Never once have a smoked a cigarette,
But I have this longing desire to feel one across my lips.
To breathe in the warm air that will fill the emptiness in my lungs.
To see the puff of smoke kaleidoscope around my face.

Now, I am aware that performing this activity shortens your life.
But, I'm willing to give time in order to feel warmth inside of me that I have not had the ability to feel in quite some time.

"We're all gonna die. We're gonna die, Alex. In the end, life shortens, and we're gone. Thats why we do things that makes us feel alive."

I

  Tomorrow waits in the dried plant bones
splintering balcony karma
          next to the ****** galatic twilight.

Moon poems paralyzing yonder
                    one color chess matches on transcended leather
     --thigh laughter        buried alive in rubble
                                                        under fifteen cushions of red flesh.
Let's go wave our bottom banners undying
in the realm of lifetimes and its spontaneous chases.

                    Plethora inhales
from one-legged warlords under fragrant wash pillars
obstructing the pilgrimage
                               of wrapping my stranger
around a blade. The second blameless pantheon
                                           of Christianity.

II

put down the flowers,
        thought scars
from a thirsty delusion
   that taste the industry instruction
            deep in meditation spoons
that pierce the sides of students. Heaven rains/angelic *******
on the obscure sail drifting towards the horizon
--a mad-religious shape
from the bottom banners undying

III*

                                                           there isn't even the smallest incense
           that the earth's door shortens,
                                  an attempt in debt
        to defame the impregnable summer
with washroom axes
                    on the grape's night before you and I snap.

They told him drinking is bad for him
He told them nothing is good for you
They told him that smoking can **** him
He said it can actually cure him
They told him the drugs won't make him forget
He said that he wanted to remember
The drinking is to remind him to smile, the smoking shortens his life, but the drugs. Those drugs helped him remember all the happy times so he would not only remember the pain

There is a thief who lives with me

A thief that steals constantly
He steals my sleep my time and my peace
He saps my strength and shortens my reach

There is a thief who lives with me

He steals my hope and shortens my days
He runs his hands along my spine clenching and twisting and he smiles
His reach extends from my spine to my eyes locking me in his vice
He wraps my mind in his dull red haze and he makes me stupid and vile

There is a thief who lives with me
We battle every day every hour waking sleeping
There is no time when he is not a constant companion
He keeps me spinning in bed searching for a place of rest
Every hour it is He that controls my work and my play

There is a thief who lives with me

I try to seal my world from him
I stuff the cracks and bar the doors
Dark the windows and stopper the gates
He finds me no matter

There is a thief who lives with me

But he knows me well, this thief of mine and soon he's found the cracks
The chinks in my Armour he knows so well and soon his art he racks

There is a thief who lives with me a companion old and wearisome
There!! You see he comes stealing minutes and hours
My thief of days

My Pain

Solita _2007

"But he shall never know who I am!" Nicotine said in total desperation to her noxious best friend. "You don't understand, you never felt what I'm feeling!" Nicotine pulled away from her friend and ran downstairs
"You will get caught" Lela shouted trying to talk her sense out of it. "What if you got caught?"
"Then I shall be punished for this love but I refuse to regret trying to have it." She wore a jacket and a baseball cap and took off.


Nicotine wasn't a normal girl, she wasn't like Lela or girls in her age. In fact, she wasn't like anyone ever.
She was very brave and creative, dreamy but she makes it happen. She doesn't care what people might think and she doesn't like rules. She grow up with merother and both brothers, her dad died with surgery complex of  adjustable gastric band when she was 13; and he told her before he took the breath of his death "don't ever change, don't be like me. Change them without trying. Just be you, they'll follow! And never chase love, love will find you." And she never lived by any rules except for those.
She was the youngest among her brothers yet she was the strongest emotionally, physically and the brightest mentally. Nicotine never understood why the world decided to be a man's world when she is a woman and better than a lot of men!

Nicotine was a strange girl that wouldn't let anything stop her. And nothing stopped her indeed.
Until this one time...

