i was obsessed. no- a feeling remorse and nostalgia
stretches of gold over algae. prairie turf interwoven to coast
bezeled beach. denizen dosage. felt closer to home
juniper fire, i never understood why i’d cry when alone
something about …
fingertip tingle. hands nestled over a looming horizon
open field just for me, dusks pyre was just another surprise
take you to tango to feel the revolver in your dress
like a fire in duress, in denial of what’s left
crested wheatgrass. nibble on the straw and just think
how irrevocably stunning, in french, how do you say pour me a drink?
verse-moi un verre. sunsets fill in oblivion, storm in a teacup
now pour me a lion. i want to hear a roar when the steam runs
now stare into silence. tick-tock. just give me a second
moment of quiet. russian roulette, soldiers are dying
we all saw it coming, how do they say it was an issue of days?
of course; a matter of time, discontinue answers left unobtained
delicate heartship, melancholy quenches the hollow
vanguard in the shadow, he only says hello in the shade
yearning acceptance -chicken soup in the thermos
chai seed tai chi. only read a book when it rains
what is your purpose – he who barely looks in the eye
hello, miss I’m sorry to interrupt you but i’m-
pupil dilation, iris diameter entropy wavelet
psychosomatic belly dive into the stasis
denim delight, dandelion prairie design
chewing on straw, crinkling grime grimacing smile
i return to this place and try to mimic a scene
no return on ideas, we’re stuck living a dream
hi. I’m okay. my name is .. (private exchange)
oceanic delight. mariana trench – lets lie on the waves
get lied to with promises as you wave your goodbyes
the we’ll soon see each others. the i cant wait to arrives
gesticulating giant, wide-eyed naivety shine
Juan Valdez roast – a vagabonds variant vibe
cash valet parking -pristine ’85 BMW e28.
cabernet offswitch. tannins drip from my IV cause i don’t bleed dna
deviate from the norm. heliocentric. her face is a star
she makes the sun turn violet, and gives rainbows their scars
technicolor stitches, wounds wash radiant art
do re mi, one way street of living, who’s to say that we are
in edens garden, dancing naked to purple rain
my dorsal fin can’t navigate the deepest waters
irregardless, blood print barely cracks the surface stain
the takeaway is mundane themes
it’s okay to want a place to scream
the days are hard fought battles, wars go on for weeks, and
hurricanes are taking shape in the subway steam
every sunday, he tithes revived percentages of hope
so a little bit inside me dies from the carcinogenic dose
AM country station blazing through the cigarette tray
grandpas epitaphs engraved in in-direct faith
12 volt Citroën culture, french press grit in my veins
vaudevillian silhouette, it’s like you barely saw her
stained-glass windowpane,
leather love-seat, Frankenmuth Bavarian auberge
accompanied by airport sound wave dispersement
dial pound eight, to reach the operator rotary nuisance
call me a mutant, because we hate feeling lonely as humans
let’s huddle around the baggage carousel until we depart
what bothers me is the converging of a million souls living apart
common courtesy talks, airplanes are altitude civilian parks
we’ve been displaced by a culture aimed to minimize faith
and dilute consumer bases, zombified mimicking ape
my father used to say – take walks when it’s pouring down rain
why? so you can revisit the bridges burned in your wake
never had a father, it was just something I said to myself
did I divulge too much? my mother always said keep to yourself
cause’ the hearts on your sleeve are a poker players favorite tell
manifest themselves as sheep who hastily offer you wool
did the vague release of my cry remind you of wolf?
hell in a handbasket, riding hood tells us we fear who we are
too many questions, not any answers. period, pause
whether its surface dwelling alone at the swamp
or an oak in a marsh, soul searching proverbial want
we’re more or less spawns of monsters nobody needs
you were my star spangled banner and I was taking a knee
subterranean breeze, vitamin pond, still smell your perfume
every once in a blue, Dahlia Divin creeps in the room
black lagoon creature. months of despondent malaise
never under the same moon, but always got in your way
every constant is change, every constant in chains
the sheriff to my merits, conversation warranted pain
follow the tunnel light or continue to walk amongst shade
politics, topic delay, boxer on the ropes
you taught me to love; but to love to be alone
a hundred teeth, sunk in deep, til’ they’re rusting at the bone
propaganda prone, post traumatic melodic drama
copacetic cathartic static, momentary sedative saga
mama said to me never mince words with misses karma
megabit verbage. sapient alma in the trenches of mock prison
velvet and soft linen, cotton henley makeshift pajama
couldnt figure you out…
kissed crevasses in your skin you were indifferent
about
you’re awkwardly distant to things that slipped through my mouth
look at you now..
