Return

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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.