space between spheres

Can you come back down from the moon?
I'm going to be burning down this ladder,
really soon.

Would you please stop being to selfish?
Stubborn, stupid, what's the difference?

You can't hide out there all day.
You better come around.
I'm not demanding but I just...

I want to get rid of this frown.

Get back to reality.
Get over it!
Get ready.

get, get,
to get,
to get here,
together.

I miss you, please.
Earth wants you home.

"untitled"

the confused and
never-really-lonesome heart,
blood pumping connections,
anatomical art

oh my Heart,
in constant conference
with my Mind,
mindlessly worried about time

the art of the Heart,
the menacing Mind,
the need of finding a thin line

to agree, to disagree,
to digress, to feel free

the things of wine

desperation washed over her,
like the waves smoothing a stone.

at the bay, you watched
while nature took it's toll.



(that just happened, right now)

{ }

whispering to me
(whisper it to me)

puckered breaths,
tickling tatters
to-tell-tales.

my locks lock
your sense of smell
succulently silky
and sly, sly, lies.

ran, run, running
through your finely
fickle fingers.

imagining me
(imagine me)

"I am art"

Praise the feathers off
my ears and slimming my wrists.

Bless my hands and eyes
which see such lavishing lakes,
shimmering gems.

Kiss me, within my soul,
where my mouth connects to the fountain
my inner portal,
sending me in between
the layers of your own body.

Smiling at me through the rays of the sun,
gently you tell me:
"You are home".

ode

As an ode to you,
my plan is to
shoot up to the moon.

When I get up there,
I'll bust it with my bare fists,
I'll crack it
and consume all that is
inside of you.

Your blue, your blood and brain.
Your swirling brilliance,
your paint and your nest.

To shoot up the moon,
to STEAL it's very essence
to nourish my SELFISH soul.

To shoot up
the liquid it oozes
that tranquily transcends me
through trances within
two-dimensions.

You are my sheet,
stained like the lunar sphere.

Your geometry, my religion.
Your light, my savior.

When I shoot up to the moon,
I'll aim a star-tipped arrow
down to the Earth.
I'll pretend to penetrate you
in the heart.

cotton clouds

toes, toes, knees, nose.
kiss me, kiss me, above here
in the atmosphere.
touch, touch,
everything in between
you, you, me.
your spine and bones
physically free me.
toes, toes, knees, nose,
kiss me, kiss me, above here
in the outer part
of our atmosphere.

~~~~


the super famous stars
aren't as galactical as my mind,
which,
is really free to the cosmos
and not consumed by one soul.

the clues are blue

You looked like, yellow, then. Like you were filled with biscuits and marmalade and tea. You were stuffed. And you spoke in tongues or as if perhaps, talking with your mouth full.

Indulgence (indulgence)

"In what, you say?"

"It's my accent," you snob.

But you still went on, as you were.

I almost resented you then and that time we were coming back from the countryside.

"Oh, yes, yes, quite."

"AHEM!"

You had said you had seen greener, fuller trees before and that you weren't impressed.

I should've known then.

anxiety

the only thing
keeping me sane
is pretending that I
don't exist.

under any conditions,
just a beam, shot,
from the moon.

that I am just a light,
quicker than sound and yet
be soothing like thunder.

//

the only thing
keeping me sane
is pretending that i don't
exist.

you don't either.
we, you and me
are only part of someone else's
creative soul,
implanted,
like a seed,
branching with character, in the brain,
down, building your spine.

how hard is your character?
from what exactly are you made of?

//

the only thing keeping me sane is:
writing this and the pain felt on my hips.

I am grateful for this, I can do as I please.

let's see how this feels tomorrow morning; let's see how this reads.