Breaking // News

Seatbelt-Settle-Down
Collect Belongings. Exit.
Sit. Wait. Swallow Whole Bites
(while you exercise the right for them to relinquish your own.)

Check In. Check Out. 185 Miles to your next
(temporary) Destination.

Home is where the heart is, if you can remember where you left it. They had high hopes, you know.

Power On. Log In. 
Fein intimacy (as though it still exists) until loneliness reminds you that
It never did.
Chime in as though you care, but already can't remember what you said. 

Descend. Light Rain. 61 Degrees. 

The buzz from the tele: 
the magical glass house (with bouffant and boobs)
mouthing muted mutiny. 
They Did It Again. 
Breaking News.

original pen date: Sept. 2011.

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.

Long // Run

Local train; long run.

Slippery slope disappear

near the weeping willows.

Sleeping inside the riverside rowboat.

Hide and seek speak to me in

worried whispers the world waits for

her savior.

The box said no one else can leave.

Backwards seat sing along

Beautiful blunders, force fed fall

over the edge into predictable plummet

Surreptitious sunshine slips in and blushes

when reproached by the

horde of lumen-starved insignificants.

Lining the shores seeking the rain

we hunt and peck and

rabble rabble rabble.

Follow through the open door

check out and slip away

Reanimate to escape the elastic people

Vocal chords tied to tongue and grasping for goodness.

(Graveyard of Shells)

Snails in tunnels

lurching toward the

smell of simplicity.

Rain rushes towards the house and

suddenly nothing remains but the

Graveyard of Shells.

Culture clash with a lazy dash to

dream about dandelions and

open fields of fate.

Searching for strength and

my signal is low.

Candy crazed sugar rush

ridicules responsible rationailty.

Dreaming of deserts

disconnects the delusion.

There!  is space.

There! Is time.

There the tide has slunk

down and away to leave the

salt to sterilize and

send you into flavor-pitch.

(Jump.)

Little indiscretions echo
across the valleys

that separate our points of view.

The proof is in the pudding

and the milk has been left out far too long
.

Wings spread wide with a run and a jump to

soar

yet stumbling blocks trip and tear, thrashing me to the surface just shy of spectacular segue to solid ground.


Forte found in fornicated praise.
The search for everything begins and ends in the middle of nowhere, stark sterile no-mans land devoid of identity.

(Abstract Study - I )

Eminent // Domain

Marshmallows hang heavy looming over us declaring eminent domain on the newness and the sparkle of spring. It's as though winter heaves heavily, tears spilling, flooding all that is visible with her lamentable resignation. She's hanging her head and leaving behind a hollow novelty.


The ventriloquists beside me with their womanly shaped strings to pick demonstrate my own symphony to the tune of Mars Volta; My headphones allow for the world finally to be my stage. 

It's my adventure. 
It's my adversary.


If you aren't there then where do you go when my voice lifts and soars across the particle proliferated space? Is it not an arrow strait to your heart?


I, like man's best friend, wait in anticipation at the alarm of your speech.

My // Apt.