Trials Of An Aspiring Sociopath

The Walking Tree

2010-11-11T19:33:00.000-05:00

As we sought our answer,

We had slain that which stood before us,

Slicing at the knuckles of vines as

They receded with malice.

We braved the innocent with little thought or remorse,

Merely in search of an aesthetic.

Enter The Walking Tree.

Stoic with traces of grace and nobility,

He championed four legs,

Wandering the amazon with humility.

¨Press forward, and you shall find your answer.¨

He perservered with a reverence to his homeland.

A deep, admiring silence was paid to this noble creature.

Our necks were kissed by the envoys,

Pierced veins injected essence

Our arms and legs carressed by this fluorescent presence.

And as Dusk fell upon us,

So did the weight of our poisons.

We laid in the deep rust with no visibile horizon.

One arose.

With calloused skin and a softer heart,

He clutched my shoulder.

With a warmth that thickened the lyrics, he told me:

This is not ours.

No matter how many lines you draw on maps,

No matter how many signs you post,

You cannot take it.

With a smile, he turned away from the path,

Slowing his pace with every step.

His arms outstretched,

as if cultivating an embrace.

.

Stone Man

2010-08-25T12:25:00.000-04:00

We sat on pillars
overlooking those clouds everybody else had their heads in.
They always told me I was a little too tall,
But my Humpty Dumpty steeze
was apparently unapparent to me.

And the pieces never returned to symmetry.
The cracks coagulating,
burning up the ringlets of the imagery
in the veins of this tattered memory.
But with a nice overcoat I still attract the revery,
suck up the venom of the victims
incinerating the good-note endings.

Now, I could sip on false serenities,
but the pleasantries are blending
with the muck of far too many facades.

I drip pebbles off the tip of my nose,
secrete stone out my eyelids.
Dip into my ribcage,
take spoonfulls of concrete.
There is no exterior,

so walk away,
before I release the toxins
and tear at the tendons.

Don't Fade

2010-06-26T01:31:00.000-04:00

There are wisps of wind in her whispers
in this crisp, clear winter is when I best hear
the breath in my ear as it dissipates with distance
stale bitter tears blister my cheek bones and
and I am left
chasing the wind.

And the splinters spill from my eye lids
as I lose sight of blue-silver gazes.
And the seams split as the darkness consumes that December.
I am severed in two,
An open wound,
I can't wear this porcelain much longer,
Regret is seeping from the cracks.

I found solace in her skin,
Love in her eyes.
Emptied, evermore.
Transient are these moments
Without her embrace.
Fleeting are these endeavors.

As she fades,
I cling to photographs and forgotten sunsets,
My chest is riddled with heart strings,
and I fear I may lose the scars.
The healing is heart wrenching.

Walk through my door.
Just once more.

Anti Matter

2010-06-10T03:21:00.001-04:00

It's anti matter.
this pattern was ill conceived.
The seeds of this synthetic piece
are here to cover up these jagged seams.
ragged dreams and plastered wings,
this scene isn't so seemingly giving.

When I pick a pedal point,
you pick a pasture.
And when I show the reds in my eyes
drop a line from the past here,
because we've sunk far too many battleships
to call this a game anymore.

There were drops of sentiment in your throat
when you spoke the truth,
Then again, there always has been.
I guess I was just one of those fucked up grooves in your vinyl
just another spinal tap to drink from.

We sought a grayer morning
fizzled moods soothed our wounds.
Our incandescence was a product of a hangover perspective,
dressed in electric essence, plagued by the national message
drift forward, do your best kid,
fall into the rest.

When the crystals of our conception
are bursting all around us,
catapulting shards of our existence like rain drops
I can spot the low roars and the curdled hums
curl up in the semblance of a shelter.

If it's anti matter we breathe,
then let us rip our bodies broken,
blackened with the charring.
Let the shock fall to nothing,
let the shattered nerve endings
create some distant noise in the evening.

I'm dreaming of a white November,
where I left you by the pacific.
I crack a little more at every second glance.

The Resurgence of the Marionettes

2010-05-28T04:09:00.000-04:00

And If I
Could tell you
A story,
I would lie.
Yeah, I would lie.

Because when we speak,
We smile,
But don't worry,
That's alright.
Yeah, That's alright.

It tugs on my strings
Tug of war on the arms of bitter kings.
Cut before the bones
These tattered wings have lost their need
Those battered strings
Stitch my knuckles like cast iron millipedes
Lock my wrists and employ the reach
Force my knee
And I will pray

But I
Am not
A wounded eagle.
I am not the child in the corner.
I am not a leper.
I am not another blood spot on your dead man walkway.
I am not broken glass.
I am not
Broken.

Because there is something.
Here.
There is a sidewalk on my forehead.
I am thorns formed on necks of orchids
I'm chorus effects and born-again's
I am nothing more than aborted chords,
Dormant, abhorrent to the core and
I can’t even feel the four’s anymore.
I'm knocked up with lava rocks,
Pregnant with cobblestones.
The soldered bones of that copper gold
Splinter in this coddled cold.

