Synchronicities coalescing
like an orchestral crescendo
bubbling up all at once
no longer guessing
no shorter waiting
the *** is boiling
moreover
I might
   be synch
                    i                        
                      n
                  g
            ...
a pod
of killer whales
crash-splashing
quite a commotion
up, out, and back
down into the ocean
born into the storm like
a frightful forte
a front brake
endo
the

feathered
fickle angel
screams pianissimo
on tiptoes, reaching out
toward tomorrows

continuously
contagious incapacitation
tells me it straight like an arrow through time
like a taught fishing hook line
and sinker —

trying to figure out
your reason your rhyme
parsley, sage, rosemary and crime
please, let me in on your
pickled paradigm

a stormy sea, all your own,
decides for you, where
you're thrown.

i am
all that i see
all the beauty is me
the flowers, the Sun
& its dance upon leaves
of the trees that we breathe
that lead us to our dreams
there’s just no better scene
as the Light seems so close
like it’s bursting from me
i swear the Sun sings
of my warm melody
i watch as her glow
grows right out
of my seams
i am all
that i
see

And when at last she fell asleep,
For my sweetheart i kept vigil.
Synching my life breath,
With her rhythmic heart beats,
For her I wrote,this song.
But she couldn't listen, not even once,
Though only for her I weaved it.

Night had her rendezvous with dawn,
At the end of her painful journey with little light,
My love left without a word, never to return
To gift me that lingering,tantalizing, sweet pain,
That makes me real; keeps the lover in me alive.

My orphaned song of doomed love,
Lost all it's meaning at that moment.
Like a lover who lost way to the rendezvous,
It kept on knocking my door, ever after.
In the insistent beating of the sea waves' passion
I heard my lost song ringing once again.
On a night the melancholy moon,went hiding.
I sat alone soaked in pain and sang my song.
It made me melt, I deeply felt,nature too sang along,
In a frenzy, I never ever did witness before.
Then, the pale moon, on an apparel in transparent cloud,
Danced forgetting all her pain , that found expression in many ways.

I now realize,that song wasn't just mine,
It has a life of it's own,in tongues it spoke.
Day and night to lovers, jilted, all those lost by mistake,
Now, it has a life of it's own, independent from all
Anywhere it  would  go alone.

                             I wrote a song, for none in particular,
                             Soon did I realize, it speaks to all pain filled hearts,
                            Love created the wistful mood,
                            My time alone with her filled the words.
                             And one day everyone who heard
                             This song sung,  will leave, but the song won't.

                            The night air will be filled with it's mute waves of pain,
                           On it the distant stars will float.
                            The wind will hum it,the interstellar space,
                            Will echo, it's cadence aloud.
                            Neither the words would  fade
                           Nor my passion for her ever would die.

Humans are capable of the biggest hypocritical ideas.
They don't do it on purpose
Yet we do it.

Some love others more than they love themselves.
Well, I believed I also did
Yet it is not quiet so.

Think well about it, I love until I bleed and even more after that!
Well, I believe in love more than most do
Yet, should I quit my dreams for it, should you?

                               Would I blow my brains out, would you?
                               Is this even a question you're allowed to make?

I believe, I've learn, I've seen
And love is learning to love another by learning to love yourself,
Love is synching your dreams with others' dreams,
Love is bending and straining to reach out to the other,
                                                      to share the pain
                                                      to lick the bruises
                                                      to laugh whole in harmony because you found IT
                                                      to be insane but never feel suicidal.

To love is to burn together
Not to blow apart for one another.

I

in the dark starvation is real.
In dark, the emesis that fills my
cheeks is a currency I soak inside, animal
coinage, the fine
bulbous talons of Sepiidae.

Savagely, pelagically
starving made me rich when
Muskrat’s claws pull apart delicate meat.
Sad Spanish blood, I would like you
to panic about what has been lost.
No body, no crime—we are all cannibals; so the muskrat ate
flesh from the dugong-heavy remora

a parallax of sorts occurs
when I cannot find my own entrails—
perhaps they are ruminating in my gut—
boiling in my optic nerve.