She was 17 years old when she met a boy. Travis was his name, Travis has traveled from his school to hers and they met in English class. The only seat available was next to her so he sat there. For three seconds, there eyes met and Nicotine never been that much hooked. She was straight forward and hate the games. So by the end of the day she asked Travis out.
"Sorry, I don't tend to be rude but my sister died few months back and I don't feel like being around girls."
Nicotine flustered when this time, she didn't know how to get what she wants. She smiled and waved goodbye.
She wouldn't lose hope and she was determined to be Travis best friend! But Travis never showed on the second day of school or the third. Travis never showed up again as if he disappeared with fresh air up the mountains where people lose their way back in the forest.

Years went by but Nicotine never had forgot his details...

The way his long brown darkish hair flew unlike mainstream. Dark skin tone with black wide eyes. Even though Nicotine was 5,9 feet considered tall, Travis was almost 6,4 or something.
There have been nights when she dreamt of him hugging her tight telling her "wait, don't leave. I'm coming" or the times when she sees him everywhere and never been able to love anyone as half as the love she feels for Travis. Some nights she thought, maybe... Just maybe I love him too much because he is the one who left not the other way around! But most nights, she dreamt about way long French kiss.

One day she was walking down the streets on her way back from college. She is a senior now and a vergin.
Nicotine was in her usual bubble listening to her IPod music when she saw him again.
She wasn't sure at first. His hair was shorter and she didn't recognize the smile. But those eyes and the skin tone. **** it, she can't let him slip again.
"Yo, Trav" some whiteish guy across the road yelled to him.
Trav? Trav? He said Trav? What's the short name goes for????¿¿¿!!!¡
"For the million times dude, its Travis. Never call me Trav" Travis flicked the white guy forehead. "Whatever, u going to Delphic tonight?"
"Yep, best arcade ever!"
Nicotine stood still for awhile, losing her ability to control her lungs. Shortens in oxygen. Her mouth was all rusty and words too little. Suddenly she started running home as fast as she could. Called her best friend and told her about her plan.

That's when Lela started to be noxious.

"Okay okay, hold on" rising her hands up to shush me "you are going to the Delphic arcade across the city tonight to stalk a guy you have been in love with-one sided- for years faking that you are a guy?" She paused. "That's so normal, nothing weird about this." Laughed sarcastically
"You don't need to understand" said Nicotine.
It almost felt as it she's mourning "why are you doing this please I need to understand?"
Nicotine was racing the clock trying to get ready to be the coolest guy. Wig of short hair? Done. Thick eyebrows? Done. Guys shirt? Done. Jeans? Done. ******* corset? Done. She was very sure he is the one. "I don't know how to explain all the feelings I have for this guy. But one time I was a girl and he turned me down because his sister died months ago and then disappeared! Look at me, Lela! Do I look like a girl to say no to?"
"All this trouble for a revenge?"
"Of course not, its a give in to my heart"


Nicotine arrived at 9 pm sharp. She doesn't know is Travis here already or not but she doesn't waste time and she starts looking for him. By a pinball machine Travis stood next to his friends and the white guy she saw earlier. She knew no time should be anymore wasted.

"Excuse me?" Said nicotine in loud, stiff and sharp voice
All the guys turned around of the pinball looked at her. Except they weren't looking at a girl but a handsome guy.
"I've lost my phone and I think my friends left, can I use one of you cell phone?"
"Sure" Travis said first. Pulled his cell out of his ripped jeans pocket and handed to me.
"Thanks, won't take long"
Nicotine pulled herself aside and started pretending that she is talking on the phone by calling her cellphone voice mail. Next step, spend some quality time with Travis!!
"*******, *******!!!" Nicotine shouted through the phone and close the line dramatically groaning.
"U ok?" Travis grabbed nicotine by the shoulder.
"Yeah." Nicotine paused "I need a ride home"
"I can give you one if you like." Travis blushed. "Do you need to leave now?"
"No, I can stay for a while more.... I'm nicotine" we shook hands
"Travis... Don't ever call me Trav. Nicotine as THE NICOTINE?"
"my dad was big fan of the 70's rock bands, I happen to be a sin" Nicotine leaned closer while still grabbing his hand then she whispered "btw Trav, I never play by the rules"

Travis stood there, studying Nicotines face like a map dotting every detail as if he planning to get an A+ on geography. "You're... Different" Travis murmured.
Nicotine grinned.