Sinatra’s lovers glance, blood soaked sinful devout
the untolds dripping, gun smoke cigarette clouds
love grows thinner when sun strokes negligent doubt
what comes, goes.
hum low under floor boards or they’ll figure us out
self destruct sequence, count to zero with me
feel your feelings metamorph like metaphors in the breeze
i don’t know what i want, i just know what i need
better go home before I’m awoke and i see you
full of momentary passes focused entropy seams
beams of light bustling through cracks in the stream
pockets of time form like globules; we’d skip stones in ravine
everything’s too loud even when the volumes negative three
nothing we do can salvage this irreparable dream
que pena me da, que lo tienes sentir
shouted at you to leave, as i whispered the please
I’m the saddest man on the planet
dulcet zones become eruptions of death
memorizing vocal tones, or numbing distress
most ballads, hit home, requiem out of balance
such a synergistic release comes from, this basket of malice
ill have it to here – 22oz black coffee french press
sinning continuously, in her black coffee sun dress
anarchy is best dressed, brown leather lounge padded headrest
takes a village to raise a child, theres no one to raise it with us
pillaged through blades of grass, photosynthetic assortment
spilling your flask til its empty, blood served in a brass veil
vivider mass pavilion. mom kept the pictures of dad, still
photo album laminating. magnifying glass on an anthill
steel razor tandem. Dear, anybody, anywhere who has ears
in a position to translate. this ballad i have here
monochromatic morse code
willing to listen. put your phone down. stethoscope to a torso
I trot through universes i never knew that existed,
thinking of becoming perfect with you, seemed so delicious.
I press my lips against windows you’ve brandished
just to kiss what you’ve managed to touch
ive become calloused. and rough. galloping stallion tusk
and you vanish
suburbia chime, zirconia vertebrae. pearly white spine
glass thrown in stone houses, regular suburbia night
whirring, rewind. chronicled childhood in olive drab paint
monocle glass. wormwood and bottles of shawshank.
dissolute solitude, wanderer who wallows in maze
en route. delay for tomorrow. never promised today
virgin diary. anne frank. marie curie disease
tinture of rainbow, even if the distance is blurry to me
he, who knows the way to zihuatenejo.
furlough father. demand you to die when i say so
26 pesos what’s left in your wallet
lint and mothball, merryland. experiment omelette.
laundromat arcade quarter exchange
2 o clock shadow of death and follicle strain
these boulders were supposed to be gone when i got here
you shouldered me off. sunday morning penny loafer with frost
social commentary gabriel-lucifer talk
metamucil, retrograde. jupiter star
bolivian roast, oblivion, and a toast goes to mars
you hold my hand; but i don’t even know who you are
shout at me when indoors, but whisper weak when afar
im so close to eroding, skin growth, barely a scar
in my house; the big wolf. lungs pulse til’ exhaustion
i read a suicide note from the ghost in my closet
i dont know, if he knows if this apartment is haunted
by patriarchal pettiness, reminiscent negligent heart
maleficent maligned distant/forgot insidious offspring
with ammunition in their lips, that keep you off guard
feel the metacarpal love letters til your fingers fall off
once you step out the door, you hear the wooden creak in the floor
fell asleep at the creek daydreaming before
everytime before bed i hear footsteps coming from deep
and i hide in my closet, until they delete
REM hits me while I’m counting my sheep
counting rosary beads for every step wolf takes towards me
like neighborhood freeze tag, counting to 3
dysfunctional beings, huffing in suburbia breeze
i know that i know nothing is in love when i speak
into denizens, the medicine cabinet creaks
when you close it and i haven’t heard it in weeks
form bourbon, to curtains burnt at the seams
I’m so close to being the opposite of perfect, i scream
what emerges, a bird sits perched in a tree
what alerts him is
suburbia breeze
intact. two hundred thousand nails puncture veins in my back
whether not they’re human or metal remains to be asked
yellowpages. your name severs sapience. saps
like heavens angels. vessels fray then collapse
lord father, elevate us. why’m i so fixated on the past
separate fact from fiction. eradicate my relapse
rehabilitation at its fanciest. pinky out to brush ash from cigar
if love lasts then it’s farce. my last love seems so far
may i have the pleasure of introduction without it seeming covert