Because this chest is a stalk of cherry pits
Wrought with carefree grit
And a hint of kerosene
It lights up the string theories inside of him
That glassy grin is widenin' but,
You know, In spite of them

Because I wear streaks of monotone and serotonin.
Bouncing from the edges of the end-zones and
Dotted lines seep through my pores like dark ink
And divide the centers,
Wrapping and interweaving through the surroundings
Enveloping the shells of bystanders.

I've got a whole lot of broken clocks round my throat,
But I bring the fire of a thousand coarse soldiers.
Distorting the functions,
Breaking the age of somethin',
I return in blazing eruption.

And If I
Could tell you
A story,
I would lie.
Yeah, I would lie.

Because when we speak,
We smile,
But don't worry,
That's alright.
Yeah, That's alright.

She swims deep in my horizons,
Draws my gaze towards the return,
And it keeps me.
me.

Meh

2010-05-20T22:18:00.000-04:00

There are pinwheels in his shoulder blades,
ivory keys in his stomach as the "star-crossed" blaze in the cross-fades.
Old man graced with gold hands
and cold clamps 'round his wrists,
grins thick with bent lips
and he hits the red rims when he speaks.
His dreams of Genvieve leave fiends clean
but he's got that hook in his step
quiver in his reach
future falling out his back pockets,
Davy Crockett's in the walkway
and he knows he can't stop it,
can't take part in heart lockets
but he's got shards of soul in his forearms and
nothin's gonna break that.

So he walks.

Neverlonger

2010-05-08T21:30:00.000-04:00

Transcendent in the worlds around me,
Transparent in the swirled surroundings
Transferring
hurtful birthing of curdled yearning
I'm earning my penance in these corn fields
these thick thorns peel coils from the mouse holes
now, soul-skinned bones soaked in raw serotonin
I saw nebula's in her lines
like blind times
long before I let the cold in.
Western winds are rough and
The blood is flushed and
The galaxies are blending,
The lines are blurring
And I'm circumnavigating the compressions
sifting through the dust
the coarse, restless grains
trying to find the words
coated with the paralysis of her timbre
"Come back to me."
They ring in my head
feeding back and feeding back
searing my ear drums
floating along the blacks and golds
I dreamt of old words big names.
Now I just want to be a storyteller.

Pestilence

2010-05-04T21:06:00.000-04:00

It's been far too long
since the mirror last spotted the stars
in the knots on my eyelids.
far, far too long
since the crescents have fallen.
so god damn long
since I've felt it resonate in my marrow.
since I've felt it.
I dream of charred wicker's and Novocain sunsets.
I smile viscous like honey
melt my insides
drift into this marble method
I am wretched wrecked with pestilence
led to flame by effervescence
riddled with feigning moments
I can see it burning from here,
I can feel the rhythms echo,
I hold it in my palms
in the lines on my forehead.
only to let go
only to lay in this hollow stone,
untouched, untainted,
seeping through the cracks.

Return

2010-04-25T13:53:00.000-04:00

This chest is a stalk of cherry pits
wrought with carefree grit
and a hint of kerosene
it lights up the string theories inside of him
that glassy grin is widenin' but,
you know, In spite of them
I wear streaks of monotone and sarotone.
bouncing from the edges of the endzones
dotted lines seep through his pores like black ink
and divide the centers,
wrapping and interweaving through the surroundings
enveloping the shells of bystanders.

I've got a whole lot of broken clocks round his throat,
can barely keep my head up anymore in this cold
but I forever fights for the following gasp
never understanding the circumstance,
a slave of instinct.
No matter how much of a morphine drip he walks,
he won't stumble over his feet.
He'll hobble off with a bottle of his broken thoughts
contemplate the rarefactions
wear passion like bare backs and
tear tracks from his past and
air out the grooves along his shoulder blades.
Someday.

Koto Strings

2010-04-16T16:57:00.000-04:00

Koto strings cut up wrists
imprint bliss in the bloodline
drift in and up the confines
in mystic shadows of utter divine.
I spit out waterfalls
mist, clouds, an
integral image wall
I drop adderall on your scripture
Blister innersanctums with my napalm
Hear me break on break on
The mantids place spots
of ephedrine
placate the blades
calm now break gone break gone
fate spawns the eruptions
I stand bearing interruptions
stray from the course
breaking gone
severing the adhesive of this titanic mind state.
strip the accolades
burn the coagulated embrace
drift into another realm
where the cranes rest among the lotus
in the thickness viscous of your reservoir.
Find the lost
for the Rebel lines have all been crossed.
As the levels fall on this introspective,
Find that lost.