But–I found little boys betting quarters for eating bowels
of goat. I was small enough to fit through
playground gates so I could swing
swing in earthquakes, and portents
ride out this day on the waves—to succeed

foothills, grasses, and bath salts
by the creek. I got my quarters.
They asked me who made me as Mountain
Dew dribbled down my chest.
Infant teeth shattered my infant

fists and I did not eat divvied livers and
Victim watchers.
I wrote on
my protruding
viscera
proverbs from my ancient days


–extraordinary porch things, depleted
Phosphorus, and, on bendable limbs
I catalogued my windscraped knees.

How does one so young
become
so fed up with
hunger.

II

Starving made me easier to tie.
easier to lift.
my ancient autopsy of starvation
made me feel gutted out
like Finished
ice-cream containers.
Made me able to hold my breath for
up to six minutes—starving
made me full of Household Gods and rickety
rosaries,

small brown globular clusters,
1 arcsecond of stress
capable of aligning me
with spring-loaded washers

I pop one nut—two—
Dental Work can be a rhizome,
ordering wee-soldiers from
its tethered nodes without
lactation, laceration, infection into
my sleep-deprived throat,
Choking on bird chirps
and x-ray bursts

below the cradle where
my android sleeps. I
have named him The Alabaster.
(Synching The Alabaster.)
The Alabaster–Allie–is a kind of boat
that I have hole-punched into; like
children of the deep I have hurled
nearby rocks into its lungs.
I have wrenched crumbs of my honeymoon
sidewalk, for a beast that panics.
I would trade
the last of the dugongs
for a muskrat’s smile–
now there exists a cult for Plastic
that the spotlights started,

and in the night it will not
end with the filter feeder sinking
to the depth of the imagined water column,
spinning in the Gyre disposal.
There isn’t a colander large enough
to sift through the pejorative waste.

I knew the night would be fraught.
It makes my fusiform body necessary for
transport. Makes Monophyletic solid consumption
trucks and ACE arms reach for
well-behaved spearfish bodies.
Makes days disappear and cold
seem like simmering.
Makes staying out of sight
a trim.

And I told them,
the Fusiforms and Balusters, that
the spearfish would devour the hero who comes
from afar bearing the gift of travel–
Tully-Fisher, with his cottonseed oil
“Manufactured in USA” in
compounding pharmacies.
He made me.
And I told him:

to Tell me to trawl for something less
plastic than my second
self–that I which exists
in Mary Poppins cannons, compact
intimacies, medical and portable–

to dig within my throat, discover a nurdle
that failed to photodegrade during the the day
the Sirenia sang,
the Muskrat gnawed off his leg and hand
fed it to the remora.
III

My mouth is parched
for diagnosis of rickets, for
my un-mineralized bones.
I need RR Lyrae, Statistical π,
population “II”s
to stand in for my night.
I need Sweetened,
Spoonfuls of BB pellets and
Spoonfuls of cepheids to help
the tetany go down,

myopathic infants and
ricket Rosary symbols only work
in sacrifice–In this sense,
I have constructed a panic
architecture–Craniotabes are too
vast. Prions and viroids have seeped
through,

Infections more than dreams,
for injured muskrats who yearn for
the last real mermaid’s smile,
or tears if that would smash open
the cluttered ocean and scatter
the unwanted hosts multiplying
in my spinal fluid.

In day there is no more starvation–
the remora bring me
Libations and admire
my six pack rings mobile.
My connective obligatory.

Under my fingernails are thin
crisps that may somehow create equilibrium.
Although I nibble them regularly
I can’t always swallow.
Surrounded by a dense fog of fleas
my tongue is itching.
My teeth are scratching, scraping
away the space that will always be there.


The antique aisle at the local international
superstore is handing out shriveled
heads of past didactic patients.
But I tell them it’s not what’s there that matters
it’s what’s not there. And in my case
there’s a surplus of nothing that
I can live without.

