Keys

Looking for love like
plucking aces blindly.
But maybe she’s got it.
I’d politely offer my services,
but I’m too civil and her
batting eyelashes are
sending me Morse code.
This hypothetical view
is more of singing the blues
under my breath, and I
think she hears.
At this point though
dots and dashes blur to
prefixed protocol
demanding that I not proceed.
It’s all in the code.

Rhetorical (II)

Now applying hindsight, the
     tension
          building


(being a constant)
left a burn.
Some like it hot.
Apply liberally to me.

Rhetorical (I)

Artistic by nature.
My lines look more like
broken pick-ups tied, equally transparent as
any attempts to play it cool.
You can see my eyes, even clutch contact.
But we don’t ask, mustn’t ask.
Hold any inventive expression
on the tips of my fingers, ready
to pose every roadblock I
can fathom, because I want to make
this hard. But I won’t ask. I can’t.

Carry On

My little piano, I’m wide-eyed;
jaw still on the floor.
I refuse to count lessons learned because
lille venn, every song ends.
But I’ll carry your tune with me.

Daylong

I’ll admit I was selfish.
Wanting to keep every second,
every everything
I could grapple head/hands/heart around.
At the time it wasn’t much:
daylong silence and
overdone thoughts.
And just like everyone else
I blamed myself at
every available corner and
cried my pre-dried eyes to drought.


And I’ll admit I wasn’t there to
say my goodbyes, fully or tangibly.
But I swear to a god I’m not sure
I want that I tried. I swear by
more than I own and more than
I’m told. Dirty bird, you know that I swear.
And although these days I maintain
dry eyes, I finally found you.

Every Book

Sessions in my mouth
slowly turned to ashen words:
stained my tongue.
I’ll speak as though I’m not
spewing soot into every
vacant cavity I come across.
And then there was you.
Gaping, you stood.
Taking the brunt of my senseless
stream of discontinuous drivel.
For reasons I’ll never know,
keeping mouth open wide. Almost
saw down to where a spine
should reside, but I stopped short
of intrusive. Maybe my
infected dialect found pity halfway;
maybe a plural pronoun
best suited for sporadic use.
Meanings mostly loitered.
We vanquished. Vanished.
I’m waking up alone.

Pomp

Drawing blanks to conserve ink.
I salvage each page
until mind’s circles are more like
vinyl.
Think not of my disproportioned
dissertation, instead
think of the sea…
Spinning out of control.
We’re all underwater, and
you’re just noticing now.
Sea foam shades on lilac escapades.
I see you calculating;
there may be more at stake
than initially esteemed.

Sparkle (Pt. II)

Thaw aside, I seem to have
room for only one
dislocated jaw in mind
and this time, it isn’t mine.
Is that even allowed?
The past is leading me on
,and oh,
Honey Bee,
I’ll devour your intentions.
Forever sweet little methinks.

Ravenous Race

My sight was first with
vision coming in a close
second glance at a possible
third chance to steal you back.
Lust was in last at this point,
just shooting from the hip.
But hot damn,
what a shot he’s got.

Thinking too Hard

First thought was to
let the wind guide leaves
back to respective trees;
second was to swing solely
to miss by a long shot;
third hollowed my mind
leaving thoughts empty and
deprived, and
now we both know to
hold tight to the moon
because, doggone Maker,
we’ll be meeting you soon.

Too Refined

Oh, Mother Superior
you know what I like;
better, what I shouldn’t.
Deep in my bones I know I’m alive.
I swear, my ears are here: listening.
That’s a nod and a half, maybe more.
Even polite enough to call a cab.

You might be surprised,
someday I’ll have a soul to call my own.

Known Glitches

Shock value.
must have been written
on contingent context.
Stomach in knots
and nots in mind.
Yet here we are.
And while every thought
is like my back against a new wall,
I craft new caves, fashion new caverns
for her eyes only.
Maybe I missed something?

