(Cave Dweller)

Digging into a stack of
memories waist-high,
drug by an under current of
tall tales and legends.
A starry sky three floors up,
doors locked, patience is wrought with
wicked-mimicing mysteries.
Ministries seem misplaced as we
hang the sheets in the wind.
Swing,
Low,
Sweet chariot race into the plains to
avoid bump and burise.
run from born and
fear the fall onto the
face-forward functions of
an anonymous algorithm of rhetoric.
practice what you preach,
perfecting speech,
pronounced predictions sighing it
a loud, self-fulfilling breath
leading into a
vacant prophecy.

(Irony)

Raw and resistant
Relics race unrestrained,
ravishing rock's moss rolled into the
Rays of Redemption.
Righteous wreaks of residual
when, really,
righteous relinquishes resonance to
rapture.

(Babble)

red bag snap-to

buckled shoes

seatbelt

simple sneak attack 

                      cold snap

outer limit 

            orange line

parkas and slickers

                 sneaks and stickers

hand-hold halos

death trap stare

                   so

                      see-through

furtive fertility

find futility for feasting of foes

buffalo plaid

stark raving sad              

          dots and dial

crocodile tail

sno-cone suffrage 

               blossom blows

jumping jack 

            slack snack

abstract stadium palladium

pushing triangle truffles to 

tantalize the triumphant

(Nuclear)

Songs of solitary
confinement
create a harmony in
suffocation of sense to
distract with or from the physical.


Heart says "Go!" but
head hesitates and a
dirty dance of delusive balance begins.


"This never ends well,"
the body chimes in with
muscle memory of the
meaning of life.


A corpus-chorus-line.
Feeling a bit like a puppet and
never the master,
asphyxiate with strings to
escape the proliferated penitiential practice.


Prolific writer, setting bombs, talks of body, never of arms.

Green // Envy

Why do I miss you already...




...Even though you're not really gone. Why do you make me so hard? 

(All the Wild Things)

Timelines trip the toes
of the Fortuitous, and eventually,
a trickle that treaded softly amongst the
soft-spoken become
torrents that flood all
connective-tissue, exacerbating the
gash of a cruel-chain-of-events.


Where
do all
the
lost people
(things)
go?


Never-Never Land, hand in hand with God-
waiting for a fold in time to
reconnect the disjointed     delinquents.


Eyelashes sticktogether
bonded by the salt and sweat, and
Sweet Dreams.
Eyes impregnated with
flash forwards of what
can be
should a stream of consciousness
prevail over preliminary percussive poisons.


A veiled stillness imitates
withdrawl
when, behind the curtain the
effervescent shit-show of
renegade relics of personailty
sing songs.

Inventory // .............

Under-educated
Overstimulated
Combustible
Inconsolable

Destructible

Impassable

Undesirable

Overburdened

Unseen

Stranger // Simple

O life! That a shy stranger's simple task of passing along a compliment, emitting a copious mount of cheer into what was a cacophonous mess of reeling and resignation, stealing single synapses from savoring the signifying simple sterility of each meek moment to divulge and digest what a bitch of a day can bring into orbit along tired tracks and overfed egos.

Easily lost is the lust for your long nights and eager touches outside the limitations of lost-lucidity. Tactile timid taps of rhythmic, rapid raindrops amid decrystalization of disaster sing and the wind sends them into circulation amongst the crying chorus streaming the sensations from an elegant epistolary escape.