As the cold crept under my skin
so did your kisses
as you planted them softly
on the carpet of goosebumps
that covered my body

As the wind slapped my face
with chills
so did your hands
as they cupped my red cheeks
holding it still
marveling at the beauty
that has bewitched you

As the rain damped my hair
curling them with winter surprises
so did you fingers
as they hypnotized me to sleep
uncurling all the disadvantages of the day

As the flakes rested on my lashes
so did yours against mine
as you got close to me
synching your breath with mine

As January embraced me
with layers upon layers of wool
so did your arms
as I roll under
my sheets
feeling my skin
against
yours

in a sea of adolescent geeks and nerds grown to be adolescent college corruption
holding pistol shaped hands high above their nodding heads to form an endless ocean of "W"s
lip-synching every word to the sweater song in perfect drunken harmony
                           i'm stranded here where i don't belong
trapped in a  human cage of drunken fraternities and prudish sororities
pass the expiration date of such antiquated requiems
i stand shoulder to shoulder feeling nothing but the crushing desire to sleep
the crushing desire to escape out into the wild*

                                 Where are we going?
                                 We're going nowhere.

**** this
**** that , **** it all , i am eloquent when i speak and when i write so why is profanity rude?
tell me , if i was a guy would this be different ? am i meant to stick to some code , of rules that dictate how i share myself ? how i share my words or my body or my mind or my soul or what , is it because i'm young? or is it because you think i'm trying to ****** you? did i write this peace for you? primarily , i wrote this peace for me , for me ages 7, 6 , 5 , 14, 16 , 67 , 56 , 43 , 23 , 22 , 89, 900, 10

the girl who grew into a woman not knowing a father , having to be her own , and from experience how hard that is , how alone you become , how closed i became , i become let me tell you , this is it :

I am my own , i trust , in myself enough to be able to make choices about who and what i want to ****

because , to me , it's not just a ****, or not just a kiss, or not just a lip synching , heart racing moment of pure unadulterated bliss because if i touch you like that , it means that this is some form of love , ****** attraction is energetic and why define the love that is bolder than the stars , why hide it?

i don't mean to be crude but it's true , i've ***** footed around the topic,
but this is the father i saw ,

and maybe i'm not so eloquent when it comes to feelings but let's be frank ,
nothing compares to the electric field created when we touch

we touch in the rips in space and the rips in time and rips in all the words that don't rhyme , the misses , the hits , the highs , the lows , the missing link , the found , the soft inside the hard and the lost inside the found - i can feel you , the wounded healer

undone

unsure how to heal own wounds , a wounded healer on the run , until eternity's sunset rises

fatherless , our collective society took on this crucial role but counter balanced by a mother who knows her stuff and is loving but tough and clear but clean and who showed me hurt so i needn't be hurt so much , yeah ,

that combination along with the cultural deluge in my veins
it ain't vain to take care of the emotional realm - sort through **** so one may move on ,

and yeah change takes time so peace , peace until the liner merges with the rest , patient child,

not everyone can feel like you do , it's too much sometimes
you'll be fine , just breathe and do what you want to , you can't go wrong your heart is too strong

rest easy , you've done nothing wrong , it's all on the way
shhh , sleep now , sleep and when you wake the world will still be here , bright to greet you again , the love doesn't have to end - and when the time comes he won't let you go , watch for the look
it's in the body but manifests as

a wink

a mind after midnight is a scary thing
that undiscovered country of thoughts
throughout your brain & running in your veins
pulsing, begging to be acknowledged
but you feel your heart beat faintly
and it meets the pace of your steadfast brain
slowly synching into sleep
hoping to forget everything
the next morning

I am really not passible
Just **** as possible
For a well-worn *****.
And, they call me Missy
Because I don’t think I can
Act like a masculine man
So spare me your hissy fit
Go someplace and get over it.

I can walk well in high heels
Don’t need any training wheels.
My taste in clothes is excellent
Not the slightest bit recalcitrant.
I’m fully into the new club scene
About half way to a drag queen.
One more piece of women’s wear
I’ll be ready to go about anywhere.

