brown-eyed boy,
you haunt my dream
with your golden gleam

brown-eyed boy,
i wonder if your touch is as soft
as the way you lay your eyes upon me
       [like i was fragile glass,
        and a simple whisper
        is enough to shatter me]

brown-eyed boy,
you’re neither the blues
of the deep abyss
or the viridescence
of oak leaves

brown-eyed boy,
you’re the soil nourishing me
all the riches of this earth
the oxygen i breathe

and brown-eyed boy?
loving you is like
overindulging in
honey
       [for you're so sweet
        and who am i to resist?]

-

We live in the unlighted state of America
Where what happens when we turn the lights off
Is dealt with darkness
And matters of delicate touch
Are treated with sharpness
When our only language
Is to inflict anguish
We cut connections in the bedroom
To clear our cynical head room
For contempt and judgement

People looking for a feeling to fall into
Or a reason to live
Must face frigid climates
When the public invades privacy
And ill fated ****** exploits
Pervade salacious tabloids
Our ****** regrets
Cut the deepest
Society reaps them
Sowing us together with resentment
We provide each other with relief
But not the relief we're looking for
We give each other hours of relief
Until those useless hours become days
And those fruitless days become years
That engender endless tears
As it remains warm in our car
But the winter outside freezes anything that breaks the plane
And our air conditioning only helps so much
When the spinning wheels are in our faces

There is a national coverage in the media
That presents a bleak picture of the ****** health of America
I feel I sit somewhere in between
*** offenders and a disgusted public
When I observe the observers
Who are too scared shitless to ever face their own emotions
Judge those for overindulging in their emotions
They lived their life in fear and safety
So they could be the righteous ones
To admonish the risk takers and mistake makers
Yet they are of the least value to humanity
They're the people who grade all your answers as incorrect
Without providing their perfect alternatives
While trying to erase the context
Because of what the context has to say about society
People feeling that they can never be emotionally vulnerable
Until they experience sheer desperation
And no dollar contract
Can replace human contact
Yet we give men so much money and power
And ask them to feel fine in our cold shower
Until we are soiled by their intention
A nation committed to selling Stella Artois
A nation full of Blanche DuBois

Humanity folds in on itself
When we attack with ***
Humanity does itself a disservice
By not trying to understand these attacks honestly
We forsake forgiveness
And embrace desperation
Until we become unbearably desperate
For attention
For approval
For ****** contact
For money
For validation
And sometimes our desperate desires become tangled
I'd like to think of that as love
And not a meeting between two practical rapists
That conjoin in the middle
Yet somehow come out distorted on the other side

I got drunk on life
This time, like every time
The old trick works on me
I am just happy enough
Until I have had one too many

Then everything is buzzing
Fuzzy thoughts and accurate feelings

I carry on
As if my gut still permits it
Before promising, I learned my lesson
From overindulging.

This time, I will be more vigilant
Life tastes delicious;
But I should sip gently
Unless it is yet another hungover
From decisions I could regret long after

Then everything is buzzing
Accurate thoughts and fuzzy feelings

Drink moderately, or else I will be
Easily intoxicated
On this plethora of life experience
This time, I shall only get a little tipsy.

coldshoulders abound,
the gowns gather moss
on the carpeted plains,
with a snaggletooth
and a plainface,
         I kiss your blue lips--
         I kiss your blue lips--
         I kiss your blue lips--
if you love him,
why do you spend your time with me--
if you love to dream,
why have you been overindulging on grief,
we can build a family,
a torrent,
a tree,
a yellow bird,
and three graves--
call it real estate,
call it legacy,
just call it more than it seems--

coldshoulders abound
circling like vultures,
circling around the maypole,
taste turns mundane,
so we bite with sharpened teeth,
so we pull hair with renewed vigor,
         I kiss your blue lips--
         I kiss your blue lips--
         I kiss your blue lips--
until the hot red liquid of time solidifies.

Do we need to forbear (abstain)
from doing particular activities
to optimise our joy and happiness?
For example:
Do we need to forbear
from overeating
to prevent obesity and diabetes
and optimise our health, joy and happiness?
Do we need to forbear
from overindulging in alcohol
to prevent brain-damage and liver-damage
and optimise our health, joy and happiness?

What other activities
should we forbear from
to optimise our joy and happiness?

Please
Let me sleep
Instead of memories
Playing like silent films
On the ceiling
Got the feeling you were
Always you
And therefore always the
One for me
Too early to say
And far too late
Undertaking such things
Only brings the day
Closer to me
And a lack of shutting eyes
And midnight dreams

Please
Let me keep
A inkling of sanity
Instead of constant
Thoughts of you
Like picture books
With few words
But every line memorized
And studied
Intricately
Not in fear of failure
Kind of in fear of failure
Mostly in fear of
Overthinking
Over loving
Overindulging in you
And to be doomed
To forever stare at ceilings

Blood On The Tracks**

It spoke in rhythmic transgressions, lifted from the dotted line. It held. It fell.

Polka dots made up of tiny horizontal lines, intersecting with vertical peers.

Overindulging on the semblance of fact, just to seem like they’d grown up a bit.

Self-engrossing indoctrinations to be preached out and blown over…for the rabble it was.

“When something’s not right, it’s wrong.”

Wide-eyed on sleep craved incognizance. It had all gone on too long.

They tried to force their hand, critiquing structure through the veil of a cabaret roused in the liveliest of their rooms.

Stormy shores swept to sea lit calm as the doorframe shook.

Set for a strut, intent on curbing this freshly acquired sensationalism.

Gravity logs its presence through rain dropped conviction…a steam engine sounds off in the distance...finality.

i wish i was in hell these days, burning
warmth so overwhelming it hurts
burn so severe it eliminates everything else

i want to forget this body, this lonely
that unlawfully resides within me
in raging eternal flames, that's how
i want to be forgotten
i want to become ashes, rise again
only to burn to death again
that's how i want to forget
what it's like to have skin and bones
what it's like to disguise the skeleton with fat and cellulites

i wish i was in hell these days, burning
yet all i do is hoarding, gorging, overindulging
in this cold room of a landfill, as a lifestyle
but also no, i don't live like this
i don't live at all

i want to prove the world wrong
i want to nullify your religion
i want you to know the absolute truth

i want to burn, because coldness
is how i know hell. i want to break,
because my whole is how
i become hell

hell is all in my head
hell is all over my body
hell is penetrating my every pores
because it's gaping wide, asking for it
asking to be filled, asking for anything
asking for enlargement, asking to reduce themselves
asking to perish, forcefully, painfully, then all at once