They've spend days and days having fun going out for ice cream or movies. Concerts and jams. Late night phone calls and early breakfast making. They never talked a out girls which was odd to nicotine but she was relifed Travis didn't like any girls around.


They were on a hill laying down gazing at the stars in the middle of an afternoon sun. It was one the weird games they played that nobody understood.
"Listen" Travis said "I need to tell you something"
Nicotines heart pounded "listening but whisper"
Travis took a moment before he spoke again. "I'm gay." Travis sounded edgy. "I'm gay for you... Don't bail on me I love you,
nicotine. Kiss me"

In a matter of a second nicotine lost all hope for words all hope for love and all hope to forget this love that now has been so close to be reached. She got up and ran away. But this time not home. She ran to the cemetery where her dad laid...

She was caught up between telling him the truth or go get a transgender surgery. But she was afraid if she told the truth, he could never love her like he loved nicotine the guy. If she told the truth, he could not forgive her for the lie she told. She lived. Nicotine was torn in front of her dads grave and wanted for angel of death to come and take her soul. Just for a day or two. Just for a while, until Travis forgets. Until she forgets. Before this, ever have been done by her.

"Why are you crying?" A voice shifted nicotine's mind from lost to found. "What are you doing here? How did you find me" she said.
"You told me, that's where you go when things go wrong." Travis tenderly spoke, sat next to me. "Have they gone wrong?" He said.

Nicotine was trying to control her sobb "yes." Wiping her tears with her arm "I didn't mean to go so far"
Travis stared and stared and looked at nictone in a way she couldn't read his face. "There is something I should tell you" nicotine whispered frighteni for the first time in her life since her father died. "Speak" Travis whispered while his forehead clicked to mine.
Nicotine froze as soon as she felt his skin on hers. She closed her eyes not wanting to look at the disappointment in his eyes. The frown on his face. She couldn't focus when she had his breath on her face. She didn't know how to begin, she didn't know how to open her rusted mouth. "I..." Travis pulled nicotine closer placing both of his hands on the sides of her head and kissed her. Kissed her like he never seen lips before. "I know." Travis said.
"What?"
"I'm 25 years old, don't you think I'd know a girl when I see one? Specially a girl I wanted to kiss the day I met and thought I've lost for good"
Nicotine crocked a smile and rushed to his rough lips. Biting the lower lip as if she never kissed a guy before. It wasn't just lust or the need for ****** *******. It was craving to touch a skin you adored. It was listening to your favorite song alone in the dark. It was comfort that made love.
Travis slowly pulled her away "why did you fake to be a guy?"
"I was afraid to lose you again if I was a girl if you had a lover." Embarrassed nicotine spoke her words. "I'm sorry, I love you. Don't leave."
"You're nicotine... And I'm heavy smoker seeks death if it means to die by your love"

And that's how Romeo and Juliet died of lung cancer. Just kidding. They died with poison

u emerge from the smoke
and merge within again

i ask myself
if you're the same person
inside & outside the smoke

are you?

the haze turns purple
findin yu, gets harder
my rovin eyes..get
not a moment of rest
findin yu &
buildin stories..

distance shortens
between me to yu..
m 'ere
yet i feel
your warm breath
on my cheek..

there are moments
when i want to go
actively insane
this is one such

i can't help myself
can you?

The inevitable will wait
I will remain whole as I greet,
as I recount my days away,
as the road to home shortens,
as I sit through dinner.
It wont hit me until I'm alone.
My teeth brushed,
good nights are said,
and covers pulled.
That's when it will strike.
When I realize just how large my bed has grown,
or perhaps I've gotten smaller?
Did I drink a rabbit's potion unknowingly?
Maybe I left a limb with you,
and these phantom pains settle in late.
On the verge of sleep
when we are too tired to fight of the gravity of reality.
An ache resides somewhere in me;
     my arms to hold you
     my legs to tangle in yours
     my lips to kiss you
     my heart I've gifted to you.
My blood lacks its motivation in my veins
and therefore, so do I.
Cocooned in my comforter
but to no avail.
These pillows do not hold the warmth of skin
and do not have arms to hug back.
I have grown used to your lullaby,
heart beats sang me to perfect sleep.
Now only stillness and the sound of a busy world
ignoring this pain that I silently bear.