My movements are very delicate
And that is, of course, deliberate.
You get more if you advertise
And some assets I can’t disguise.
I’m six feet tall in my stocking feet
As spicy as Red Hots and twice as sweet.
If you don’t like your she-girls tall
Then you don’t know what’s good at all.

You’ll find me in cabarets, everywhere.
We’ll be up at the bar or in a chair
Showing off our legs and swinging
Lip-synching the words the juke is singing.
We’ll appreciate a drink, if you are buying,
We’ll make your day complete without trying.
We’re full of fun and know lots of jokes.
We’re a short vacation for the right blokes.

One must learn to listen so both will start hearing, what's the cause of all fights and all their swearing;
Not with just your ears but with an open heart and mind synching with their feelings;
Look straight through their eyes set aside your  thoughts of their demise;
For they will do the same, settling things in a peaceful way would be very wise.

Was it that really simple when lives are already took?
Will you understand the demands written in each others book;
Now with a tightly clinched fists and fingers on the trigger of their own weapons;
Gritting teeth waiting for their leader's call!Like a game of chess they are just pawns.

So the siren wails and fires were shot!Lives are taken!Bloods were dropped;
Bombs explode splattering guts!Countless deaths and souls were trapped!
After all the dust had settle, who will be victorious and which cause are stronger?!
Funny one will still claim an answer where it only fuels more anger.

So when you're asked to fight a battle over nothing which side will you take?
If they can talk things over then why need ask questions to make?
A fight may be won and battles can be conquered signatures a sin
Always remember that the war still rages within!

I am really not passible
Just **** as possible
For a well-worn *****.
And, they call me Missy
Because I don’t think I can
Act like a masculine man
So spare me your hissy fit
Go someplace and get over it.

I can walk well in high heels
Don’t need any training wheels.
My taste in clothes is excellent
Not the slightest bit recalcitrant.
I’m fully into the new club scene
About half way to a drag queen.
One more piece of women’s wear
I’ll be ready to go about anywhere.

My movements are very delicate
And that is, of course, deliberate.
You get more if you advertise
And some assets I can’t disguise.
I’m six feet tall in my stocking feet
As spicy as Red Hots and twice as sweet.
If you don’t like your she-girls tall
Then you don’t know what’s good at all.

You’ll find me in cabarets, everywhere.
We’ll be up at the bar or in a chair
Showing off our legs and swinging
Lip-synching the words the juke is singing.
We’ll appreciate a drink, if you are buying,
We’ll make your day complete without trying.
We’re full of fun and know lots of jokes.
We’re a short vacation for the right blokes.

(And, no. It is not autobiographical.)

It is all about the memories,
That like the dreams we fail,
And the thoughts we will not share,
They drain and slip through our fingertips.

Waking up from a sad dream,
One we would love to forget,
But love induced sadness,
It is hard one to get rid of.

The dawn rises synching with your chest
Your eyes shining from the watery tears,
And your mind is playing games,
It feels as if you are together,
Then reality and the dream world collide.
And you are staring through the window,
All alone.

It is all about the memories,
Those we keep close to our hearts,
Close enough to make us feel alive,
Close enough to let them hurt us.

That like the dreams we fail,
We forget and never go for them again,
Ashamed of the idea of fulfilling them,
Too frightened to share them.

And the thoughts we will not share,
They are rotting in our veins,
Growing hungry inside their lair,
Waiting for a chance to escape.

our hearts beat as one
our chests close together
the falling and rising of our chests
synching into a rhythm

our hearts are dancing as one
with it's unique individual flavor
and adding spice and fun into my solitary life
my heart skips a beat

our breaths go in and out
falling and rising like the great ocean
always flowing with mysterious motion
each breath unique and new

I wrote all these words,
when I could have simply said
"I love you"

So now I am truly alone as all plots
and unhappy endings are about
to subside, wither and die –
Literally they epitaph themselves:
For me the most delicate art in this world.
Seemingly duality has stopped playing on my strings,
so please recognize: I am not talking to myself –
I am still lip-synching, so this is absolutely an approach to something.
Besides it appears to me, an actor’s true home
is the changing-room between the scenes:
Simply furnished, no applause. Silence.
Enjambement. N’est-ce pas?