Only Deadmen Know

2010-04-13T23:56:00.000-04:00

I can speak for your wishes
but never for your impulses
This split lip culture stings the ripples
riddled tin can vultures
pedal past the dusted roads here.
It's the silver spurs on your boots
the powder in your pistols,
the crimson in your system,
the venom in your veins.
I'm stone and arsenic,
lacquered by self loathing,
malignant, yet remnant.

Cast away your shadow,
these lines are thinning,
there is age in these eyes,
in these knuckles and fists,
with the hardhearted are
broken yesterdays.
Hold them no more.
Draw sense from the wolves
find the waters at your feet.
fall to the trails of the weathered,
raise glasses in the name of brethren,
for they carry through the fog
The remnant.

Blue In Green

2010-04-05T07:44:00.000-04:00

Once, sometimes only once,
we walk in grass,
we can feel the brushstrokes on our arms
we can taste the divinity in beads of sweat.
We can smell God in strands of hair
cast down by the nature
of the feel of fingertips.
Burn the earth beside you,
tarnish that which calls you to challenge,
set fire to your words,
or dig your toes into the soil,
clench this in the lines of your flesh,
immerse your body in its ecstasy.
Find your river,
and fall in its current.

Groove

2010-04-01T23:28:00.000-04:00

Pulsing bumping
Pumping pulling
Currents in my blood stream
Send shockwaves up to the mainframe
Singing
One
Two
One
Two
Rhythm wraps its wings 'round my heart
Squeezes on the ones
Drops on the fours
Paints scenery in my corneas
Splashes of yellows reds blues oranges
Saturate my vision
I am doused in vital signs.
I can feel the heat rise between us.
Break my boundaries
Solo dame esa sonrisa y esa mirada,
Mi cielo,
Y soy tuyo
y el pulso.

Let's Go

2010-03-31T23:54:00.000-04:00

When the ghosted foot soldiers
circle the edges of your limits
break motion
send shockwaves
make ripples
and when the legends speak syllables
from the inside of your fire
shout it out
carry it on your shoulders
walk it through the storms
chew up boulders with your jaw bones
spit out fragments clear your throat
throw your hands up
leave the world with two words
fight on
sever the roots
break new skies.

I Don't Fucking Know

2010-03-31T23:24:00.000-04:00

There is something.
Here.
There is a sidewalk on my forehead.
I am thorns formed on necks of orchids
I'm chorus effects and born-again's
I am nothing more than aborted chords,
Dormant, abhorrent to the core and
I can’t even feel the four’s anymore.
I'm knocked up with lava rocks,
Pregnant with cobblestones.
The soldered bones of that copper gold
Splinter in this coddled cold.
Some say I’ve lost my edge.
Now those may just be the voices
But fuck ‘em
I’m just biding time trying to regain my poise
And when I finally come to rise out of this noise
Y’all won’t even spot the arrival.

And he drinks too much
And you know he bleeds too much
And we all know he just fucking thinks too much
But He can’t hear you no more
Your static click is just far too thick
He’s locked up the attic
So for now keep taking extract
From abstract.

Here I Am

2010-03-29T15:36:00.000-04:00

I've wrapped rock around my chest
in hopes that I could conceal this mess.
But amongst the laughter, the dry sarcasm,
the humility and the smiles,
a little bit of crimson streams down my cheeks.
Half a year has passed,
the wounds remain salted,
biting at my endeavored endurance,
but I can say that I smile for you.
Everyday, every second, every breath I take
with reverence.
I can't give you anything anymore.
Forgive me.
Please,
Just, forgive me.

W.U.I. Writing Under the Influence.

2010-03-28T01:53:00.000-04:00

Let me float in the lines of your palms,
Linger in the ecstasy of your fingerprints.
As you smile at me,
I am laser locked to your stare,
glowing glimmering with ebullience.
I could melt on your lips,
outstretched, glistening with spirit.
I could watch the stars fall from the sky
as I dance to your rhythms.
I could spend a lifetime.

In Tin Cups Of Metal Coin and Lost Lovers

2010-03-21T09:11:00.000-04:00

Today he went down to the river,
and washed his hands.

As the sun meets death,
it scorches the throat of the horizon,
spilling shimmering orange beams and purple blush
across the glass canvas.
Abrasive, resistant,
Consumed,
The village is engulfed by the warmth of its cataclysmic departure.
The children are dispersed.
The aromas of soft supper blends
seep out of straw huts,
intermingling with chirping of crickets
and cascades of waterfall quiet,
entirely bereft of Stillwater Silence.
The land is lulled by low roars
and dwindling coal-fire kindling,
coated with hums like morphine
drip wet cartilage
as it melts on the rock,
he is taking himself elsewhere.