Time shortens
like the fractured legs of a runner
accidentally propelled by the laws of physics
to decelerate like frozen matter.

The uncertain quantum leap from now to there
has no healing properties
just a void
a black hole of despair
swallowing up memories and joy
that even my little daughter
can only temporarily prevent....

She say's "I love you Daddy"
and I think about my own father
and the love travels like the
search for extraterrestrial intelligence
that goes unanswered
not because there isn't any,
but because we're never here long enough
to receive the answer.

the gazer, he is called.
he calmly watches the world around him.
he analyzes threats and joys.
he sees clouds, sun, planets, and people.
but this one stops him.
this thing.
it stops him. and it stops his heart.
this one, different thing...

first a description:
he is nothing miraculous
funny, because i love him
that, in itself is not a miracle.
for love is easy. it's blind and cruel.
but this...this feeling
whatever it is....it is unworldly.
this one, different thing...

here's the poem, here's some lines,
i'll try to make sense, i'll try to rhyme.
here is a special few verses
for the special man who nurses
not mine, but our weary souls.
this one, different thing...

-begin-

his past is as dark as his hair,
heart as light as his eyes are fair.
he is smart, but no genius
he is strong, with no meanness

he has a name which gives him no favors,
his voice is a sound that never quavers.
his family, a gem
not of glass or stone,
but one of him,
one of home.

to be polished and cleaned,
shined til it gleamed
scratches run deep
as it's surface will weep

but family, none-the-less
a gem, but i digress.
this is for him, not them.

he is taller than i,
he sees but is blind
but when i come to mind,
i open his eyes.

in a flash i arose, i shot through his sky
i lit up his world with my light and my try
i'm a once-in-a-lifetime
i'm a half-witted rhyme
i'm a comet, you see
flying alone and flying free.

but this flight was different.
every pass 'round the sun, i grow weaker.
my tail shortens, my ice is spent.
my voice becomes meeker.

as i shot by above the earth's sky
i spied with my little eye,
a man.

i've seen many men.
i've seen planets.
i've seen rocks.
i've seen just about anything a comet can see.

but this man. he stopped. and he looked.
right at me. right through me. right through me.
i may have been wrong, i may have mistook,
but when i saw him, i saw me, i saw we.

i'm not the only comet he's seen
but i am the brightest.
the time he's spent on earth
with rocks so mean,
they make diamonds look weak
(like the ones on her hand)

but i am the brightest.
i'm the cleanest, i'm the rightest.
that's why we froze in time.

but for a moment,
a fleeting, shining, bursting moment in time.
he made me want to stay.
he made me want to lay
on earth.
with him.
forever.

but this is not the way of comets.
we come and we go
we shine and we glow
but we never stop.
we never halt.
we never drop.
we don't show fault.

but this man, he stopped me.
my orbit slowed
my heart showed
i stared and i lingered
i grasped for his fingers.

he dragged me down to the hell on earth
we danced and we sang and giggled with mirth.
this man and i, had this thing.
this one, special thing.

but, as the way of comets, i desired to leave
i wanted to fly, i wanted to believe
that i had a choice, i had a say
in my present and my future day.

not true, not true, not true at all
this man made me stumble, this man made me fall.
he held me down and stole my flight
i begged and i pleaded to only his delight.

i am no longer a comet, bright and flashing
i am a rock with an icy core
but a heart still dashing
evermore, evermore.

he took my sky, my light, and space
but i had my heart, just enough to save face.
i still love him to this day
i love him and i will stay.

he melted my outer layer while freezing my soul
but i am still me and i will recover in time
his wedding ring lies on the counter in a bowl
and i'm here waiting to make him mine.

september can't come a day too soon
he's cheated, he's lied his way to the moon.
but he's here now, today, this moment in time.
he's honest, he's changing, and soon he'll be mine.

i trust and i believe with every fiber of my being
that we were meant to be, just the time will be fleeting.
wrong time, wrong place
there's nothing we can do to change the ways of fate.

this is how it will be.
he will walk away and i will be free.
i can wander, i can fight, i can die.
he will live, he will work, he will lie.

some things change and others do not
i accept him as he is and love him with all i've got.
there is that one special person that you never forget
he is mine in this lifetime as she was his, which i regret.

i wish it was me. i wish he could see.
i wish i was there. i wish life was fair.
but years separate our bodies and we
will never be one even if we did so care.

wrong time, wrong place
we were never meant to be.
but i will love him and he will love me.
soon we'll separate just to save face.

time will pass and nature will weather our core
our minds will be lost and our souls set free
maybe then we can truly be. you and i, him and me.
evermore, evermore.

