A Frightening World

Mirror panes

in all directions

slashing pains

from recollections

needle veins

and sharp injections

drunken reins

and wrapped erections

long sleeved shame

bruised complexions

no one came

with real objections

forgotten names

secret protections

never games

with word corrections

Aspartame

and imperfections

The Ocean

The ocean breeze calls me closer every day.
I try to tell it,
"Wait, I don't understand."
But when have sea shells ever stopped their humming in your ear?

According to the angle of the sun,
my smoke signals should have reached the land by now.
But I fear my luck has just run out,
and til the end of days
the sand will be my most precious gold.

My ship will come most faithfully in just 3 days,
with white sails and ginger ales.
But until then, I'm swirling in a sea
and the single creature I can spy
will not tell me what it thinks of my interesting predicament,
it would rather eat me instead and spit out my bones
to the never ending
sea.

yes

I miss you like the sun
wishes there was a breeze coming from the west
to offer a cool hand to the seismic tremors of the Earth.

Send me ocean drifts and salty seas
to calm the thoughts that threaten to swirl
in my head forever.

Words can only make this worse,
I am convinced,
but yet I cannot cut off all of my threads
with swimming dreams and indefinite wifi.

Even without electrical currents,
even drowning in 8 ounce cups,
even soaking up all the rays,
even running miles in my head
and countless hot air balloon rides,
I cannot forget, and I cannot expect to make anything but mistakes.

Even more than 400 miles make me want to
doubt my mind. I know I am not stupid,
but when I told you to keep my heart in mind,
I fear you listened only temporarily.

Grasp, in my direction,
if nothing else. I feel silly
and my heart is on a tightrope,
destined to fall off.
You might as well tell me sooner
rather than later
so I can call up someone else to
fill the chasm you left.

And so it begins again

Gently, he removes the heavy weight from between my shoulder blades.
Unless i am mistaken, his eyes are sending me a message, although i cannot see them - my back turned.
The wafting smell of pine cinders make my mind wander, dreaming of the warmth that emerges exclusively in the winter months.
He draws back my attention effortlessly and unknowingly.
Realizing that the moment is fading, i turn to face him, our bodies no closer than only seconds before, but now any separation would seem unbearable to me.
I look into his eyes, chocolate brown, searching for the secrets of his thoughts.
Eyes no longer conveying correctly what he wants to say, he leans forward and our lips connect for the first time, softly smoothly and gently.

The Consuming Flames

I couldn't believe that it took fireworks.

Red fire, consuming my oxygen
and my thoughts.
And the tones of your voice
like booming thunder
filling my ears with a ringing
that I could hear even after
you left me.

You entered amidst a black sea of other people.

The room was dark, shrouded
in black lace and prayers.
But somehow you appeared to me
clearer and brighter
than any disco ball
or compact fluorescent could ever manage.

The soot soon smothered us all.

The flames licking bright new brick
and threatening to swallow us
piece by piece
taking with it our pressboard furniture,
just so that the interior matched our skin -
covered in shining, charcoal burns.

I couldn't believe that it took fireworks.

Red fire, of my creation
consuming every part of you.
And as if the spectacle wasn't enough
the first time,
an encore seemed fitting,
doused in gasoline.

moving on

You have never loved me
and I know you never will.
The you I loved is lost -
I forgive, am calm, and still.

I'm Sorry

I would like to say
sorry,
for treating you this way

Sometimes I feel
a. confused – cracked, crazy
that my room is full of
pictures, photos, philosophies, psychoanalyses,
memories, and memos
but your square slumps, lonely
against the left side wall
b. stressed – scared, stupid
because every time our eyes meet
and our greetings float over
countless heads and pizza slices

I fear your parting thoughts go something
like this:
what. a. bitch.
But I do not want to make excuses.

Every passing day
runs too quickly
into the next,
counting down only gets worse and worse
until we are no longer friends,
or even acquaintances

As I increasingly hear that
- it will surely snow tomorrow -
my apology runs the risk of never
descending upon your ears,
or anyone else's.

And I just have to tell someone that
I am
sorry