or open my mouth to talk something while we’re eating dessert
feelings deserted you, conservative dealings in cursive
from the telekinesis to hypnosis, i barely feel what your words meant
sink your teeth delicately into the flesh that’s corroding
if you feel that it’s urgent…please feel free to unload
it’s not you, or me, my dear. the psychosis
developments fleeting. camera obscura bleeding negative print
the lightest exposure came from your chest
was it a dark heart or
delicate skin
delicate skin
so disconnected. pictures of stars are trillions of seconds old
heliocentric. we spend our time wishing we could revisit a setting
i could see it in decimals. each dot a pause in a sentence
hold my hand, avalanche. bring me the check when you’re finished
mezzanine at the theater, velvet seamstress, madam Gutierrez
que romántico eres. carve my heart, au revoir mi mujer
i spend the evening in tears, like its common procedure
every droplet is a sonnet, every water stream a cathedral
where people gather, or they scatter, whether it be former or latter
and they pray to their jesus, and i pray cause i have to
there’s order in madness, rhetorical hope in the sadness
like a volcano that’s dormant or a star going dwarf
just part of it all, endorphin hull, heart to starboard
when we talk, disembark. your lips presses mute
mrs vixen, so dissolute, pixel perfect, lipstick in blue
vigil for a virgin, vicissitude, picture me as i picture you
don’t listen when you talk, kiss your ears when you moan
so petite, heavenly, pour the shot-glass, and reload
monkey see, monkeys cheek perfect on your ocular bone
cause to me, you’re as sweet, as strawberry dose
through the darkness, on horses. cobweb corrosion
cut through the bark with my sword. I’m sorry my forest
double entendre. knot in my throat.
not even sober
harlequin clone.
dark knight imposter, I’m already joker
early onset alzheimer’s,
forget what you told me
along the lines, were ostracized, but we’re all really lonely
wave down a taxi, drop me off on the corner. call me when you’re home
wait for me at the door, don’t leave me alone
lay down – the house spins. false belief, methadone.
marmalade, cherry tree, cigar leaf, telephone
qu’est-ce que c’est¿
fasten seatbelt while seated, mi amor
stand to applause, an encore, such a valid response
you’d barely feel it
you moved on, so very far.
i checked my bags at the door. viewed the empty decorum
sit at the bar. recount the experience
watch the only bag revolve round’ the oval
let me fall. so very scared
we spent an hour alone watching our eyes meet our lips my revolvers extinct. extinguishing meandering thought cradled across indifference right into addiction deference to malice. rosebud digitalis reborn grin. while I think about things I haven’t before soaked in grimace and gin while I’m singing along philosophers physics. you had me at ‘gone’ underneath the chasms we nuzzled upon
dreamt that you nightmare’d that i had dissolved
to the active involvement of our rapid devolving i caught you at 12 under moon crescent December BMW leather. something that you’ll soon remember luminous, leacherous, somehow loosened endeavors uphill battle to oblivion, where passion is glued in forever
funny; how erratic romances never seem to be better than hand in heart, avant-garde fractions remeasured you tethered my inaction with half-wit adventures
regretted the hand i played once you passed out the deck
i questioned your motives of why you accepted
my friendship, out of desire or a dying affection
like it happened out of nowhere, its hard to pretend
that im not infectious disease in dire need of a medic
i mean; at-least that’s what i get out of your attention
cause the seeds you planted have weeds in them
nirvana doesnt exist in this squander of thought if you arent elected
if the devil wears prada its because you modeled for them
this is just misjudgment of honest broads. a cautious indifference
treating genuine women with impartial disinterest
just a devilish debonair with his cavalier distinction
the hemisphere changes with its Australis emissions
so now i stare at the stars. i hate that im this
paint constellations with apathetic detachment
atmospheric phenomenon, in hindsight it was madness
so now we wait
wait for the sky to hit limelight while i cascade into blackness
damn it
i’ve scrapped my last five writings, with the opening sentences starting with,
“its hell in this darkness” “dearly departed, please be here for my heart”
the other three were as stark “i hate being alive”
don’t seem to remember, one rubric: ‘demons inside“.