Slowly eroded,
transient electrocentric energy unloaded.
Oh, he is getting there, hopes and
visions of grandeur suddenly in focus.
The jaded locusts of morrow may feed
on the clusters of grime from his cold knuckles,
but the shackles have been broken,
and he is freed of that old catastrophe.
The trout are dancing in the golden,
For the sky has been smoked and
they want a touch of its flavor.
His burning butter tears cut through the river
Like shards of jagged.
He weeps like Egyptians
Who no longer carry boulders,
Like when a child is born.
He weeps like the soldier’s return home,
Like the wind has touched his forehead.
His smile is wet, thick with stale endearment.

In proximal distance,
A coffin is lifted in bursts of fireworks.
Incinerated are the forefathers.
As their remains delicately hang in the skyline,
The river shines with contingence.
He kisses the currents,
He can still feel the pulse in his lips.

Sing low the calls of madmen,
They speak true to your wonders.
Find summersets in your drinks,
Find jousting in your ambition.
If you can find serenity
In tin cups of metal coin
And lost lovers,
You too will dance with the trout
In the glimmer of the golden
And cleansing shade of dusk.

Chopin and Sawdust

2010-03-17T22:45:00.000-04:00

Sprinkling cigarette dust
along the frame of our photograph,
humming to Chopin, sipping upon reverberations,
I delved into your pupils with my fingers.
I found scenes from The Nutcracker,
Enormous Russian Bears dancing with wondrous youth,
Gallant Royalties giggling on the ice
in awe of their Neverland.

I found you in hymns of Irish Folk Tales
centuries of maturity,
aged to perfection.

I found you street artists,
impoverished and unshaven,
aloof to the candid and unwilling,
tapping into something thicker.

I found you in violin strings,
elegance amalgamates with ferocity,
Sounding heartfelt moans and cries into the clouds.

I caught you in the city lights
shading parts of your forehead,
smiling at me so playfully with your eyes.

Alas, scars rest on your eyelashes.
You are caked with sawdust,
and I cannot sing the flames away.

I shall settle for memoirs,
and decorated picture frames.

Disolve With Me

2010-03-15T22:25:00.000-04:00

Listen, I'm just saying
I found the stars tonight.
I saw the oils blending.
I can feel the hook in your smile
and I see the loose endings.

Let's break up the particles
annihilate the patterns
for these walls are melting
Dissolving parts of Mars
And all of Saturn.

Let us wring the rags
and sip the nectar.
I have lost all sense of censure
as we eradicate celibate textures
that danced on the subtitles of our semiverse.

Come with me.
Lay in this midnight bed,
placed in the deepest valley.
Let's fall into this intrinsic melody
As red candle wax scorches
The skin along our forearms,
I can take you in
as you take me under.
Dissolve me with these linseed oils
that masqueraded our potential love story.
I'll smile as we melt with the galaxies
in shades of crimson, violet, and happy.

Mistereal

2010-03-08T02:44:00.000-05:00

They say he resides in deep mist,
Cast 'round murky divisions
'Tween the risen of the pasture
And the resin of the past, here,
Yes, ma'am, he is no longer masked in mirrors.

Whatever branches crack,
Whatever cannons blast, sinew-snaps,
Whatever men of disturbance
Burn fast the divinity of this earth
this land
Dissipate, as
Lasting as the oils of frayed gunpowder.

He hath fallen in whispers,
Spilled the spoils of the gray.
He is left with scathed face.
He hath gone to lay
with the water pebbles.

He hovers near brethren,
Blending broken burden bastions
In his wake
There is no terror in his timbre
No sarcophagus in his throat
He speaks softly.
He smiles now.
Smile for him.

You'll Probably Never See This

2010-03-03T02:51:00.000-05:00

I see her through jaded lattice.
Obscured by the void,
I yearn for slow dances in her garden.
I can almost taste the elegance of this lioness,
for it resonates through the entirety of that little toy town.
And while I see paper bits of strife falling from the edges of her mouth,
I am derailed by the utter artistry,
entranced but the subtle harmony,
compelled by this other part of me
that still seeks fairy-tales
to run off with her.

I bet she could fit me in her coat pocket.
I bet her skin is made of satin.
I bet her lips feel like summer.

Won't you find me one august sunset,
slay me with your smiles,
encompass me with that radiance?
I implore thee,
for I will wait long enough
to lace my fingers with yours
through the lattice holes.

Experiments

2010-03-01T14:00:00.000-05:00

It only takes one sparrow
to invigorate the incineration of our subtle genocide
Suspicions have been ratified
by these contorted sudden battle-cries,
but I can't deny
that this sense of edify
has left me with a scent of pride.

Oh look at you, right?
It seems that we identify
with a similar shade of callous.
We share copper tightropes,
a serious lack of balance,
and a rough-lacquered palace in the distance.

Though I see the common symptoms
I take no solace in our co-significance.
So you stay there,
imperfect with persistence
while I try to wrap my synapses
around this blistered existence.
Synthetic synagogues settle
on the rings round your forehead,
I can't have any more clutter.

Purpose has left me with questions,
So I'm gonna let these ships sail, get some rest and
sip this samurai warrior status
until I finally unearth
from the core of my ribcage
the who we why we
what we were we
are we will we
have we been here before?

