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The only ghosts I’ve met
expressed hesitant sentiment
that I talk too much.
Having come around solely
to hush my mortal sounds.
Like bragging, they say.

Shadow Envy

Lover lays close, well
too close to my
raged depraved hungry
hollow eyes.
Reluctant honesty writhes
closer by the hour and
my past is a good excuse.
I promised things differently.
Lover lay closer, let
dollar signs fill your
sensitive sighs with
welcomed lies.
Use the past as an excuse.
I won’t say a word.

Or Me

Who will destroy us all?
I’ve got a bad feeling about the
quality of sleep her eyelids boast.
Lucid turned vivid, to hell with this.
She’s the worst in me; dreams and all.

One Year

Kissing halts, hips left unwrapped:
carnal displays. (Illegal tender.)
Another round of oh shit recognitions.
And it’s my mistake.
It’s not that I don’t fancy you.

Black Box

Providing a more manageable mediocre,
keeping daily grind
in mind and side-effects aside.
Proxified.
Thoughts tossed, marked unjust, and
replaced by ever increasing milligrams.
Kick back my comrade.
Our heads are balloons until,
like everything else,
they flatten too.
Tongue reaching out for once thought
solutions, only finding reuptake inhibitions
and adverse interactions.
Ex-helping hand found cause,
driving us mad.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

S/T/E/R/E/O

Static.
Frequencies staring into my demi-soul. And then
that song came on.
Cued reality with bum/bum/be/dum.
I couldn’t tell you a single word, but
they had to have heard the news.
Shamelessly rooting for you.
Like I was taking what I wanted…