life is overrated. diluted with wine
my tears empower me. tailspin fusion designed
to reinforce and devour these current sutures. i try
irritated. i could feel the torque overpowering madness
the endless script. scour for breadth in callousness.
out of breath on land, but at peace underwater
no feelings, this author. reveals at the end of the chapter
that he doctored/remastered his slivers of sonder
its physical misconduct. picture cigarette soft burn
sepia softer, silky seeping…. mossberg
you’re examining my life on repeat
and it’s slightly appeasing to people reading each piece to critique the mystique i deliver each weekend- or month, or year.
its weird. i can’t survey time-frames in increment values
separating migraines from lachrymation is sad too
just script what i have when my souls in a vacuum.
red dwarf fighting a black-hole ready to eat me
dissect the inside of my pen, where ash grows tethered beneath
the mass knows, the malice that backhands this skeleton species
youll find remnants of relic of this deeply defined, delicate e.t.
a cavalier lifestyle, the atmosphere. where sadness smears nice smiles
in half a year, went from happy tears to having fear light fires
a tower with a floor unbolted. i’m a boatmen with no course. no joke.
thousand waves, found their way. like an omen or horoscope.
had the wind knocked out of its sails, with winds brought up from hell.
sing by myself and it sounds beautiful; help
when i’m around super sopranos i can’t sing all that well.
an imperfect mesh of nervousness that curls from my snarling lips
like a surge of restlessness that stems from the furl of depression. defensive. protective. self deprecation, or self preservation?
dedicated a distaste for eternity, and to being enigmatic
if you ain’t honest with yourself who can you expect to feed you a truth
that dismantles your courage. without feelings of soothing
i see a lighthouse that i’ll never reach, so i kiss my lantern with fervor
feel the SURGE, of A BURNING sun when you fuck with the solar flares
or don’t- my souls ensnared. most likely tell you that i don’t care.
touch paintings of fuel like braille i consume
my muse – it entails within rules of varying doom.
feed off energy that doesnt exist in a physical sense
even spiritually and, its progression is hasty. correct me if im wrong but i think that’s the start of an inherently crazy apparently brazen human being, with narratives caved in.
communicate with airwaves, that illuminate the way
layed in a zany loop of naysayers. that feed them daily soup to trailblaze
tied up in this phalanx suit of grayness, where hatred blooms the helmet
doesnt have a rhyme or reason for simple explanation
that in theory is, relevant to his seering insaneness. i dont fucking get why im like this,
i accept all and any likeness to help me on this quest. or this crisis.
i carry the heads of lions on my belt. and then it’s goodbye
I salivate at the thought of atom lasers and waves of splattered rainbow
the way they collaborate on a acid halo.
technicolor schemes, that i’d envy more than me.
oh, what it is to be, a color never dreamed.
enactment of life, elapsed by the clockwork
collapsing of time. facets of ‘why does it all hurt?’
a village helps a villager, if the villagers hurt
do these pills help the piller if his pillars are burnt?
his bridges are burned? his highways corroded
how do I ride into the sunset if I can’t shift out my motor
road to hell is paved with gold embellished shades
it’s so subjective. wave hello to your soul in separate planes
i don’t know.