Torment

2010-02-23T11:11:00.000-05:00

She sat opposite me
in an eight foot kayak
in the center of our dis-course.
Her lips trembled as her fingers
gently tamed the waters.
We remained at our corners,
Inflamed with desires, swollen with pride.
But we never stopped our staring contest,
for I could never escape the grasp of their intent,
not until the promise of landjourneys and lovesakes
was engulfed by the nimbus.

My senses dismantled by the torment
All that remains
are those blue-silver gazes.
As the carriage snaps,
we lunge for the exchange,
restrained no longer,
wrought with terror,
reaching for one another,
but to no avail.

We graze fingertips
as I let her slip away.

I struggle with my 3-foot share
of this contorted paddle boat.
These iron strings tear at the ventricles.
But I will fight this torment
to the ends of my extension,
so long as I am once again inebriated by
the feel of her warmfeather fingertips.

While distance grows,
there is no adhesive,
no regeneration.
My chest is ridden with your remains,
and I am not comforted.

Find me in these waters,
Where I shall forever remain,
collecting fragments of heart strings.

[Untitled] (Names are welcomed.)

2010-02-18T22:53:00.000-05:00

Place the dotted X's on my eyelids
in the form of candle wax.
Make it lavender.
Coat my fingertips with Morphine
and I will paint your name
in the lining of my cheeks.

An enormous Aurora Borealis
lies in the fibers
of these follicles of straw.
They rise erect,
delegating the shimmering dust
of imperial gardens and remembered kings
along the shoulders of this flannel.
Wise men gather on the crown of this cranium,
joined by only the worthy of countrymen,
and witness the courtship of galaxies,
a symphony of starshine.

Ironically I can no longer smell the cinnamon.
This armoire holds my seams in place.
I am pressed for time in this burlap.
I stitched on a smirk for this day,
when you would find the attic,
far too late for latency and lackings
but in perfect punctuality
for my second venture.

Would you sit opposite me on the drywood
and roll back and forth the resonance
of our former vibrancy?
Toss me ladders and waterfalls,
bowling pins and hoops of magma,
Lob the tragedies over your shoulder.
Finally, slide me your dagger.
I will swallow the denunciations of the pasture,
and make an incision from collar bone
to belt buckle,
and plunge wrist-deep into a carcass of cotton.
Such black and deceitful irony.

Well up, dear firefly.
Yes, let the throat coarse with warmth,
for there is that in your despair.
Divulge a raindrop or two,
but I beg of you,
Capture the majestic deliverance above my forehead
and release me,
so that I may consume the supernovas
or evaporate into the ethos of Rhetoric.
The lights and colors
that waltz in my hair
will never leave your subconscious.
You have my word

Eruption

2010-02-17T23:17:00.000-05:00

Charcoaled coral encrusts the walls
Of a cavern long forgotten.
Slick surfaces, Tarnished cores,
Spouting purple jaded sunbeams
Across the canvass,
A shade of tangerine.

The levels are rising.
As she climbs with haste
With the roaring commotion
Beneath her ankles,
She imagines the release of
Succumbing to the ascension,
Relinquishing her fate to the current,
Carried by the tides to cast her droplets
Along the lining of the easel,
Lulled by the low roar of the eruption.

White Noise, Cluster Cycles

2010-02-15T13:22:00.001-05:00

Deafened Ears settle on empty cries.
There is a chunk of serene
on the other side of this rope bridge.
Sarah's clawing up the sea rocks
fighting for her love songs.

The yellow-faced smiley pins
on Jacob's side-bag bleed bruise blue
out of their dotted eyes.
The lashes on his conscience
would put 1860 through a lot of embarrassment.
His head is a broken trash compactor.

There isn't enough blood in their veins,
not enough fire in their forest,
not enough art in their design.
It's like that feeling when you punch the ocean
with all the fibers of your being
and realize for the first time
that there are no tidal waves.

They just want to jump

Nothing Notes

2010-02-10T23:20:00.000-05:00

Come, Sister,
Fill my head with nothing notes.
Plant your static in the orchard
And douse the crop with cellophane.
Give Saturn something to weep for,
Charging the Nymphs and Lepers of His command
With the task of your destruction.
Let the Galleons synchronize their motion
To the buoyancy of this therapy.
Transcend Dimension.

In every 15 millimoments
lies a moment:
an instance with an assigned message
interweaving synapses
forming.
Megamoments.
Yes, that's right, Megamoments.
We've got some fucking monsters out there.
Anywhere from 15 seconds to 120 years,
They are ever expanding birthday party balloons
Or perfectly constructed bubbles.
They clear volcanoes and drown belugas,
Shatter atoms and split crystal.

