easy bits open, in, down, and next
browse, peruse, idly select
amuse, delight, disgust abject
oversized, crunch, munch, and ruminate
give a glazed gaze and a bemused musing
there's another little bit
oh isn't that nice
it's so perfect
bite sized
delight

when every thing is beautiful and nothing is
when your mind is pregnant and your tongue is thick
when the water laps laughing
when the thoughts come through like fine threaded guilt aqua regia
when angst sparks his ire and fuels yours
when its only four hours until his flight
when dehydration is your only plight
when pride and wrath and gluttony
when eat, pray, love rear their ugly heads
when the hand of salvation wriggles against you like an eel
when the greed churns upon your skin
boils and bile upchucked within
it turns and turns your sin
within and reviles the ones you want to win
who can't explain the words within
it fires and fires your unholy sin
within within within
within
I

footsteps approach your bed
like nothing you have ever heard
excitement? or maybe dread?

footsteps in your mind
keep these for the last dance
match the tempo, step to time

everything around me is falling apart
but i'm okay and all i want is to talk to you

sprinting for coffee
because i'm late and i
don't want to lose the minutes i have
with you
so
im sprinting for coffee
sip slowly savoring stories you say
how are you and how was your day
because i don't usually have much free time
and when i do
i'm sprinting for coffee
with you

the woman on the floor
blood pooling like spilled wine
the boy clutching his shoulder
the miserables scampering for the door
the pragmatics losses left in their own fluids
my light is darkness in heart

in sky in sea bright heart afire
your song opens my souls desire
I am transfixed by your power
I bask in your voice, this evening hour
you are so operatic, magnetic
rhythms driving sensation across my skin
exultant, driven, nearly hectic
so delightful, almost sin
my pen dandles across the paper
my mind grasps at your fleeting form
trying to hold, and capture
this fluid thing that brings me rapture

at last, at last, hundred years have gone
her name keeps ringing
at last, at last, she has gone silent
bellicose percussives at once still
alas, alas, she has retreated from memory
frantically grasping at fading tendrils of warmth
alas, alas, what once was
will never be

one day you will see my soul whole
one day I will give you a fragment and another day another
another fragment of my soul until you have all of me
of my fears, my nightmares, of my ambitions, my dreams
dreaming of giving you something so cherished
to cherish me as I clutch you to my breast tightly and tenderly
tender, my delicate soul you hold, from this day to the last day
one day you will have my soul whole

the tiny infinities filling in the tiny spaces
where curves cavort and delight
and cavort and delight
lower dimensions folded and folded
probing and venturing the curves and the space
and elevate with repetition
the space filling curve
delight in the heightening
of the space filling curve
the delectable duplicated declensions
going downwards through the space and the curve
infinite unwinds and opens, relaxed
the space is filled, the curve, unpacked

fill your heart with the love that you deserve
drink deeply your happiness birthright
trace with fingers, map her body's every curve
and flushed skin setting afire your every nerve
eyes so filled with each other, the only thing in sight
heart pumping, warm blood, lips gently graze
eyes aglitter as the cosmos in twilight
heartbeat athunder with tremulous delight
idle days lounging, loving laze
a love eternal to preserve
stunned endorphin induced craze
fire starter set your heart ablaze

there was a lumpy brown couch against the wall of the living room
I sat on beige carpet facing beige wall and couch
light scattered by the pale yellow lamp in the corner
it was upholstered in tough fabric stitched with white diamond brocades punctuated by little red and blue squares
my mother and father somewhere behind me in the kitchen
the squat brown coffee table draped with delicate white cloth sat in between me and the couch
we were just beginning back then, my family and I
and sometimes my nascent memories of this home
happen to intrude upon my thoughts
and I capture this image with fond words
like an awestruck lepidopterist
as the vision in my head flutters like his subject
cherished for as long as it is mine

rain on my window
good whiskey in my insides
sad songs in my ears

find me in my bedroom
asleep on sheets sanguine maroon
worry not, I intend to wake up soon
curtains drawn against the light intent to preserve the gloom

see you tomorrow after a long day
not knowing that's the last thing you'll say
for I do not intend to stay
see me tomorrow it will be a long day

hi, if you're trying to reach me i'm not available at the moment
these feelings I'm feeling simply just won't end
I'm too stubborn to help, to convinced I won't bend
and then I break

so let us go then you and I
when the morning begins to peak out that twilight sky
I've gone ahead I fear,
maybe I'll see you in a few years

sometimes i feel like what i do is not enough
that feeling eats me up inside
i agonize, over analyze to the point of emotional homicide
so i stumble and scramble for the words to apologize
but it's not about me it's about how i failed you
it's about me because i need to make this right
but i need to care for you and it's terrible tonight
so as much as it is me that might
be breaking at the seams and barely able to bear
i am there to be what i can for you
because i'm alright i promise this is nothing to me
because if it was something to me
someone would need to care about me
and i can't afford that so it's nothing to me
nothing in the sense that you may lay it on me
and i will provide
and I, and I, because I, and me and me and me
I frighten myself with my ego
so I tuck it away the best I can
and let it seep in my thoughts as the liquor surges my veins

when I am entranced
by a person I delight
in taking a piece that I admire
and melding it into my desire
then they become part of me