stuck in a layer of concrete. put flower petals to the metal
a gentle giant so powerful, yet afraid of his heartbeat
accept what we think we deserve- excuses for bad behavior
human nature to constantly be stuck in reverse
it gets worse. “but it gets better” nothing to learn from forever
the souls dark. wholeheartedly wrapped in fatigue
thought of happiness being something that you have to achieve
awkwardness. my bed cries with me when I’m sad in my sheets
trail of tears that supersedes the native retreat
i create a path of logic built on a mountain of lies
mountain lions call me out on my pathological lying
fake it, till you make it. hate it, till you love it
love it that you hate me, it jets the fuel i huff in
was taught to cherish things that were romantically scenic
sucked nostalgia dry ’till nostalgia was bleeding
drank the blood from a chalice, and soaked up its privilege
youth gave me a run for my money when i was broke to begin with
a loner with dimming hope, so dull it begins to show
a biography of my life would expose darkness over light
like an eclipse, with a plot twist most would think morose
eskimos have 50 words for snow, I acquiesce 50 words for hate
most manifest themselves, in bloody knuckles. bloody gauze and tape
learned to roll with the punches, but humans werent meant to roll
a ball inside of me, that snowballs bigger everytime its cold
everytime i hold, myself when im at home.
im a droll, dry-amusement, type of guy with nice intentions but with bad conclusions, soft witted, mild human, sophisticated tall thinker. with a soul that’s sly and stupid, controlled environment. spry delusion. im told, it’s tiring, to expose your entire being in poems, and in higher reading.
i never said goodbye once, cause i believe in good karma endings
nice guys finish last but you learn more when you’re not as condescending
I map out entire existences in the blink of an eye. I could hire statisticians for the things I’d describe. Statistical paralysis. Analysis by analytics. It’s lonely in the library, & things considered semi-cryptic. focused on the binary, I do the math on how to rule you. it’s crucial, at worst. at best, it’s the crest’s pivotal curve of your numeral worth. I take your pros-&-your-cons and expose them to darkness, it’s the only way light doesn’t reach the holes in my heart. I’ll lay em atop of a cube. Analyze the three dimensions that you provide me with. through a lens made out of optics formed out of the knowledge. The collage that you provided keys too. Base data on inflections of voice, first impressions, interventions,…something like a robot. I picture your arms carrying babies. Or not.
I watch myself in the future kiss you, I don’t live in the moment. I base my actions based on inaction. Facets of your personality. I imagine imaginations painted by molasses. Stain the glass with satin, every phase attained by magic, any phrase you say just happens; take the grain of salt and lay it in my bandage.
Everything’s collapsing. my scent of cologne embeds itself in your bed and at home, I could smell a smidgen off your breath, in your clothes, I could command your every movement when I sense pheromones. Underneath your breast and your bones, I unhinge flesh like velcro, my very own skeleton. laugh at I love yous, and love when you laugh, you. tender, ecstatic, bobble doll of synapses. I’d scientifically describe your most indescribable features, sync a timeline of my desire to reach you. it’s sci-fi. It’s see through. It’s highlighted. Something a drone would probably do. Spark a creative pattern through the arching of the hue.
I embark on lifeless journeys of love, and delineate fractions based on the perfectest touch. Succumb to tithes of jury. Put me on trial, and give me 10 percent of you. THEY SAY 90 percent of all human interaction is non verbal. 10 percent is this: Arguments, clergy. The nonsense unfurling. I wish I could calm the constant stream of knowledge we learn by being earthy.
Human. confusing. It’s messy. I react by reaction time. Read sociological patterns to brush up on my intuition. Set impossible standards. I bird watch in my mantle. I light a candle for every soul I dismantle. Wax factory deluxe, the crux of the mad man babbling himself in a notepad on his iPhone about how he has… nothing. Man VS Machine, clockwork orgasm. The hands turning to me. I try to remain myself, but I’m to caught up sometimes, on how to breathe, when to breathe, the exact figure of when I made you laugh. And painfully reenact the environment so it happens again. Emotional car wreck. a toaster with arms.
I envy real writers. It’s robotic, it’s sick. It’s over the top berating. it’s a boiling pot, it’s cynic. I hate it. I hope that you love me, I’m not what I am, not what you know. it’s okay. I’ve yet to become a sentient prose. how long is a century? I want to become something….beyond the patternized percussion the heartbeat that my lungs give.
It’s a time-frame of discussion, where parallel universes meet each other. Oxygen. Breathes breaths, I could hear the silence in-between sex. I could see the inside of your eyelids when you dream depth, and I wish I would die before we even meet/met. built a labyrinth, two lefts make a wrong, if you’re right then you’re wrong. Everything’s wrong. only way to be right is to be yourself, I bleed the buzz of my alcohol out through a scenic route.
