Hello?
Come and pick me up, in your worn down
car , I don't much care about the chipped paint.
Where do you want to go?
Anywhere, take me far away from the confines
of my prison,
let's ride around alien towns at night and settle in the
comfort of leather seats,
let's go visit the Grand Canyon as the tangerine
sun settles in the cradle.
And once your car gives up on us,
let's take a train to the ends of earth.
Please, help me run away from life because
I've just realized it isn't mine.
I'll be there soon.*
Please, don't take too long.

I stopped believing in god because I couldn't hear him,
because each night I prayed I felt foolish when no one answered,
because I couldn't see the evidence of him but his absence.
But I realize, that religion is faith
trusting, blind and sometimes deaf
faith is the blind leading the blind.
I stopped believing in god because I found people.
because, I could reach out and be held,
because I could close my eyes and feel their presence,
because I could talk and finally be heard.
I put my faith in the cracks of their hands
and even if they lied it didn't seem to matter,
they could hurt me and I could hurt them;
we could be mutually destructive and yet create
something beautiful together.
I belive in people and sometimes they believe in me.

I was going to leave today but Love came
and lightly tapped my door.
As soon as I opened, oblivious to its intent,
it poured and whisked your name in to my place.
It sat contented at the end of my sofa while
I tried to reason with my hot cocoa tightly
clenched within my hands.
It asked for some and I gave my cup away
relenting to the oncoming shadow of the ending
of this day.

I was going to leave today and tightly shut the door
but,
what's the worst that could happen? Pondered Love.
Nothing to lose and nothing to fear-
Hoping for a yes with the possibility of getting “No.”
Live out in regret or knowing crystal clear.

I want you, but so much more than
light kisses on sunshine rain and
caresses of sweet caramel.
I want trails of your nails against my back,
bite marks on my collar bone,
mulberry stamps in the expanse of my flesh;
proof of you smeared unto my skin.
I want you to press me against the wall
and whisper sultry words of satin in the
shell of my ear.
I want the fury and the passion of your kiss.
Consume me with the ardency of your urgency,
with the necessity of oxygen drowning man desire-
I want you to breath me in, to drink me like
a fine wine, aged and velvety in the tongue as it
slides down your throat.
I want the danger of adventure as you explore
every crevice of my armor and find the *****
that undoes me.
I want what you can give and so much more.
I'll take whatever you'll give me, but I'll greed
for ever more.

There is a blood clot in the center of Imagination Street,
I can feel it.
It blocks the path that follows through Creative Avenue
where cars horn, roar and protest, curse and smother with
a simple look of “Move the **** on!”
And yet no paramedic can remove the jumper that
lays from austere insipid life.
It's a victim of routine they say, jumped from the nearest skyscraper
hoping to touch the sky but fell miserably on to the streets.
There is an aberration stretched over the streets, I can feel it
because it's me.

You belong here,
he carelessly said,
but in my happiness
I forgot to ask where?

I've allowed you to mark down words,
to map them and write them on a blank canvas;
using caresses and kisses,
fleeting glances and feathery sighs.
I've allowed your colors to blend with mine,
to become a compound from halves to wholes;
using but fragments of our selves.
And yet we've turned each other to blotches of
convoluted ink,
turned to muddled puddles of dark and listless,
gone from Frankenstein to sinister Monsters.
Stitched up with cavalier precision and
become conjoined and grotesque figurines on
freak shows.
We've become but mutated aberrations on the face
of what is beautiful and real.
With a sincerity of gnashing teeth and vicious claws
to lies which manufacture passion and drying tears.
Oh, tell me, Love, where have we gone wrong?
From murmured lullabies of tender, doting songs
to cacophonous symphonies of vociferous disagreements.
When venom hath corroded the flower of devotion
and buried black the wilted products of affection.
Tell me, oh Love, where have we gone wrong?

Once in a while you'd call me regret,
wonder out the door and lose your way outside.
But I'd wait by the window,
all morning and each unbearable night of limbo.
And when dawn broke through the window and
the light illuminated the trail on your skin;
you would appear on the doorstep ashamed and keen
on me.
I think it's now routine but I don't mind the times because
I've mapped love marks on the atlas of your skin knowing
you'll want to come back once you've seen the x marks the spot.

sunflowers bloom from your lips
you smile and suddenly i can't see
you've got the kind of laughter
that can make the rain sound softer.

Life is my current lover.
I swig her ephemeral taste from my cupped hands
worried as the golden, shimmering liquid rushes through
creases and cracks in my jaded hands.
Her mood varies through my stages;
at times she is of doting temper and roseate kisses
but when love evades her, most often than not,
her calloused hands damage the pearly flesh in tender
places,
and discontent paints a surly mood as she digs her crimson
brush against the canvas of my self.
Life is my inconsistent lover,
sometimes doting but most often than not abusive.
So I vowed my eternal devotion to Death.
We escape under the dark canopy of starless wings;
a tryst.
I eat of the forbidden feasts in the Kingdom of Hades,
grains of scarlet pomegranates staining my chapped lips.
Death has promised me perpetuity.
But until Life decides to release me from her capricious temper,
I shall long for the wintry, rainy comfort of my drowsy affair.