I am a patchwork of souls
I take mementos as I please

are you the cure to my depression
or are you just another haplessly poured drink
are you the validation of all my turbulent emotion
or am I stupefied on the couch in soporific unthink
do I imagine you cradling me and loving me dearly
or am I falling asleep alone dreaming when I am going to meet you
do I lament the way your absence makes it hard to think clearly
or am I variously intoxicated to substitute a love lost true
do I descend downwards and downwards
as I enter the catacentre
and the succor so divine lingers a touch away
imbibe, partake, delight
and become unfeeling
or perhaps all too feeling

there is a skeleton of an idea
born from some barely formed imagination
abducted from its incubation
and slammed into the dirt
under layers and layers
it fossilizes
and bone becomes crystal
and silicates abound
and the impression is ripped from the ground
paraded amongst the public
strung up and put on show
but what has happened to the flesh and sinew?

I'm sorry that it took loss to galvanize me
I'm sorry that it had to hurt so
and I'm sorry that I had to rip you to shreds to make me whole

I'm sorry that it's your memory and not you that keeps me going
that I'm only who I am because of who I failed to be in the past

and I'm sorry that I'm not quite there yet.
That I stagnate in mediocrity
that I don't drive myself every day
that I'm always in some frame of a film on loop
of me stumbling and falling and getting up
running two steps
to fall again

I would say I am plagued by inadequacy if I wasn't already ****** to melodrama
and I would say I'm glad you're alright if I wasn't already ****** to inarticulacy
but all I can say is that I'm burning every bit of life I can to be the way I think I should be for you
and saying I'm sorry is part of that
but gritting adamance more so.

your memory is screaming at me today
so I'm putting bits and pieces of myself towards that light in the distance
if all I can be is more than I was yesterday that's enough

green men in green light
stretched, twisted,
in the midst of occult rite
verdant figures of living dead

the abyss stares where the face should be
something quavers the soul
a caged being that must not be set free
to gaze within is to be the fool

gaze averted, the world begins to bleed
ascend, ascend, the turning gyre
the virulent green, a germinating seed
entrance the mind, bring forth desire

if i convince myself that being with you will make me happy,
will that make me happy?
if i trick myself into feeling good
will i end up feeling good?
if i smile and lie to myself that i'm doing fine
will i start being fine?

because "this is good for me", I say
and my litany becomes my reality
and my new neuroses become nevermore
because this is good for me

if i drown myself in loneliness
will that it make me lonely
if i plague myself with inadequacy
will that it make me inadequate
if i flay myself with hatred
will that it make me hated

because "this is good for me", I say
as the carrot is replaced with stick
and my nevermore neuroses begin anew
because this is good for me

I am challenged by the cold
in this negative space that I am in
full of sappers and drainers
painted takers and gainers
and I am exhilarated by this winter
full of space that I can consume
that takes from me everything
and gives to me revelation

like the last drop squeezed from a parched lemon

scented candles and red wine
thunderstorm ponderous overhead
slow songs with crooning vocals
talking about sad things and fond loves
dangling in that emotive twilight
one bit furious red passion
one bit somber violet sedentary
thinking about the human condition

Pardise is the city that lyses the the two
the spare wanders, gloom of midafternoon, dance oilslick quay
peers the murkveil brine, wet: the denizen
then, within fish wife clutched dear soul
only Pardise, above twilight sky seeps

night, the dark city lumbers unlife
alight, panes glare down streets one might
be urged to seek black sludge, life blood
vain hit, delight, 'phoric midnight

and day cracks a flare
and sunlight climbs the steeple
and the city lurches

body, defile thy self
trundle and slough off

sinful form

your dark hair on my pillowcase
it snarls me from my dream
i'm pulled awake by this dark strand
and all at once I am ******.

your dark hair on my pillowcase
spills and courses an ebony stream
my eyes drift to your softly sleeping face
and I pull you into my embrace

your dark hair tangles in my fingers
coils and grasps my memory
eyes, hands, lips
just beyond fingertips

your dark hair tangles in my fingers
our amor cloaked in an onyx curtain
I count the flutters of your eyelashes
and I kiss your neck so that I can inhale your pulse