You are a benevolent visitor
Inaudible as my dreams
Everything you touch
Turns to crystal and white

Oh how my eyes delight
In your beautiful patterns
As you lay quietly upon glass
Can you stay forever?

My flesh abhors you
For the sting you administer
yet Autumn's half-stripped trees
Wear you as a morning garment

I do blame the sun
As it shortens your reign
Your brevity intensifies my desire
To see you on the morrow

I light my cigar, from whence comes the nicotine
That blackens my lungs and poisons my blood
But the taste of it becomes a sensational feeling,
A satisfaction to my nicotine enslaved wind-pipe
A huge urge to take it again and again
One after another
An addiction that enslaves me.

I light my cigar, from whence comes the nicotine
That keeps me company all day and night long
An enemy   I cherish and revere
That shortens my days and nights in disguise
One after another
An addiction that takes away my own life.

there’s more
than 1 theory
in string theory, more than 1 dimension too
sometimes 4, others 26
all of which but few
are flat

genus 2 donuts would have less dough
some things are super
symmetrical, quarks
didn’t exist ‘til 1968, my attention span
shortens
to 5 feet 2 inches, when a String smiles back.

it’s intuitive
that 2 quarks attract
when pulled apart.  a tachyon
fits cross legged
in a chair.  gum pops sing
and the theory is boring without fermions.

strings absorb in the D-branes
of blue eyes
and matching glasses. stray
hairs, electrified with brilliance
warrant cats
that even Schrodinger knows are alive

Wasting time
shortens life.
Spending time
studying
other people.
...One's you don't
care about.
Wondering
'could you be like them.'
Succumbing
yourself
to doubt.

...doing
things,
you never
wanted to.

Telling yourself,
what you cannot do.

...Telling lies to yourself,
then saying,
that
you never knew.

...Qestioning
Life,
....rather than:
...trying,
..to find out ,

...the asnwer,
on your own.

Scolding at yourself,
...with a constant
pity tone.

If it didn't make you happy,
then it wasn't worth your time.

life won't have you,
doing over,
..mountians
you've past  
climbed.
© J-d S. J

Told myself not to
to dream about you
but i do anyways
it just shortens the time between
the time i spend waiting
for your response
the time i spend hoping
that I'll become your everything
the time i spend wondering
if when you close your eyes
you picture for a moment
me and you

My mouth dries and my eyes water
My throat tightens and so does my chest as
Our song beats through my headphones and flows with my blood
Warming my insides while I shiver on the outside
I throw your sweatshirt on over my head and sniff it every few minutes to remind myself of you
I forget how to breathe
My breath shortens until I realize I am suffocating myself
The thought of now
The thought of being without you
The thought of how much I care for you
It draws from my soul
It weakens me
I need you.

An empty street succumbs to one
solitary walker, anonymous
in his raincoat, listening to his
own footsteps, and the camping holiday rain,
dripping. Pigeons mutter disapproval
at this inconsiderate interloper.

His stride shortens, pace quickens, feeling
discomfort at his isolation,
his cold wet feet spattering through puddles.

Grids gurgle, lace curtains tremble.
Mute unseen watchers focus on this
dark figure at the centre of the
taciturn invisible crowd.

Guessing his destination and
motives - a night worker
or burglar up to his tricks -
until his key opens number
twenty-six. Uncountable stealthy
spies retreat and sigh.

