...

Mystery;
Such that you were to me
But nervously I swayed in your direction
Curious;
I couldn't help but catch
my breath as you spoke of this
dismal city and your photography
So caught
in your wishes to escape
back to your summer adventures
to the hustle and bustle of Tokyo and Seoul;
it was then you felt such anonymity
So it was then you had felt free.

I look to you again,
piecing you in these things that you
dare share with me; so easily,
eagerly.
Quiet now, you look to me but
I apologize, I didn't know quite
where to begin.

Mist and fluttering snow
Clouding over our concrete city,
We walked below the looming
Buildings until pausing,
to take a picture of me.
It seemed, in this hour, it was
only us who
chose to walk through these
deserted snowed-in streets
You suggested something then,
offering to take me up to the top
of the sleekest buildings,
to your rooftop sanctuaries I longed
to see
until it was only in my view-
small specks of life below me
where I could only see my sodden shoes
dangle down
to nothingness, to air, weightlessly as I
taste the mist upon my shoulders and
frozen hair.
In awe I would laugh
at the beautiful sight before me- to
Skyscrapers that cut above clouds
in the glint of the sun reflecting back to
our eyes, and
our cheeks who also felt the bite of
winter's winds.
Shivering,
Soaked in hair and feet
and

Again I turned to face you
but here,
with glittering eyes,
... wondered where
You would then choose to
take me
on our second date?

        

                                                ­       *P.K.

eating breakfast
on a beaten girl's face
she ignites when you take it
she glows in her faith
with gold and blue phalange atop sleekest new marrow
she is clear raincoats and black body polish
she is siamese cats asleep on a windowsill
she is the rusted remains where the ices draw narrow
she is reading rimbaud and drowning brian jones

the swan's neck upper reach
is steady with guilt
engraved with your initials
a monogrammed friese
on white marble quilt

This here feels different
Time has withdrawn my feelings deeper within than ever before
A swim through my lust could show you who I once was
And your fractional connection always brings suspense about
Though it's overwhelming once ours is replenished
This here isn't physical
But maybe us with silence could revoke something of a new horizon
Just a peak into your nature
Exploring your soul through its sleekest valley
And taking a few breaths inside of your vaporous fumes
Fondness couldn't hide from itself
But if you hold your breath long enough, you'll find the new me
Oh so tenuous, too dangerous to ever speak of
My love used to be the feeling of inhaling glass
With a little ammonia to clean up any residue
That was until I began to love myself more than I should have
So now I hold my breath
To visualize love at a different level with more emotions
Ones that coincide to being happy with another person
But my vision can't seem to apprehend
So I'll allow my imagination to prosper on anyway
Back into you sleekest valley, the glass and ammonia returns
This here feels different
There is no feeling of pain anymore
And you are still holding your breath
Something new inside is emerging but can't remember it's feeling
Now my body will prosper this new feeling along
New love is born and the physicality awakens a new horizon inside you

I surf through a crowd,
click, click, click,
am I slick?
Am I sick?

The faces cascade, each one like a molecule
in a waterfall of desire and liars and fire.
Do we sit here to burn or to yearn.
Do we ever learn or feel concern.
It seems I will never tire to conspire
against my own soul on this wire.

I'm wired.
The screen crackles a strange glow.
The bits and bytes tell me there's hope.
Ones and zeroes like so much knotted rope.
I hang on her every word,
oh, my shame is ethereal.
I want to stop seeing her,
but my hunger is serial.

She whisper's, "But wait...
...
...
...
... there's more..."
and I die to be born her prisoner.

In lust we trust,
the internet anthem,
the trumpet of the millennia
our senses abandoned.
The cascading fire, behind the screen,
the ache inside: my mind? my spleen?
I must be rotten,
how could I not be,
their alluring words and forms,
imprison me.

Can I break free? Qui-qui? Hehe!
It's a total lie, there is no greener grass.
So I hunger for more of the poison that made me;
I seek to drown myself, like a manly baby,
"Gimme more! A little more!"
They stand in shock,
then retreat to their bottles,
ignoring the ticking clock.
Back to her and her and her,
the ones who will never love me,
who've ensnared me to drain me,
me and me and me.