I want to disappear just to see if I am missed
I want to die to count the attendants at my funeral
How many social media posts will say they knew me
How many people will I have touched enough for them to be scarred
And this morbid curiosity consumes and terrifies me

were I to be strong,
it would be due to your love
alas, supposition

left                                                             ­                                                right
to my                                                               ­                                    on track
    own devices                                                          ­      to my future self,
    i tend to go                                                             endless possibilities
        astray                                                  ­            but only one choice
        i wander and                                                           and I wonder
            i ask the universe gleefully,       who will I be tomorrow?
            what's out there for me to see?        the answer is silence
                 and so I go onwards and inwards, journey of soul
                 i go downwards and outwards, a venture so bold
                     life branches and twines, a kissing canopy
                     unified in the end, I'm where I ought to be

it's time to be relentlessly open with myself
it's time to put my well thought thoughts into stylized writing
i want to bluntly talk about me
and this turmoil of feelings that i sit with
a turmoil of unorganizedness not of despair or distress
but more like something always roils to my psyche's surface
and i ponder it for a bit before it's stirred and turned into something else
and i'm scared of losing those thoughts because i'm quite proud of them
and how they constitute the person I am and the person I am trying to be
and so i'm writing them down.

how's that for a preamble?

starting at the top and first are bonds
i want to be the someone for my friends
i dont have the someone that i can reach out to or that reaches out to me
and that's okay
but i understand how alone i feel sometimes
but i can deal with it
but i am not everyone
i'm not boasting im not exceptional
but i understand how **** this feels sometimes so i want to be that someone for everyone
so that they dont have to feel this way alone
and maybe that makes me bold or prying or nosy but i'd rather
be lamblasted than too callous
and i'm so ******* awkward
and i don't know much about much
so be patient with me

what is the nature of the interface?
language simmers in the core of our collective memory
language provides us with the ability to codify the universe
and yet it's oilier than a mackerel
language leaps, language stumbles, weaves, and muddles
like a river in runs and turns and bends
and yet it does absolutely none of those things
and yet the listener knows it does all of those things
and this oily fish at the center of the universe is how humanity communes with stardust and sand
and this language, it becomes numbers, things that have always existed but only concretely when attached to a word
are there a finite amount of ideas in the universe? An ostensibly countable infinity?
and does that mean that one day the last original thought will be had?
does that mean that every single thought can be found by compute?
if there was a thought machine, and an infinite amount of time, would it think every thought that would ever be thunk?
or is the universe of ideas infinite?
an ever expanding space of collective thought
of things unthinkable that will one day be thunk
of worlds, patterns, and mental simulacra entirely incomprehensible
could a mental ship set sail on this ocean of thought?
would it ever be able to return to its home port?

oh, my blissful cloud
to obscure the sun for time
the moment is gone

my shadow of a thought prances with delight
elusive dance
I grasp the shade to tether me to its being
and the mischievous umbral silts through my sieve of fingers
my shadow of a thought breezes between my ears
whispering come hithers
as i clamber, my arms wide
torch wall and shade in the cavern of my mind
and my shadow of a thought coos and urges
its fellows to join the bacchanalia
the cacophonous caverns clamor to crescendo
i'm left blended in thought and shadow
a memory of a memory in my hand
the closing remarks a murmur on my lips

it stops
something
        stumbles
and with
backwards
        glance

it is yesteryear
and the once and future moment
over and over
the first, second, third
fourth and fifth
        and sixth

welcome back to the ever oncoming
breathe
clasp
release release
release

how dare you be so cute
wandering as you please with attitude
sassy meow at my approach
queen of the house I adore you the most

wondrous shine, your coat so sleek
knocking over things, havoc, you wreak
despite all the toys, it's the box you seek
it's three in the morning and you simply must eat

and suddenly
the start is something like a trickle of mountain spring water
it's minute, persistent, almost prideful
the progression is natural
it's almost a flow
it's an onslaught
the sound of bed sheets pulled over
soft silken sweeps emit in intervals
and then dispersal
with the gradual suddenness of sand slipping through fingers
like the clatter of marbles dropped from a hand
the multitudes emerge
scattered like a dandelion
consumed by the wind
and extension
until the last pin prickle straddles the edge of consciousness and imagination
with a pause
it cascades
the stream of water, stronger now, a river
and suddenly
impulse

my thoughts are spooled in tangles infinitely
draw one out like a spider silk thread
thinly gingerly cling and extract
this pure distillation so delicate
lepidoptery, a million beautiful ideas arrayed on a board
pinned and preserved
no longer ephemeral

sitting midnight
storm come creeping
little taps like a hand enticing
a cat across a table
bigger taps like a set of fingers
drumming impatience
and then the gusts it comes and blows
howl thump away it blows
colder and colder that tapping creaks
sitting midnight
the storm to greet

Always as I'm leaving I ask myself,
    "Must I really go?"
So now I am Orpheus rising through Hades
Tempting me back as I struggle against inversion
    Eurydice
Really though, it's not that dramatic
Despite my Greek lament I will
    Always
Make my way back to you