frozen in time

I put my hands in the snow

next to my favorite reflection

smiling into the ice as a snapshot was taken

if only we could numb joy

the way we can fingers

perhaps we’d find a way to let it linger

n.a.

Conflict doesn’t scare me as much as peace does

It is a glass angel waiting to fall from grace

-n.a.

Good poetry is like good music

It doesn’t demand your attention

Instead it brings attention to your soul

Everyone wants to be

A shade of gold and silver

While I would rather have

A heart that is opaque

I want when you look at me

To see the faint outline of what is inside

So your brain has to decode

The fuzzy image that lays behind

I’ll show you if you ask,

But first I want you to see

That there is more on the inside

Then what is clear to see

Read me

Inside and outside.

Know my thesis as well as you know my cover.

To those who dont know me describe my font like only you know it;

To those who do, decypher the odd bits that they dont even understand.

Read me inbetween my stanzas,

Between the lines where even though im not saying anything directly.

You still understand me.

Let me be your author.

Read me.

5, 4, 3…

It was five, five before you would find your time had long run out at the end of the line, and with a rushed goodbye be wisked away with both of us wishing that you could stay.

Four, on the floor, as I searched once more, all my studio apartment, for your charging chord. To be the hero one last time; to see that awestruck look in your eyes, and make one last worry dissapear in time

Three, had to be, you and me and he, not allowed to get to close, but still wanting nothing but each others company. Sneaking hand holding in the back of the car, as we shot across distances, however far.

Two, me and you, black and blue, torn up from a day that hell had surely grew, but both of us knowing what yesterday knew. Just how to get through this, when it was just me and you

One. Second to none. A number infinately more than zero, but only by a small sum. The amount of days left together. We will spend it on the run. Or we’ll spend it in the sun. Thinking up all the things we should have done.

Zero, back to five, I wish you didnt have to go. But you’ll miss work and school, I know, I know… But I’ll still be tracing the outline of your silhouette, and I close my eyes as it grows quiet in my head. And I’ll dream of you, come on you stupid sheep. Five four three two one… Sleep.

(A)maze

I dont think I’m alone

I’m just alone in my thoughts

Behind these eyes

Is a maze in which I am lost

But behind your eyes

I see only you

So I’m clawing my way out

To get lost in you

Melted

Our past was as clear as footprints in the snow,

But summer came and they are long past melted.

The memories we have are like castles in the sand,

Till waves came in to reclaim what we built with.

What we had was a log cabin of dreams,

But damn if you didnt love playing with matches.

Our heads were in the clouds and the breeze took us away,

And now were left too seperate to fix this.

Party Prints

Stale soda

Cigarette ash and candle wax

Lingering scents of sweet drinks

and burnt food

The last reminants of strangers

composing themselves as they leave

Scattered confetti

Stained napkins and scattered sharpies

I still have the number you gave me

Cell phones left in the two or threes

Filled with texts and calls

To say they will return to retrieve them

Red cups

Laid like fingerprints across the lawn

Of a wonderful night

Now long gone

Bite my tongue

Should of bit my tongue

Held back those words vile,

no matter how badly I wished to say them

Tastes like raw meat

Fulfilling in a sense and sickening

Flesh that fills the mouth animalisticaly

Just to be spit out and rot, no sustenance

Only salmonella

Infecting the ears of the target,

Que instinct as we bite and gnash one ‘gainst the other

Words cleverly crafted,

Employed to bite, to tear

What good was this waisted remark

If all our love for another goes to the dogs from it

Bite my tongue

How can you spend all day

Throwing your life to poems and proses

How can you waist your stay?

In a lovely location with your head writing lyrics

Well honestly I can tell you today

I didn’t waist it writing, oh don’t be mistook

To quote what Douglas Adams would say,

It takes much longer, to not write a book

strangers dancing on tongue

twirling with delight

beating to devilish drums

sweet to bitter back to sweet, one two one

no in between — no other routine

here, then there, then here

swift, trodding by air

begging for touch to not

burn this time but to

intertwine and find me at

the bottom of the glass or

your throat

i last cut my hair when you were awake,

when hair hung below my ears but above my shoulders

ive had it grow long for years you have been gone

kept it around for the sake of our fate

an act of self-preservation i thought

or for what now seems as delusion.

ends split,

dead weight remained from the mess i became

i cut it off, like a noose to life

defying the odds

i restore my truth.

a dream is a spiders web

entangling, but a home

each thread a bed for rest

each rest an ungraceful wed, 

reminders of sacred times

where reality is on lucks side.

light breaks, such illusions dissipate,

within seconds of awakening the dream is dead

the grasp loosened, the home gone

— and the web is weak filament, almost false,

leaving purpose stranded

with no patience to hold

and its spider noiseless within calamity

the sun danced on Ector street

warming each home and those who roamed

I was only a visitor at the time,

life had wings and flowed with each breeze,

every hope and dream breathed from the concrete — the roots of your home

sun rays gleamed from and at you all at once

we couldn’t see past each beam

blinded by light or love

and we shared it unequally.

we rise and fall like each passing day,

we failed to last our eternity

or perhaps we have just begun—

the sun still dances on Ector street

maybe that is us.

hate never fumed in me as much as it has since i last saw you

dead weeds ripped from my roots and the hate swooped through

transplanted and bloomed all ready to weave around like your noose

it attracts all toxic traits, greed and rage

consuming its prey, there is no dying light only a blinding one

i cannot go gentle, i cannot go at all

rage, rage, there is no good night

only hate eats

and love breathes steadily,

then falls asleep

on your chest

where nothing beats.

poison remains in my eyes

because you’re forever not in sight

but i cut hate’s stem now and again

hoping you’ll revisit and make your amneds

or that this revival will

somehow mend the wounds of hate,

so my soul could breathe again

follow the shadows of the leafless trees

each route a different one

where a new life has sprung.

even in conditions of weariness

the shadows lead to

a place for you

to confide or to lose

everything you ever knew 

before stepping foot

in a path never took

“As soon as I said it aloud, my chest caved in and all that was in my heart spilled and created my passage of suffering.”

- c.c // when i said you are gone

you wander through the waves

but your body lays buried

and your philosophy decays

each day you attempt to salvage our moments

where our lips met or cursed

where our hands gripped or stayed loose

and though the past is over and done with

you’ve created waves to crash through my brain

where these moments leak to my mind

giving your philosophy new life

and you remain through the salvaged kisses and moments

until i join you for what is left of our voyage

day breaks into new

for some to fly or fall;

you watch them scatter around trying to find their place in

fields of eight foot sunflowers or treacherous minefields

with their teeth out for the world to see they are happy

or expressionless to keep trespassers away;

you witness the madness in a new day

watching hope play mind games of her own

where sunrise is an imposter for change, and merely a chance for all

either to fly or to fall.