fragment one

broken mind thoughts
find thoughts
blowing past(ure)( her)
faster.

de flowers

Treading silently I wept
Water, leaving puddles where I crept
Awkwardly trying not to raise alarm
Tangled and still under her arm

With day dripping down the wall,
Orange obscuring all
Morals, made meet by quips
Always ripening between her lips
Needing permission to release,

Her body lined in white sheets,
Open window's fingers of light
Winding their way between tight
Legs.

[untitled]

insatiable
in stains
insane
and the sitting silent stitching silence
in blue notebook lines
duck, duck, drunk duck
dizzy, dizzy
goose.

blackbird buddhism

I paused today
to watch the ballet
of two crows on the next door roof,
not aloof.
one heard the call of a car going past
and flew away
fast.
The other sat for a little while
and left a pile
of white dripping down.
The sound of his wings,
a rustle in the breeze.
I watched them turn their heads
to their own beats
instead of together in neat
rhythm.
I saw enlightenment
in the hint of each feather.

uncontrollable spinning

In my drunken absence
I find my passion
absurdly driven
by the force that binds
the world together
Yet there's no gravity in the empty cavity
of a body here on paper
It's been erased by distance
of days away from you.
I'm draped over electricity
for a lack of something better
to hang on to.
And if I knew
where you were
I'd dream about you when I sleep
but you're always moving
at a rapid pace
Evading me as I trace
the spirals you leave
in your waking moments
through my life.
I'm kissing the paper
with my lips and cheeks
hoping words can speak
their way down your neck
to your shoulders
Where I want to lay my head.
But now I sleep instead,
Because it's the only way to find peace.

Retroflections

Blinded by the rhythm
I'm amazed at what's within them
Grayed out by the smoke
curling around my eyelashes
We're rehashing the ways
we've spent our days
but all I'm getting is hope
that tomorrow will be worth
our memories
It's strange to me how things pile
up
As we're getting in touch
with our inner demons
discovering our meanings
as we give birth
to identity
affinity with what we feel
infinitely surreal
in a Monkey House
filled with tigers
making us liars as we mate
with truth.
We're all burning on pyres
in guilt
for the sins we've committed
But never admitted
against humanity and insanity
searching for the root of evil
in the people we love.
It hurts me to know
that long ago
I tried to find it in you.
Even though I had no reason to
No reason but the season
but the winter
to consider you my foe.

Seasonal Love Song

You’re like an autumn day
wrapping me in blankets of leaves
that crunch beneath our feet
as we watch our breath appear.
You glow warmly in the colors of the trees
igniting the parkway as we speed towards the sea.
In your temperate days,
I find myself wishing you’d stay
a little longer.
Yet when fall has been felled by a frosty foe
I find myself wrapped up in your layers
as I lie with you, pure as snow
and angels stretch out from our fingertips.
I linger in the moments we meet
begging the fire in your eyes
to warm me
as we sit in a circle around stolen wood.
Still, you are as soft as a spring breeze
tickling my face
as you draw my hair back and forth
across my nose.
When I inhale you, I find myself
in a field filled with tulips
as ours touch.
Dangling our toes in the pond,
I know love has never been so new.
Yet summer leave us tumbling down
dunes,
Sleeping until noon,
and wishing we could be closer.
Our sweat turns sweet in the heat
of the moment before a lavender bath
in the creek.
Wet bodies flowing over each other,
babbling of stones and waterfalls
Your sweet nothings whispered into my ear
by fairies and fireflies
staring at the stars.

Drunken Haikus

Breaking things,
Forsaking things.
I’m taking time to find my
rhymes.
Lost forever in a pile
of shredded paper.
The silence I once savored
isn’t doing me a favor
reminding me of the blankness
there on my mind.
I was one of a kind
Now I’m a fly on the wall
instead of collapsing alone in
a bathroom stall
writing haikus on the wall.
Three lines were all I needed.
To tell them I was there.
Now I write pages
that say nothing.
I try to rhyme
but the rhythm falls at my feet
Tapping to keep the beat.

Revolution Song

The voices in my head won’t shut up
I’m afraid to wake up.
My world is a padded cell
and I can feel my heart
banging on the walls.
Who knows how long I’ve been
here.
The air is getting heavy and
I don’t know if I’m ready
to take deep breaths.
It feels like death every time
my mind overlaps
Deja-vu showing you
over and over as I search
over and over as I search
for cover in the fallout
of peace.
I can’t find a reason
with the silence surrounding me
No reason to hold on
freefalling in sanity
My body longs to move again
Rhythmically pushing the innocence aside.
Opening myself back up
To help me remember why I exist.
I used to want to slit my wrists
But never had the courage to press down

When’s the last time I was
real?
did I ever feel?
Did you know that when I took that pill,
It was the only time I ever
killed myself.
I’m still searching for my grave
too brave to give up.
An occupied nation,
I’ll never be the same.
My history erased
when I faced a line unafraid.
I want to fear
Be queer
and quiver at night from
not getting it right.
I don’t want to sleep alone.
I want to make my home
inside someone else.
I don’t care if that makes me
weak.
I’m tired of hearing you
speak of what I am supposed to be
I’m me and no one
can take that
and make it
something else.
I feel productive when I’m self-destructive
And break things just to hear them shatter.
Nothing’s the matter
I’m just ready for my pen
to tell the truth.
To begin over
To sell myself for what it’s worth.
A rebirth.
There’s a time for owning up to one’s flaws
And this is mine.

Fucked Up Dream

Crying is a game
I play with myself
When I can’t feel
I am only real in writing,
Fighting every sane thought I have
I am only real when I conceal
all the things that make me
fake.
I can’t take knowing
That I’m just a pile of
fucked up dreams.
When I am writing, it seems,
I control the world
of my poem and my pen
and the rhythm I place
in the space that surrounds
my soul.
I am whole on paper
I control the paper
as I lose myself.
My head is pounding
as I am sounding out
the doubt I have
of reality.
My eyes won’t focus
The skies are closing
I’m tripping over myself
Exposing my lack of depth.
I find it in drugs and
in the rhythm of our breath
Letting you complete me.
But I’m still searching for insanity
to make me feel
surreal.