I breathe you.
I breathe you in the first breath I take every morning
I taste you in the NyQuil I have to abuse before I can sleep
I see you in the purple dreams I remember every night

NIGHTMARES

I have nightmares of you.
I nightmare you in my inadequacy and my ignorance
I nightmare you in my clothing and the way I cut my hair
I nightmare you in the tumblr girls I reblog
I nightmare you in the way my breath shortens when I can't breathe you and when I don't want to breathe you.
Asthma attack, you're my air and I loathe you
I want to suffocate but I can't keep suffering like this
I NEED AIR.
REAL AIR.
NOT THIS HELL.

I want to breathe air.
I don't want to breathe you.
I want to dream dreams,
Not nightmares.

You have total grasp of my mind
And you don't even know.

The table sways
The dark abyss that surrounds us
Is only brightened by the light
Of the sixteen candles
Shifting, side to side
The table does not sway
It is the room
For it is living
Breathing, I watch the walls
They breathe as well
These candles which dimly light
This tragedy, start to dim even more
One by one they go out
Each time one goes my heart sinks
My breathing shortens
And when the very last candle is about to dissipate
The room becomes black again and ceases to sway
And a tear rolls down my face
As I collapse
To nothing

Inhale

Ashes to ashes,
They fell down.
One long brown figer.
Shortened by a breath.

Inhale and exhale.

Breathe in,
Let it calm you.
Breathe out,
Damage is done.

None bearing children shall touch
None underage shall touch
Harmful yet pleasing
Relaxing yet breathtaking.

Inhale and exhale

The 6th finger shortens;
Half of it is gone.
Gaze around.
Feel the breeze.

I take it in
It runs through my systems
As its life shortens
So does mine.

Exhale

Ashes to ashes
We both will fall down
But I step on you,
You decayed before I did.

Would you be my friend?
Yet in time, I gripe with Plato.
Could you be my friend?
Socrates and Gorgias spar...

These bandages can only be shrouded.
Underneath grains of sand
Falling upon this dune.

During every heartbeat
One thousand grains agument this mound
Within every heartbeat
The earth spins away from day's light.

Time shortens between friend and foe
Their pearls are rusty now
I simply wait for sand.

mine own psalm musings

living between two broad, sea-emptying rivers,
a Majesty’s sentries to mark the differentiation~
division tween divine and a moderate human’s
moderating steps, as his stride shortens as the y/tears
lengthen, and it is accepted as an inevitable musky must,
no matter how the sweet spring day refreshes, the newly
planted trumpeting shards of bright yellows daffodils
pinch his yellowing eyes, few notice the tiny tears of
discrepancies of an annualized emboldening, a grand
heavenly rebirth and a slow man’s body self~editing,
shedding of a life’s~ending~of~story psalm musings

the man looks for the terrible swift sword, but its
failure to grace us with an appearance, is but a
modest disappointment, for a deferred delay is but
a causation to eke out a few mordant, pungent, caustic
reminders of all that is yet to be, to be accomplished,
though the smirking lips of the necessity of yet, one
more unloved poem extant, tilting the Earth’s axis
benevolently toward the open palms of his beneficiaries who,

you,

are among them numbered, is but, a green shoot in a city’s
hopeful earth planted, by summer, will shed seeds to come
thy way, as an evocation, a good consternation, a joyous
provocation, an asking kingly~gentle, a royal polite inquiry,
would you care to add a a verse to this eternal verse?
before time shreds it too into a yellowed crumpling,
and to the earth it is returned, for the mine of this
psalms is only generic, genetic,  and what is mine is well,

and truly yours too.


nml
<>
March 31, 2024
NYC
9:16am
Sunday Mourning Service

A quick poem.
I begin to formulate, forming a string of thoughts
I put together a sentence I'm fond of.
I ponder, smile and then light the thought on fire.
The string, now more of a fuse, consumed by the flame, shortens
The string burns getting closer to the bomb, my poem, the sweater from which my thought was pulled.
I close my eyes and cover my face expecting a bang.
I flinch and must look utterly insane for there is no bang, no pop, no explosion.
Nothing.
I must have been mistaken, like I am now, as I sit striving to unravel a sweater by only staring.