We are always waiting.

John Lennon or someone on Facebook or God said:

"Life is what happens when you're making other plans."

Life is what happens when you're waiting, and soon you'll be dead.
That's what that quote says to me.

So I'll just wait for eternity
Quietly.

And if I'm in line at the grocery
or synching my phone
or whatever it may be

maybe I'll use the time to write poetry.

Leave my little mark,
help the world remember
that while I was waiting I was still
me.

Sometimes
I'm a passive pastime aggression past life regresser.
Sorry I'm such a sad excuse for a screwdriver,
you silly suffering succatash!
But really, I'm only sorry
because apparently
I'm the one who turned you into ****** tunes.
Maybe I'll come into your television with
new waveforms and let society tear me apart
steakchewsteakchew American diet and
then you can be a little less frayed.
And was I afraid? Hell the **** yes I was!
What are you some kind of beekeeper?
I've got half a mind to herd the hive and
two to love it for it's honey.
I haven't dove into a swarm of stingers
without a welt or two lately lemme tell ya.
Lemme show ya a lil somethin' somethin' cold
somethin' simmerin' somethin' like that
old house of cards filled with sickening soulsins.
Flutter flutter fly and the kingdom falls, god-****!
That was all that time?
Remember the last one of those I never finished and
there was no excuse for letting the time tick?
Bomb and tock when I had the right shoe.
Even if I've got two left feet
I've gotta make it werk!
I'm lip synching for my life
annd whattt!

There oughta be another option,
A different route to take.
Alternate realities are limited,
The receptors are collapsing in.
Actors are computer generated,
Vocalists are lip synching,
Wood's not wood,
The bellfry is a facade,
And my chicken dinner didn't hatch.
My clothes are made of oil,
My veggies grow indoors,
I'm drinking chlorine and fluoride,
Bottled water isn't wet.
What I see's not what I get.
Yes or no simply won't do.
My tires aren't rubber, I'm laying slicks,
Shakespeare's off the curriculum.
That's not the face you had last week,
Nor the body you've long borne.
Gimme some old fashioned ice-cream.
They're laying oil lines,
Clear-cutting my life line,
Soon landing us on Mars.
Yes or no won't do.
***** a fence around our world,
We're living in a zoo.

And it was there I said I'd meet you.
Under the overpass, your eyes grasping for new ways to say I told you so. And that smokestack heart of mine piled up a few more miles of the most beautiful memories that could fit into my nap sack before the bus left:

When you remind me I'm lip-synching on our car rides to nowhere which is everywhere with you and how I hate telling you I'm wrong.

That smile- and how it wraps around my lips when I try and refuse that lighthouse from ushering me home.

The echoes your laughter makes across the empty dining room and how intentional you spin this sound so I can hear it from the bedroom.

Your left temple- tabernacle and all- leaning against the smoke. Every night.  Not afraid of the fire.

And before I leave you remember that these trips are every bit as permanent as they are temporary. You tell me to hurry home and I remind you that I always am with you. You smile. The Sun screams, raising its voice across your face as we depart and you've never been as beautiful as when you said

Make no mistake make no excuse
It's not your fault they are obtuse
Serenely synching your tie
Air cut about to die
You are not theirs to abuse

This is not ordinary
I am used to falling
A few feet or so
But never the thousands of miles that now exist
You are so far
I reach out my hands and I cannot touch you
You are not there
Yet I pretend you are
Close my eyes
And imagine the rhythm of your breath
Syncing with mine
Picture your hands
Synching with mine
Our bodies
Poured together
A mess that we neglect to clean up
There is a certain comfort in the chaos
And I want to be in complete disarray
I want to empty myself into your arms
Want you to do the same
And together we will hold ourselves intact
But you are so far
I cannot pick up your pieces when they fall
My hands do not stretch the distance
And there is so much between us
But if I ever get the chance
If this space ever collapses
If it ever box-folds itself into disappearance
If we ever come close
And you want me to,
I will love you
And I will love you
Completely.

