Solace comes down from the sky;
A calmly chaotic cascade,
With scattered whispers & sighs.
A delightful dance displayed.

The ground becomes satin sand,
The trees adorn in white gowns,
A peaceful hush wraps the land
To harmonize the night sounds.

"It is bleak, too cold and chilling!"
Some complain with awful groan;
But, see, that's the standard way of living
When you've spent your years alone.

Silence floods your position,
As you evade the mental cuffs
That try to blur your vision
Like the blitz of falling fluffs.

The world is calm, safe in harness.
Crystals kiss me as in love,
Melt when they absorb the warmness
That this world could not remove.

In this world falls are painless;
Frolic freely for forever
In beauty painted paintless.
Thrills triumph there together.

it’s late
or early,
depends how you
look at it,
only my hands and
heart are cold,
smoke filled garage,
rusted tools
hang themselves
in front of me,
paintless brushes,
painted brushes and
baseless screwdrivers
ashy floors and drywall
painted with holes
from fists and hockey
pucks, church pews
of razor-slit,
spray painted
by angsty young
i sit upon,
unfinished projects
are suppose to sit on
the other side of
the workbench.

You must miss me
  must miss the kiss of me
The break had to make You ache
MISTAKE

I can write now what will still be
years after You've forgotten about me

in the myriad of mirrors in my mind
  Yur diamonds shall be the sole soul shine
every bit as real and raw and radiant as the first moment
they raced and rained and raised their reign within clint

reflections refuse to fade
each an inflection of Yur voice
  a forever of Yur face
   a reminder there ain't never been noe choice

every pissant poignant poet
weaving emotion images with their words
all the cunning linguist lyricists
singing lies and lines they think you've never heard
didn't actually feel any ******* thing
knew not one iota beyond nothing
of life
of love
of living in love

pathetic paintless portraits
(tattoos on a corpse)
empty echoes of nothing notes
(dealt by the deaf and the dead)

but I bet it's not their fault
they probably never felt a real fall
a feather float race up the rapids
with the fluffy grace of rabid rabbits

Not so for this man who be me
my feather has done dancin' shakin' in anti-gravity
I have sung sacred songs as angels swum along
our feather mountain biking heaven-strong

Of course our river was an awesome flow
(a hot-tub raft in moonlit snow)
And Our Poems were always best in show guitar glow
cuz I had You to Noe

yet the Mostest WOW was not enough somehow
the Bestest LOVE of this Life is not alive now

here I am again
a millennium worse than i've ever been
fetal black rose petals
dead dull dried
all their thorns' tears cried

no light left in my once bright blue eyes
dead and drowned and dried out
  cried out
  ashen grey
  nothing evermore to say

In the times of my fragile heart, I imagine myself at a train-stop, a faraway train-stop at 2 AM, or in a country not mine, listening to the streets and Nico, wondering when it will rain next, or one block away from here at the bar with wood panels, drinking blues on a Tuesday afternoon.
In the days after I left home, where my brothers sleep on torn couches, in paintless rooms or ripped wallpaper. The dishes there were always *****. The curtains were always closed and the living-room would be coated in darkness of day. The poor kids are fine, but so far from okay.

Tear me
Out of my frame
Pastel's bleeding
Out of my veins
Canvas
Ripped to shreds over my floor
Paintless
All my lines have smudged to none
None
Not faded away just gone
Blank pages just stare at sun
All threads that were held undone