You're spending far too much time painting portraits.
You've missed the skeleton entirely.
Take a canoe to the mouth
And drink from it's nectar.
Swing from the firesets and
Sing with the nightflies.
Your garden leaves me weary,
and I fear your nothing notes
and millimoments
may suffocate with me
in the cellophane.

Achilles

2010-02-01T23:11:00.000-05:00

It seems that the reinforcements
Have arrived...
For I have taken a bat to the picket fences
And I've planted my seed all over YOUR front lawn....
I'm that kind of clown
That'll frown the fuck out of your security.
You can cake those eyelids sweetheart
But we're still not impressed.

As much as I profess the lions,
I dance with Achilles
In wake of my terrors
Lost to the presence of a heel.
I've got concrete dust rocks
Gathered on the floor of my pericardium.
Mind you, I may stab at your underbelly
Claw at your soft spots,
Lap up the spoils of your surrender,
But I rattle the gravel,
Wheezing heavy as my chest aches.
So very heavy.

Bloodshot

2010-01-27T23:24:00.000-05:00

Have you ever stopped to marvel
At the sensation of bloodshot?
Inhaling the effervescent dust,
Bearing sandpaper nightgowns,
Slightly embellishing stiff cheek muscles.

It's a droning
I could fall for.

Is it truly pitiful
To seek a sober stupor?
I can drop empty visions
Into my piggy bank o' wonders
'Till the planets collide.

I just want to curl up in a
Callous cocoon,
Swim laps in the sahara,
Drop bombs on the cities.

I could melt into this like caramel.
I could dissolve in your stratosphere.

But tomorrow, I know,
We'll snort lifelines off the bedpost
And entangle in the vines
Until the night comes again,
Business as usual.

Just leave me with the record player
And don't you turn out the light.
Just a little longer.

I'll be out soon.

Forbidden Fruit

2010-01-21T00:14:00.001-05:00

We dance a tango of whispers
a ballet of undertone
condemned by the web work,
shrouded in nervous grins
and bated breath.

But I would find no other majesty.
Her voice is my scripture.
She sees me in X-Ray
With a look that evaporates the demeanor.
Those electric eyes break stance,
Quiver muscle,
Tremble speech.

We're covered in secret, my dear,
Drenched in deception.
We're outnumbered, my love.
But when you look at me,
Smile at me with your ethereal glance,
I see nothing but starshine in this atmosphere.

So let the grey matter coagulate,
Let the lush leaves rust
Like charred sunset horizons,
Let Eden dissolve beneath my feet,
And I will descend into the haze,
Clutching my beloved apple.

Redemption Of A Salesman

2009-12-26T23:59:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I started where it all began.
I reached inside,
removed the lungs from a little boy
and put them in my back pocket.

He knew it was coming.
He had sucked the purity
out of far too many necks,
and as much as I felt the need to carry him on my shoulders,
I knew I couldn't let the bastard live.

Midnight Frozen Fire
Rough Orange
Gleaming Windowpanes
Bleeding Skylines
Star Bright
Bitter Air
My Best Friend.
Yoshi, Tross, Lancelot.

Last Words.
"No matter how thick the clouds get, no matter
How fuzzy the screen is, you're RIGHT HERE."

He kissed goodbye the Sunshine Faces
and Rainbow Dancers,
Shook hands with Serenity's Sister,
Smiled at ME and my bloody right hand,
Rolled his eyes at The Irony,
and fell on his back,
Chest open,
smirk still resonant.

Ladies and Gentlemen,
I can breathe.
I can fucking breathe again.

Price Tags (Silver Chains)

2009-12-17T22:30:00.001-05:00

I once championed silver chains
A clavicle wrought with
Measured pertinence.
Stitched price tags into my flesh
Bound loosely by peer affirmation.
The problem with price tags
And silver
Is that afflicted areas
Begin to rot.

Break this streak,
Draw me a finish line.
Suspend clarity in the horizon
Dangle lucid from a string
Attached to a stick
Attached to my forehead
I’ll sprint until the clock stops.

Or bestow me with a stopwatch.
How underestimated
Such infinite expansion
Never nothing noise
Further cluttering the alter
Silenced with a button.
Fathom the chance
To clench the reigns,

But not for long.
Unfocused lenses
Shed magnificent light.
Suffocated color
Broken beautiful
Is quest.
That burning
That rotten tomato sensation
Is mission.

I love you all.
Too much.

Broken Records

2009-12-02T21:16:00.000-05:00

Silence Screams.

Dropped my bag in the parking lot
Laid on my left side,
Arms open, cheeks caked with gravel,
Palms drenched, a crimson
So sticky sweet,
Entranced by rubber tubes and
Stale golden orbs in the ink.

Fate, a wretched sage
With a beard made entirely of
Leather, rubber and glass
Crumpled you up into a paper ball
Within seconds,
While I,
I could remain here on the pavement
For weeks and live to see
A lifetime
Fall through the cracks.

I’ve been screaming your name
For well over four weeks now.
I’m beginning to think
You can’t even hear me.
So why desert these car tires,
The blood and the asphalt?