There are different kinds of blindness,
many we will never be ****** enough to see
but when the blinds are open,
can we really change what we see?
Do we come awake to a ruin,
a festering, aching, screaming lump of chaos
that we are but fingers to... this abomination.

I surf the crowd
and when she comes again,
I'll just change the channel,
and a new face materializes,
her beauty renders me thirsty
I smile my sleekest smile,
I recite the uncanny words,
"Mirror mirror on the wall."

Darkest of the dark
Sleekest of the sleek
Loveliest of the lovely
Deepest of the deep

Spin to win
Rest assured
Mocking bird
Mocking bird

Built it's nest
It flew, it soared
Wasn't easy
More a chore

Confident?, sure
Why, what for?
What's expected
Still unsure

Rising sun
Sinking moon
Hour late
Still too soon

Draw your gun
At high noon
Single living
Gloom and doom

Life and death
What's the score?
In the spotlight
Still ignored

Rotten apple
To the core
War!
And nothing more
And nothing more.

I’ve seen your work before; fearless, freshly framed
for those colored *******; slowly visible in moist  
and languid ways, splitting sleekest hairs
in scorched sheets, cinematic, grotesque grunts
humming the atmosphere.  This is your love at it’s
latter, punching dusty walls dim, *******, firecrackers
pressed against bellies, new equations filling the exterior
in jittery squirms.  The plot is peeling smokeless holes,
unfiltered, breathless, old solos fading in filth across the
canvas as dark eyes spark slurpy tangent twists,
their keys tight against the lock, slowly pushing the door
open to jagged letters.  You can’t blame me for following
your footsteps. It’s my duty to leave those strike-through
images against the blackboard, single-spaced adjectives
lining the detail, similar to how you fed those *******  
of your time with florescent glitter. We’re very much alike,
you and I, stiff steel of goodness, tight-strapped, monstered,
baptized with crafted portraits, old yet so close to home,
breathing inside our interior.

As I read your captivating poetry
today, the smooth stanzas elevating
in synchronicity towards beaming
mansions, sheer diction shimmering
on the surface, flowery bright metaphors
coming to life in the sleekest spots, street
soul seeping into the heart of its spotlight,
my dazzled dynasty overtook with boundless
joy.  The slow-motion syllables rising
off the page into my flaming existence,
every sparkling simile growing beautifully
the way lovers blossom on a romantic occasion.  
And as I studied each crystal consonant,
the serene spaces separating each one
from the other, my body bursting
with curiosity as I sunk into the depths
of its world, my flesh wanting to feel
and breathe in your kingdom, taking in the
perfect depictions and illuminating tunnels,
the passionate moments rocking me
with dance jams, slow grooving mazes,
**** and salacious, the divine music
in my ears, swaying my sublime bones
into dizzy galaxies.   And I wanted to
embrace the engines of your ignition,
the wheels of your racing rollercoaster –
so adrenaline jumping, so rhythm bumping,
your whirling vessel an all-time masterpiece
sparking my skin.

Outrunning even
Wraiths on wings
Headlong into
The battle brings
The wizard back
To task
Complete
The sleekest steed
Whose fleeting streak
Inspires awe
In noble
And meager alike
Alight he charges
Into night
Against the forces
Sent to claim
The kingdoms free
Of Mordor’s chain
And unrelenting
Charges on
Throughout the ages
In this song

I fell into your mesmeric man trap,
in the springtime season of your naked
seas, your great waves making magic
in between my thighs, giving me high vibes
in the nighttime rhymes of flowering love.

Your existence was as sweet as honey,
so tasteful as I savored its pleasures
on my tongue, falling in the lush
labyrinths of your rapturous fragrance.

You were so deep in my sacral chakra,
infecting my soul as I touched my lips
with my pointed finger, reminiscing
on your delicious chocolate flesh.

Who knew that a dreadhead man
could be so sensual and enthralling,
a sparkling harbor of poetry written
on the sleekest surface of my skin,
down within my inner walls.

You made me feel so awakened
in his swag nation where his landscape
shimmered on my thrilling chest,
so willing to yield to his horizon
of intriguing powers and desires.