Adoration

I was clinging to the sides
for dear life
as I poured my soul out.
By the time I realized how much
I was saying, the room
was flashing lights.
Now I have height, a shadow,
and room to fall.

Footprints

I watched your footprints, not feet,
lead away from me.
Thought maybe if I thought
you were only a ghost
feelings could be phantom too.
But when you stopped walking
and my eyes caught up to
the souls of your feet,
I felt. Meaning materialized
and senses were no longer pallid.
Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so much
if there weren’t another
set of footprints
running alongside yours.
She had feet too.
She wasn’t a ghost either.
She was the steady stream of companionship.
The footprints
I could never be.

Plan C

The last time I said I love you
and meant it
you struck the words straight to the ground
and they found new meaning
mingling with the dirt.
Building up a tolerance for bovine lies,
I waited to pick them back up.
This time I’ll be more vigilant, maybe
launch them right at you,
square in your eyes so that when dirt
trickles off and clouds your vision you won’t know,
it was love that hit you.

But dust clears.

All Systems Go

Clinking against his throat
his enlightened vibrations
consumed me, rejuvenating
drums as they passed along
through my thin white lines.
In awe, I chimed in praise,
hailing yellow disguises
and chasing flashing lights.
But my ambience fell flat;
he didn’t speak my claptrap.
Green crept in, exhausting
his meaning down the boulevard.

Unfaithful.

I feel the interlude
to the breakdown;
chorus again.
Cheap repetition,
maybe I mean it this time.
Pleading strings
striking harmonies.
All the while I’m stuck
holding back belts,
not ready to move on.
Verse one, take two.

Watch the World

Sitting, watching the world
exhale.
Off its axis, turned to me for friendly advice.
Taught to spin from young
I exclaimed the sky was too clear.
Hazy days, cloud’s waves
make for motion.
Blue is too easy a distraction
to get lost in.

Maps

I love you, but you love maps.
Maps with direction and routes;
planned escapes.
Laid out, easily accessible
to doubtful fingertips.
With no itinerary,
you face the unknown.
Atlas lack hesitation
and you find solace in knowing
wherever you end up
you’ll find someone you don’t recognize.
I tell you I love you,
you turn to maps.

Grey Meaning.

Lately I’m settling,
looking inside and turning up
only shades.
I want to find full colours,
not grey scale truths
and feeling.
I’ve found adjectives are no longer
in my best interest,
but even trying to keep it simple
I succumb to hindrances.
More lost than I’ve ever been,
I won’t admit defeat.
Not yet.
But when most days consist of
killing time, my mind has no choice

but to wander.

Composure

Split decision.
The head I called mine.
Incision.
My now bleeding seam,
no sweet nothings hidden inside
or safe kept secrets.
More like maggots and lies,
rotting dreams.
Forgotten.

Two Hours

To be frank, I can’t hear
the world crashing around my ears.
It’s something crazy, deconstructed.
Somehow I imagined it different,
limbs still intact perhaps.
And you said nothing.
Bombs away.

Complacent

Ask about obscenities before you close your eyes
to part the tides of dreams for gleaming beams
falling flat without a shadow.
I've lost the ground but found the sound
you left me in the sky, never thinking
I could get this high.
I want you screaming confessions.

S-25 Berkut

Lungs heavy with thoughts left unsaid,
no room left in my head for
side winding words shooting from all corners
of your mouth, always hitting their mark.
My ears left ringing, I'll spring for a feeling
outside myself.
A little new, a little broken,
can I borrow a sentimental something?
used, abused, old news to me
I'll sing you sweet nothings when you aren't listening.
Its only always the beginning anyway.

Crickets

cricks from jaw bone neglect
louder than words that don't quite
spill anymore.
leaky faucets running
always leaving me half empty.