Switch fire mother desert bring me into eclipse
Take my desires and wishes
Send them through a grinder
Blaze the dust through a crack pipe
Walk me into your garden
Let me drink from your fountain
Eat your fruits
Tell me a story
Write words on my forehead
Outline them with macaroni noodles
And cigarettes.

Statues will quiver in my wake.
I am an ended journey,
A grenade dud,
An obsidian snowball,
Helter-skelter terracotta music box.
I breathe whispers.
I've tasted hurricanes,
But I feed on broken records.

Break it, mol-. Break it, mol-.
Break it, mol-. Break it, mol-

I’ll just admire the tin bastions
And how they ignore one another
On the bus.

I think I’ll take in the scenery
Just a little longer.

When Alone

2009-11-24T21:52:00.000-05:00

I am severed in two
From the heart down.
An open wound,
A gaping mouth,
Consuming all the dark.
I can't wear this porcelain much longer,
blood seeps out of the cracks.

Take me.
Reveal me, entrails strewn
about the courtyard.
roll me in glass and jewel
Paint me with Emerald
and Silver.
Bare my back,
and let me kneel for her
just once.

I found solace in her skin,
Warmth in her scent,
Life in her eyes.
Music in her smile.
Emptied, evermore.

Will you return to me?
smile me to my knees,
Let me embrace your legs
as you sift thru my hair
with whispers,
standing proud and resilient.
Oh heroine that I adore,
will you discover me once more?

Transient are these moments
Without your touch.
Fleeting are these endevors.
I'm so, so tired
my sweet memory.

Hear me , Love,
Absolve me.
Carry my remnants
to the water
and expel me.
Function is forever lost.

Precursor

2009-11-12T22:04:00.001-05:00

Hey there.

I am nothing but a
Bruised sword sheath
Without you.
When I try to speak,
Broken phrases
From tragic love songs.

Arms extend
Hold my shell above water.
But I still can't breathe,
No, not anymore.

I am stripped of my voice,
And it will be a long long time
Before I can find the words again.

Until then,
I want you to know
That every day
I call out your name
At least five times,
Even if it's only
A whisper.

That the most terrifying minutes
lay in the five to twenty
before I fall asleep.

The depth of your grey eyes
Still consumes me
And won't let me rest
Any longer.

I'll find those words for you my love.
Until then, please,
Take these teardrops.
They're too heavy,
And they're all for you.

Masterpiece.

2009-10-26T22:25:00.004-04:00

This evening I was a gray-feathered pigeon,
A spectator of ethereal occurrences.
Upstairs, the paperback palaces bestowed Brigham
With a messenger, and he wasn't to utter a syllable.

He wore navy blues like a sailor,
The stature of a Santa Claus,
Spectacles like Buddy Holly
And the scent of the deepest dumpsters,
Scattering my fellow cockroaches
With every step,

He carried his beard
Like a lot of broken wings.
With one black sneaker on foot
And, due to lacerations,
The other in palm,
He positioned himself
Inside the train by the exit

And then he revealed himself.
A curled lip or two.

For one moment
I couldn't be so self absorbed
For his ebullience shone brightest in my pen.
His warped grin was uncontrollable.
I've never seen someone
Bask in the magestry of people
With a smirk

And he was shameless.
His love dripped
In blazes of silver streaks.
Anyone would fall into tears.

Something has pierced
The ice.
Suddenly, I can feel
My fingertips.
Suddenly, I can
Hear the bells.
Suddenly the stale souls
who gaze into glass
move rapidly,
Suddenly there is no
and every reason to cry
for his tears fall softly
forming rainbows on his cheeks.
Smiles, Cries, Over-Joyous.
Look at what we've done.

He stepped onto the sidewalk,
And I was frozen.

How I wish I could have
Sat with him and
Maneuvered that train
Into the Atlantic,
Sharing
Laughter, fear,
And the wonder of a stratosphere
Of children.

May not have caught his eye,
But I was the only one
Who saw him this evening.
My heart is left
In shards of crystal.
He was simply
The most beautiful thing
I've ever seen.

Here's to my little half-life stars.

2009-10-19T00:28:00.004-04:00

Here's to the sidekicks.
Here's to that chick
That holds bricks
In her chest because
The gem that once was
Is now cracked.

If her eyes had laser beams,
She would burn holes in
The back of his cranium.
But no matter how hard she tries,
He'll never turn around.

Her hurt is thick like syrup

viscous and difficult to find

She's digging through
Crates of blank stares
all she wants is a word

one word, hello.

Here's to the one who will make you wanna cry
When she tries to smile.
To the girl who spoke with people
In high places.
Here's to that one who would SO rather
Be "Her" than "Her Friend".
Here's to those ones made of diamonds and silver
Covered by sand and cloth.
Here's to the invisibles
The resistibles,
The forgettables
And the regrettables.

