palindrome

it’s
my inner voice. bragging and shy. so very coy
abruptly impassioned in its perilous joy
panicking. sulking.
abdicate holiness.
i salivate at the thought of having you hold me
heartbeat in my abdomen slowing
rapid eye movement. palindrome dreaming
what is the meaning?
we battle of the Alamo’ed the last of mohicans
i lament having spoken, “i love you and mean it”
there wasn’t any valid attempt to salvage our dreaming
no valiant feature. no heroine vouching for
just palindrome sequence. folklore and pretense
commodore drowning with his diamond princess and dreadnought boat
Goliath’s visage over david’s corpse and slingshot stones
a picture worth a thousand words, abstract distortion
how happy id be, if i didn’t have to be coping
passive aggressive when I’m manipulating my prose
this vacuum of time. pen inking words to expose
an odd inquisition to want composition to rot and erode
despondent, disposed. shook like bouts of epilepsy
loathe that i have to remind you to remember me
never felt as close to you, until you were leaving
no country for my old man left me in a state of bereavement
tired of this. esophagus, loaded with words
that’ll never break light or get its attention deserved
the most painful thing i did was losing myself
my memoir of dark thoughts steadily creep off the shelf
over saturated with half-love, masked-up infatuation
I’m so exposed
..at night time my heart wakes me up
it asks me what happened with so and so
i don’t know. please. don’t ask me again.

last time you said stop

sigh

i don’t get it. they tell me to write happy things.
the thing is you don’t feel the need to discuss your happiness on paper when you’re happy. you just embrace the moment and live it. i don’t want to talk about that.
momentary silence. dusk lit bedroom apartment
buzzing of cars from traffic afar, it’s when i
stare into myself. melancholy loves company
and misery loves to fuck with me, it’s pitiful
she sticks her head in while I’m telling a story
the room keeps spinning. I’m terribly sorry
today i apologize. i can’t be myself
try again tomorrow, bring me some help
and the day after that. don’t fade into black
amy said it best, when she said she’s treading a troubled track
been in love with a gunslinger. run my back
with your fingernails, tell me you’ll stay
leave scars, dig deep. i’ll tell you it’s okay
with whispered breath, inhale, exasperated lust
even if it hurts me, stab my grazing touch
it hurt writing those last four lines. they weren’t even much
that’s the thing with being a writer, your emotion is raw
like pouring a potion labeled love into a saucepan and stirring
caustic deterrence. awestruck with how, my wrong spats of burning
passion turn to rorschach’s, where i can’t discern it
call back. let me hold your arms back. let’s learn this
way to explore our bodies. near my chest there’s an armed guard
trained in combat, don’t go near there. fade into all black
fall asleep in my wine house. dizzily pour up your last drink
make sure the glass clinks. i’ve been told that noise is better than the absinthe
better than your absence
better than the last..
you’re better when we laugh. think
to the last time you’ve told yourself to stop
why did you go again?
sometimes silence is nice. most times i despise the need for questions
my secretary’s favorite line is “would you like to leave a message?”

i know what i need 

I dont know what I want

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

fötter day

you can hear the…

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

to miss P

it was a matter of why. statuesque beauty over vodka and wine
hourglass figurine. when you come around it becomes tough to tell time
seductress stolichnaya. brunette, bridal, bohemian
it’s cruel how without even trying you leave me
in a state of dreams where I’m hardly breathing
at the Gala. a seamstress couldn’t replicate your body shape
you look awfully familiar….it’s been awhile since i’ve been in this hypnotic state.
eyes are pools of island bays, emphasized by shine of geysers
a vivifying type of way, to kiss your lips would feel like fire
to put them out, i’d have meet your jewels of diamonds
only a fool could deny, this muse that emphasizes grace
electrifying distress.Prostovian princess with a crystallizing gaze
accent so alluring, the way you pronounce your words overarched
id feel your tongue twist cherry stems in my heart

delicate skin: negative print 

who’s barely  

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 

last 5 titles [updated 3.31.16]

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