It's weird
I never like it
never understand it
why would they have it?
it's weird
it's long, in fact too long!
it looks uncomfortable
it looks heavy.
it's weird
and expensive
no lasting value,
like a day it shortens
and slowly fades.
it's weird
but does have some
sort of elegances to it.
A fashion statement I guess.
It use to be weird
Acrylic nails.
I can't fully relate to it
but I'm beginning to see its beauty
now, it's weird that it's not weird anymore

attachments arrhythmias
seeking cadence in
novelties embrace
placet experiri (he likes to experiment)
is the justification that resounds
in the juncture of you
when possibilities allure falls
as a needle on a record
spinning backwards to distort what is extant and insipid,
twirling thoughts like tattered organdy
carelessly whisked into the breeze,
deposited somewhere beyond the tide at its peak, far and away
wishing for a togetherness
that shortens the wait for waters recession-  
you, shouting words long-dead into the ocean; begging it to remember what it birthed

Coldness lulls my
head
for an eternal
nights slumber.  The arrhythmic
thumping of
my chest
dele-
teri
ous
l
y

shortens.

They tell you to quit smoking.
They tell you to quit drinking.
To quit laughing,
quit loving,
Living.
Because it shortens your life,
they tell you.
Because it's bad for your health,
they tell you.
Have a drink, friend,
have a smoke,
that's what's good for the soul.
Long walks at two in the morning
skipping stones over concrete oceans,
that's what's good for the soul.
Pretty women with pretty
legs, that say all sorts of
pretty things, but never too
loud, or too often, that's
what's good for the soul.
Watching as those pretty legs storm
out of the hotel room after
you said the wrong thing again. Fixing
up that last glass of
whiskey and enjoying it
alone instead. Fighting in
the back of bars over
spilled drinks or spilled
words or someone who slept
with someone else. That's
what's good for the soul.
To take a hit and to hit.
To love and to hate.
To live.
That's what's good for the soul.

I am the salivic twinkle in the eye.
I am the loss of vision when I look at a light.
I am the placement of a thing now, only put in my past, and played in my future.
I am the thing there now, that I placed in the past, and will leave there for the future.
I am too many to count
I am too dark to describe.
I am the colorful shades and lines of the inner eye perceiving my physical body.
Physical isn't quite right.
More like eternal-like being.
More like eternal-like spleen.
"Me" is so far out,
I don't know what this body is here before me.
What do these clothes cover?
Asymmetric from the center out.
Saying this like I gave humans life, made them walk upright.
I am the multichrome of closed eyes in a lit room.
I am faux wood.
I am that thing from the past, placed in the now, and still doesn't understand it's creator.
I am the question "why" which was never meant to be answered.
I am realizing those who are sanctified in their breath.
I am nerve meets bone meets skin meets hair.
But all in one form, I can't see how it happens.
I am what my eye looks like without seeing it, just imagining it.
"I am what I am" when I ask this question.
Sort of a mix of shape, mind, and hue.
Or is it head, line, and imagined body?
Does my hand touch my skull? Then is the hair and skin something unknown or forgotten?
What comes of the thought that is unrecognized during contemplation?
Are these really the bait for the goldfish in the mind's pool?
"Oh no, what am I going to do?" as a "bad" trip shortens my view.
The bone dry feeling of the fear of God, crushing every tendril and way that once carried me along merrily.
"What if I lose God by taking too much nutmeg?"
"You can't (or shouldn't) do that" a voice whispers to both losing God parts and taking too much nutmeg.
Now I'm contented and thoughts will no longer emerge from the pool.
So I must dive into sleep.
Good night.

I think I must be a love poetry ******
When I can't get what I want my words turn all funky
Living it in my Words World is like a release
And when the wave comes I ride it in lines just like this

I must be addicted, words don't come when I'm happy
Only when I can't breathe, I can't sleep -
Only then I start rapping
Like writing it up gets it all out of my system
Then it flows, it grows, it soothes, it heals and shortens the distance

Persistence, belief, dedication and loving
Longing without attachment is hard when you're heart's throbbing
Waiting, craving, wanting to have it all flowing
Your heart and ego are fighting the 3D world of not knowing

November 4th

The weather it seems, seems time to put on your coat,
but the way the wind blows,
a way nobody knows
will have you put your coats away,
but as the weathermen say:
”we’ll be delivered from the heat by snow this Thursday.”

