

Our fingers interlace
Our lips interlock
Our legs interweave
Our bodies interact

Our ideas interchange
Our interests interlap
Our dreams intersect
Our minds internal

Our desires interlayer
Our emotions interpretive
Our silences interpersonal
Our souls interconnect

My mouth is filled with words
My heart is flooded with grieve
There are lots I want to say
But fear grips me
Will they be willing to listen?
Their ways are crowded with deceit
Their ears cocked with lies
Their paths are blocked with insunuations
Ignorantly, they dance to their pit of distructions
Carelessly, they drink to their dooms yard
With my pen as a poor poet
I write my warnings with fear
Carefully, I choose the way
I weave my words
Cheerfully, I interconnect my thoughts
To my hearts
And if they choose to listen
I win
If they dont,
I have done my part
There is nothing like losing
Never say regrets