I called out to the world
Distraught, frantic, searching.
Something awoken in you,
A resonant note,
Found deep in your core.
I called again, and the music
Stirred inside of you.
Responding to my vibrations,
You called back to me
With want.
A longing and determination
That was somewhat melancholic,
Teetering on the edge of desperation.
I kept my call constant
As you sang to me,
Both of us searching for the other
Trying to pinpoint our spirits
In the world's sound waves.
As we got closer
Our desperation began to rise
Like a boiling sun,
Burning us with desire.
We called out to each other
Faster, louder, synching our
Fragile loneliness
Until we found one another
Our souls, like two fishes
Swimming, dancing together
Twirling around in the air
Creating a beautiful melody.
Then we entered each other,
You absorbed me, and I you.
A harmonious collision,
That no power could sever
For our souls have always been
Tethered.

-SLuR

All things must come to an end,
they say.
This place already feels hollow
without you.
A hall of echoes.
I miss you,
even as you linger.
I am capsised,
by this primal urge,
Once abandoned,
nearly forgotten,
reborn in your irreverent grace.
I discover myself marooned.
Cast out.
A Castaway,
on this island you sacnctioned,.
It is only what I am owed,
The inevitability,
of my own privateering.
Machinations of unreliable pursuit...
My imagination,
as ever,
running away with itself.
You were a landfall,
of sorts.
Painting yourself an unlikely comrade,
silently synching oars,
navigating parallel waters.
Finding purchase (purpose?)
on the cruel waters
of this devious digital sea.
Would haves,
cresting as could haves,
breaking into should haves,
spilling,
anticlimactically,
onto indifferent shores.
A filmy release,
A ghost froth,
delivering its spent intention,
unto shifting sands,
etching itself but briefly,
before its memory is consumed,
and ferried off,
by the relentless gravitation of the tides,
by the eternal gravity of time.

I want to feel the mathematical equations
of the universe travel through my mind,
the sheer illumination rising within my creation,
cultivating my destination, every captivating
maze a monumental element, a fascinating
force of motion connecting space and time.
the molecular rhythms of love revolving
within nature, brilliant imaginations becoming
quantum mazes, thermodynamic kingdoms
running on radiant heat transfers, Newton
nations developing vast laws within earth’s
existence.  I want to escape into the prolific
nature of physics, take in the iridescent intellect,
the universal language of love giving me
extraordinary power as I drift into the horizons
of sine waves and tangents, oscillating frequencies
streaming along with the flawless fortress of Venus,
immense gravity glowing in the night, various
vectors bringing out the benevolent beams
in my chiseled cheeks, dynamic domains
bursting with passion and phenomenal dreams,
the poetry within me synching with the love
of physics, the Gay-Lussac’s Law orbiting
within my cells, superior scientific instruments
increasing my knowledge as I listen to the world
around me, taking in every astonishing sound,
every bridge of blossoming branches flowing
in the bright sky.

to know and to be certain that you exist
in someone else's world
minutes or hours away
is incredible - yet completely illogical.

to know and to be certain that someone thinks of you
when you're not there is an absurdity - and yet entirely wondrous
even then, still, your fingers ache to grasp the intangible reality
of revelation as to when and where your two worlds will collide again when you are apart.

and upon that collision
will there be time to stand and watch the seasons change?
or will it move like lightning - in seconds it is gone
and you have missed it.

will days be weary from verbal abscission or will hours be shortened
by love's implicitly?
furthermore, will night's be stormy from words left unsaid
or will minutes be lengthened by confluence of two souls?

those moments
when souls are bonded
when their eyes find yours
when your breath catches
when your voice falters in your throat
those moments
when their lips press against your skin
when your eyes close
when your hands clasp
and your heart hammers
those moments when

you cant tell whose heart is is synching with who's -
those are the moments you crave.

there is nothing more innocent than someone who can stop you in your tracks with a wave - and take your breath away with a smile, jumpstart your heart with a word, and ignite a fire in your stomach with a kiss.

the absurdity of those moments is incredible - yet completely illogical.
so tell me, what does it really mean to be certain?