I see you,
And if I could I would kiss
Each and every one of you
On the forehead like a mother.

But I'm not calling out to God for you,
Because if there is a God,
Then this universe is a spitball,
And the remnants are starting to congeal.

I Gotta Be Me.

2009-10-10T02:50:00.003-04:00

Nevada Dusk in the desert,
It's raining pyrite
and I don't have an umbrella.

Yet, I'm smiling like you wanted.
It stings a little, but
I'm more concerned with
Making sense of these
broken paths.

Bonfires with bright red-orange
Shadows, brown and yellow
Sillouhettes, They're all
dancing to something.
I don't know what yet, but
I'm still bobbing my head.

Feeling the blues tonight,
So bring on that upright,
This grin aches like
A thousand missed turns.
There's a stain on my shirt pocket
and like my man said,
"It's going to take a little more
than vodka to get it off."

None of y'all look like you used to,
a little blurry around the edges.
I can deal with that,
I just wish I could
Navigate these
fucked up
dead end
dirt paths.

But it's not that easy.
Is it.

Happy Mess.

2009-10-10T02:50:00.001-04:00

Speaking of reminiscing,
I've been walking through tornadoes
for quite some time now.
Blinders on, playing the pilot
but really I'm so fucking close to
losing my grip on that wing.

You wouldn't believe it now,
But I once owned a glass dove,
Humble in presence and stature.
I threw it as hard as I could
Just to see what would happen
when she hit the ground.

The most thrilling moments
Were in the final millimeters that
Separated the glass
From the warped concrete.
You could almost see it flatten
Like a raindrop,
Consumed.

She shattered.
Shards must of have caught my chest,
For I began to break down.
Shocked, I fell to my knees,
Glass streaming from eyes,
Slain by that silly little bird.

As I laid on my back,
burning with regret,
a beautiful red dove,
elegant and proud,
perched herself on my chin.
She whispered second-hand
motivation and apathetic
love themes into my neck, and
that was the closest I ever came
to being happy.

Please Excuse Me.

2009-10-10T02:49:00.000-04:00

I have been staring at the pale green wall before me
For 2 hours and 36 minutes
Because I just don't have an answer for her.

I pictured her tall and with a shade of orange
Etched into her eyes.
She would pick me up from school
And take me out for lunch
Right after 3rd grade english.

I could tell her my real favorite colors
And what makes me really smile.
She could help me,
Give me an answer,
Remove the bricks.
She could make sense.

It is as it wasn't
And this bike only goes one way.

So I keep staring at the disfigured wall,
Unable to write a word
That could break it.

I Hate You.

2009-10-10T02:48:00.001-04:00

I hate you more than a mouthful of cigarettes
More than black eyes and cracked ribs
More than roses and candy
More than artificial flavors and feelings

I hate you like a shark hates stopping
Like Johnny hates needles
Like Questions hate Answers
It eats at me
and you have no idea.

Do we mean something?
Are we simply flesh and fuck
Little ivory knights
Full fill forget regret
Why chase a shadow?

I have tried
Tried not to breathe too heavy
Tried to keep my gaze on the pavement
Tried not to ask questions
But there is no more in me

Too many nights in cold sweat
I can’t hear them anymore
Voiceless, faceless
Shadows, and none
Can make a clean entrance.

But I still see that gold glimmer
Your hair drenched
Raindrops on your button-up
Lips as thick as the ocean
And you can’t see a thing

Stay There. (For Kayla Marie Shepard)

2009-10-10T02:47:00.001-04:00

Even with all the rose petals
Draped over his eyelids, he
Can still make out crimson
Smiles and blue-silver gazes, she is
The color of San Francisco.

Hers is a gray of vivacity,
Obscure, intricate, hazy,
And yet she glows.
Glows brighter
Than fire or gold,
Diamonds or moonlight,
as if she has not yet been
reached.

He throws tiny pebbles
From the sidewalk
Into the atmosphere
And smiles.
Among a million moments,
His with her
Will last a thousand years.

Overcome (Partial)

2009-10-10T02:44:00.000-04:00

We walk on roads,
warped and beaten by those before us.
On these dusty broken paths
we will encounter roadside distractions;
These heavy weights seek your destruction.
They will stop at nothing.
You are not unbreakable
They will take you.

And when every blade has broken your flesh,
When every gaping wound yearns to exhaust the spoils of your insides into the ether,
Stand Solid.
Let nothing escape.
Let not one drop of red depart. Take it in.
Let white streaks of lightning shoot through your fingers and toes
And let them exit through every hair follicle.
Act as a conductor,
Growing and growing as the energy builds inside of you.
Consume every last ounce you possibly can,
And then expel it with a force so great that the entities above can no longer tell you,
"No. It is not your time."

At one point we all encounter roadside distractions.
Climb Mountains
Break your back
Reach the top
Fall from the cliff
and sleep it off.