Satchmo Bukowski
wants a bottle in front of me
not a frontal lobotomy.
What’s it to stop drinking?
smoking, though—it’s the best season
for it. Rather die than give up.

Yeah, my ****’s distorted, same with my story
that I tell you now, but it lives each day twice—
but like Christ down the mountain
I come forth emblazoned,
no more reckless nor hopeful than him.

Halloween here, we saw the dead dress up.
We pulled together costumes
while estimating the temperature.
As the day shortens
and night falls as you clock out,
so our phase of experience does;
so the creatures of dark troll;
so the climb though the black berry patch
becomes the only visible path.

I'm sad.
I don't want to
be poetic about
it, and compare my
tears to the
drops of
rain before the
storm, or how this
weight inside my
chest shortens my
breaths and
makes my
heart work
harder,
beat
harder.
I'm done with trying to
write everything
away, like paper can
keep my emotions
prisoner when I
shut the book.
Why does my
throat tighten,
and my
eyes feel heavy
with grief like lead?
Why can't I
shake the
dread and the
worry, the belief that
there won't be
a better tomorrow?
When will I
be at rest?
When will I
be asleep at two
in the morning, instead of
nursing my
demons at the
mother's breast of
my mind,
too tired to
wean then from the
****** that
drains me?

The thinking of Darwin...
Whirls man's ego like a maze.
Maybe... *****, not tadpoles began his chain,
Or, from what 'pole' evolve apples, grapes and maize?

The definitions from his brain,
Shortens so many hopefuls' of their might,
Dazzling damsels catwalking with minds load of pain,
For soon, beauty might evolve to piggy, monkey or kite.

Why he posits such live ******* drainage,
As man's origin is a misty cloud,
Like a blow of breath on mirror's image,
Which by heat vaporizes and reality dawn as cold.

When reality opens ignorance's eyes
She tries so hard to shut them
but her mind is moving so fast
pain invades and numbs her veins
the blood flow shortens
and her breathing stops

Its easier to live in the fast lane
Because eventually you'll get hit
And at a maximum velocity
You will be dead on arrival
Isn't that a lovely thought?

I know I'm slightly overreacting
But I also know I'm only second best
I knew what i was getting myself into
And the thoughts terrorize me
Can I believe it when you say you love me still

Promise me it will all be okay
Because sometimes I'm positive it wont.

See what I see:
the trees clinging to these orbs of light
like spiderweb shadows cast by the moon
fingers once clasped, bent now to reflect
an eternal grasp
the instant illusion of age,
of near-death

the confrontation of another kind of cold,
the distant past and future
the distance between here and the horizon

Mental snapshot taken with shivers,
the tree follows me in whispers as my shadow shortens,
zipping my skin up to hide my heartbeat,
lock it away tightly,
walk into my footsteps
and the nighttime
swallows
the reasoned stillness
.
.
My recent stillness,
I notice,
reflects back at me in the
puddles left behind the storm
and the remnants of light flicker

like stars

hearts
beat
the rhythm
of
my feet

fading into the black and soft
and safety in the age-old breath of trees

We touch.
My heart stops.
You come close,
My breath hits a pause.

You taunt, You tease.
The space between us shortens.
We kiss;
Sweet, The taste of your lips.

You nibble, You pinch.
The tension is building up.
The pace quickens,
Frantic, as our clothes come off.

You take the reigns,
Slithering your way on top.

You part the way,
Guiding me in,
My body quivering.

With every ******,
You speed up,
Gently.
Your body gliding along.
Stroking, swiftly.
Moaning,
With every motion.

Sweat dripping,
Every breath; fast, short.
The wind seems to stop.
As if taking a moment to watch.

A few yards left to run;
Our bodies respond,
The tempo picking up.
God, Oh God.
The Deity you start to call.

You grip my body,
Your nails digging into my skin.
For dear life, you hold on.
Squeezing tighter, as the moment comes.

We push our limits,
Hanging on for a little more.
We go deeper,
Our bodies quaking,
Shuddering.

Waves of euphoria crashing.
An explosion of Ecstasy.
All the hard work and effort,
Gone. In a few seconds. . .