I listen to the frequency of your soul, feel the sublime energy
rise and fall onto my flesh, your intimate chemistry sending
deep vibrations through my veins, infinite diction swirling
through the roots of my flowery frame, your multicolored
domain a blissful presence in my beautiful eyes.

I can hear the sounds of your supreme existence in the sea,
heavenly songs blending with my heartbeat, your jeweled
masterpiece an endless chapter of passionate attractions,
your horizon everything synching with mine, two dynasties
flowing beyond the moon and stars.

He was a part of my soul
in the midnight attraction,
a starbright symphony speaking
to me so peacefully, inviting me
to a world full of want and wonderful
waves, a radiant equation – florescent
frequencies, true thoughts, immense
visions becoming iridescent facts,
flawless streets, beautiful bridges
elevating to higher stages.  And as
I inhaled his rhythmic notes, each
sound taking me overboard towards
divine dynasties, towards brilliant
boulevards, the skin of his sweet
vessel a vibrant vowel synching
with my universe, a oneness that
I could feel lifting my body in the
sky, taking me across astonishing
Jupiter, snazzy Saturn, gleaming
Venus, the night lights bursting
bright within my sight, horizons
of infinite flight, horizons of spectacular
delight, horizons of rising rockets
igniting in a moment of passion.
And I knew he was my destiny,
a body of poetry working its way
through the deepest tunnels
of my heart, flaming my flesh,
pulling me inside his hypnotic streams
as he made love to me under the
scenic stars.

I have seen you before in my dreams,
crystal enchantment, electric frequencies,
ripe flesh bursting with luminous logic,
spitting hard gritty bars around the astonishing
stars, your soul sound playing underground
jams inside my world, baritone beats,
majestic tempos, dynamic content cruising
the coastline within your ocean.  Musical
notes oscillating and vibrating through your nation,
transportation of absolute equations, programmed
alliteration synching with my planet system,
more like equating with exhilarating Neptune
inside my essence.  Your composition
is the best rendition of love melodies
rocking the landscape, a oneness,
a perfect setting coinciding with my flight.
the iridescent notations wedged between
your geometry, glowing glossary indicating
vast intelligence.  I’m chained inside your time
vessel, hooked on your addictive chemistry,
slow stepping inside your sweet nectar,
taking in the sweet juices and invigorating
delights, your swagging symphony reeling
me into the inner stadiums of your existence,
groovy mazes, space light stations, mega
rocking skyscrapers, your instrumental abs
playing acoustics on my chests, inviting
me into your mansion of endless mountains,
giving me eternal pleasure.

If I could live inside your time,
Share the constellations of the
universe and upbeat anthems
with you, I would dive deep
into your existence and embrace
all the planets soaring inside
your domain.  Listen to the
gleaming sounds under the sun
shine in the light, move beyond
time, synching with the breeze,
eternal waves singing songs
of shimmering sensations,
vivid imaginations, deep creations,
bathe in your rays of hypnotic
beams.  A thousand times of thrilling
rewinds reach various horizons,
hovers upon your beautiful dimension,
seeps inside iridescent galaxies,
sparking vibrant dreams, your hazel
eyes a life I could gaze into for hours
at a time, stop and pause and fast forward
at the brightest sights, marvel at your
masterpiece, the significance of your
features – sleek cheeks, sweet skin,
lips of burning desire, a great world
full of musical notes taking form
in the midnight.

Last night, we made love for the first time,
feeling the magic and boundless pleasures
of each other’s flesh, exploring the vast galaxies
of ecstasy, fervently kissing, our temperatures
increasing, our lips sexaliciously synching together,
so inviting, pleasing, a dazzling destination
exploding with addictive chemistry, pure synergy
between time and reality, feenin’ for each other’s
vessel, lost into the night as the slow jams played
on the radio in our bedroom where we escaped
into outer dreamland's, our bodies filled with intense
heat under the bed sheets, climbing the ladder
of unforgettable desires.