Smoldering

half whisper/half kiss
Her eyes,
like white sheets
are lies.
raspy future tense.

Daytime Brother

As I sank through the floor
control pooled between my ears;
how daft of me.
Asserted someday
I should use that vacancy.
Every word like a bite from a silver apple:
Divine. And they glisten.
Still sinking, now I’m the third person.
And yeah, alright, so we’re alive.
Looked at me as to say “and now what…”
Better excuses mostly,
hopefully.

Bad Seed

I’m running my mouth.
Is it wrong it amuses me?
I’m feeding every ego I can find,
except mine: that bleak thing.
Waste away! I declare.
I’m a bad book, no surprise.

Harsh Reality

Wishful thinking: no thoughts.
Logic-less and tongue-tied
maybe I should learn to whistle.
But I like thinking of ghosts.

Ardor

Wisdom, you filthy mistress;
almost infectious with your
famine affection.
Serving perfectly tempting
rancorous radiation in
voltaic portions.
Oh, I must confess:
I can taste the trickery
going down with every bite,
yet for seconds I beg.

Silver-Footed

Hot-bedded Thebes, something impious.
Sly Nereid,
how fitting you called me your Odysseus;
finally showing your Roman loyalties.
Dirus Ulixes,
you slanderer.

Spirit Animal

Am I learning lessons?
Occasionally deliberated martyr state of mind
dispels Phantom Heart Beat to the harbor.
Channeling confused retroactive atonement,
can’t help but laugh and blink one eye.
Dottie (x3)


How unfortunate for me.
(oh I love our little interludes Dottie)


Begging for some vulpine guidance,
it would seem my spirit animal was you.
And if your heart was in the right place
how could you vaporize my existence?
I suspect a famine fueled foe.

Cheapened

Waited by the sea.
Lately give it time and
you’ll be fine run through
my mind.
But please,
come with me.

Serrated Notation

My pen’s run amuck, swopping
ink with just any old thesis.
How long has this been going on?
I’ll admit the only trepidation
is not knowing if my every
word was rogue ballpoint profligacy or
verity I can claim.
Ink collateral is lost skin deep.
Nefarious scribbles preserve my insecurities.

Two Hundred

There we go. Oh, here she goes:
the plunge. emit radiation humbly
a perfectly executed system.


lets not focus onward

Pheromones

Outwardly affectionate:
future fiendish fallacies
calibrate accordingly.
She still knows, even shows,
her eye’s intentions of
approaching the primitive.
And how futuristic of her.
Freshly frivolous fabrications
facilitate forward motion.
History sings, even screams:
she jumps vernacular guns!
I’m left thinking of new ways 
to say I told you so.

Stumble

Using a more genuine approach
and swearing by more than
chemical reactions or
malice,
she followed headlights
until she found her way home.

She felt like falling in love again.

Mercy

The day we became strangers.
Fond memories sought
rather than recalled.
Because it's not like
we’re yesterday anymore.
And it's not like my mind is ready,
rotting in hell; pieces falling.
Maybe this is learning but
I still won't call you a mistake.
I watched your legs shake.
And, oh lord, those eyes;
yeah I've fallen apart before but
when I saw those stars fade…


Lovely black holes.
Just please shine.

Short Breaths

I’m waiting by the sea,
only exhaling:
breathing room.



Spine sinks at the thought.

Going Steady

Burden beats steady on
insecurity, and
i wish i could
watch and mend;
know damn well
forwards/backwards
i would bend
for You.
but Burden beats steady
on the mind; unready.
and i don’t know my
way around hell-bent
adamancy.
thought it’d be more like
a hesitant second,
maybe meet halfway.
now i know. and i’m sorry.
Burden, i beat so steady.

The Pink Room

I see now why
memories
are meant mostly
for ebbing tides.
Parting,
I saw your coattails.

Next Time

Sounds.
You run, anon settle;
pavement turned
Silence:
my least favourite in
your repertoire.
A lack of any
known energy.
Ability to bitter souls.