Body hurts from last night's wine and
This morning's lifting.
Hands shake, sounds of construction
Like an insane symphony of
Unsilence.

My limbs are the fingers of a clenched
Fist around the hope that
The hours may grow wings.
The city, a snail outside
The construction site fence.

We're both prisoners under a
Sky that's waiting to downpour,
Giving each other nervous looks
Through iron bars, smiling
Unwillingly with tears in our eyes,

To immitate consolement.
Today, a line has been drawn between
The world and its enemy,
Of which I'm on the wrong side.
This is how I die;

A drowned flower.
A bleeding scar. An
Exposed nerve in the rain.
At least I have the wine.
Without it, I'd never get this thirsty.

from the beauty of the break of day
to the enchantment of the night,
if his eyes find these words I pray
they shall find in them delight:

at the sparkle of the velvet sky,
at the day-lit cotton blue,
at the very apple of his eye,
at the girl who sees him true;

I long that his ears hear the song,
the duet of wood and brook
that grows in defiance loud and strong
for the branches people took,

for the wanderer between the hills,
for the two birds far apart,
for the battle cry so loud and shrill
of emotion that swells my heart.

the silence in
your voice
is like a storm
in the cold.
when it thunders
the sky renders
a fidgeted cloud
wanting  to rowd
away to a bout.
it moves random
looking to stardom
wishing the rain
would fall.
and when it does
the calm
traps
any remaining  of the stabs
the weather
had dabbed.
the return of the sound
a musical
found
is perfect to  accompany the mind.
when you open up
and say
it is proud
all the things you 'lowed.

No logic can drift away
the stench of lust that
lures over us, like darkness
caressing the daylight with truth.
Whispers of memories unsilence
your song composed upon my skin but
the aching kiss of a bumble bee
melts away our distant song as
it extracts the purity of our pollen,
the longing for love that
once stirred your soul.
As it still stirs mine.

She's rock 'n' roll as if it was an
Element.
She walks to the sound of

Cobblestones worshiping her
Heels like the desert its rare
Rains.

Nightclub beats slow
Down to
Match her pulse

As she passes.
Narcissus loving himself
Before her; she mirrors

Men's fragile egos in the
Tears she produces when
Passing them with me

On her mind.
She's rock 'n' roll
As if unsilence itself commanded

A goddess to choose a body
To possess; her
Back straight

Like time was of no such thing
As the essence.
She slows down to match

My humble
Mortal
Pace.

I die.
Then
Not.

can i not bore into my temple
and remove the bitterest parts
of myself when they scream?

am i forced to witness their decaying
motions as they spoil and rot
every good thing I feel?

i say no, because i am worth more
than unspoken disdain, disgust,
unpleasantry.

fingertips to burdened lips,
I unsilence them and free the raindrop
words that ache to revive the good
behind the hurt.

paintbrush smattered in an ugly
hue of purely human creation,
no divinity in its intent, portrays
an image of a me that doesn't like me.

but it washes off in realization
that water is love is truth.
and that truth, beyond me
and in me, is good.

Watching the lights blare,
Whisked fitly in the sound of sirens,
     Vacuum between two worlds
     Breathless little thoroughfare
Basking in this unsilence.