I want to ******* against the wall
until you murmur my name like pleading to a saint.
On your knees begging the devil for release,
gasping, writhing, stripped of all formality-
we'll make the cold moon blush and hide.

I'll teach you sleep is not the only thing to succumb to
at night,
to measure time in breathless sighs and pray to
another God.

I want to have you,
until you forget your name and remember but mine.
Sweating in the night, bodies intertwined.
I'll let you eat from my red apple if you share yours with mine.

I lost myself for a second,
for a fractal of a moment
as I stared wide eyed,
gooey and awed at the
artists on the altar of performance.
My perception crystallized,
specters of my past self
salivating at what my fingers
longed for;
spoken word and snapping fingers.
At the connection of my life to theirs,
at the links of my past mistakes
to the handcuffs of the present of exoneration,
at written art and verbalized
conceptual imagination
from the depths of my mind to the
comfort  of our living room of breathing
similes and metaphors,
of alliteration and repetition that emphasize
the triggering bombs louder than our thumps
will ever get to.
I lost my self for a second,
to the rhythm and the rhyme,
the o's and ah's,
to life being lived and poets allowed to
contribute a piece of their mind,
of their soul, of their being.
And I snapped and I cried,
my heart united between the struggles
and the laughter,
between love and the embers of futile
hatred.
Because, in the spark of a moment,
in the association of embracing lyrical
enunciations,
we became one of beeping heart
and symphonic sighs,
And we,
we lost ourselves on the moment
of great performance.

Deter my mind of thoughts of you,
expedite the process of reproaching;
before sick in love my sacrifice I promise.
Tell the chilly incessant buds of hate-
to blossom in the land of crimson.
Beg the merciless Son of Venus;
to withdraw his embedded arrow.
Deter my eyes from the sights of you,
truncate the weeds in the walls of my garden;
before all is covered in the ivy caresses of your burden.
Tell the sun to draw its blinds-
to darken the places in which you shine.
Beg the doctor for a poison;
to desecrate the altar in which I find you.
Oh, for me, I pray
Do not stray to the impious mischief that can be-
your compelling ushering of passion.

I have a flighty heart and a feisty mouth;
Fall in love too often and fall apart too fast.

There's skeletons in my closet,
monsters on my bed;
My lips are never honest
and my mind remains unsaid.

There is a freedom in delusion,
It is artificially flavoured and cheap-
for anyone desperate enough to buy it.
Like this, there are many more copies of the originals.
It is the promise of Love,
The dissapointment of failure,
and the bitter taste of regret.
Yes, there is a blind happiness in the act of faith;
believing in the shadows reflected on the walls of the cave.
A hard truth to accept- the lies you tell to yourself
as you go to bed and succumb to wishful dreams.
Another day wasted-another mind twisted.
The vitality of grass and the prattle of the birds ceases
love fades away, as does the vigor of the summer.
Words once fluent, now cease to forced murmurs of dispassion.
There goes the first leaf of autumn-
in the cold harshness of the creeping wind.
There is honesty and pain in recognition,
Deceit and grief at the eyes of imitation.
Yes, there is a temporal taste of forged happiness;
A comfort in the fabric of deception.

And then it hit me;

it had nothing to do with the fact that I tripped over a rock
fell and scraped my knee, crushed orange leaves and marred
them against me-it'd be tricky to get this off in one wash.

I was caught by an overdue epiphany;

it had been chasing me since the beginning of everything but
I promise it was not the reason I jogged each and every season
back and forth-which I suppose also was metaphorically.

Nothing was going to change;

I got up and brushed my raw hands on my ***** pants,
mud stuck to the heel of them and trickles of sweat fell down and
made everything that much colder-windy city.

If I kept waiting;

my breath came is white puffs, rapid and elevated,
the sun broke through the thin barrier of gray clouds and I swore
just a bit at the state of my ripped pants.

For someone to come and alter it;

my legs were burning at the sudden discontinuity of motion and thus
I got up and stretched once more- my knee was bleeding- inhaled deeply
the scent of crushed leaves and began my journey home.

It was me all along;

Children played,undisturbed by the chilly breezes of Autumn,
they fell and laughed merrily as though falling was just a sanguine
thing to do.

And it wasn't easy, I know;

The wind took the tiny tangerine hats off trees, blowing, howling,
the leaves soared at the mercy of nature's cycle-death and rebirth-
and suddenly my excuse of “what's the point? I'll die anyway.”
seemed petty and amusing.

I needed to change to change things.

A child, unafraid of pain, dove unto a pile of gathered leaves,
disappeared in a midst of orange and red after emerging
flushed and jolly, snickering and snorting. I crossed the road
and reached the door.
And after I let water fall and take away the dirt, a stray leaf had
made its way to my hair and I did not throw it away but kept it
as a reminder of the tumble I took to fall to this conclusion.

Autumn fell unto my world, feathers bright like the plumage of
a Phoenix bird in flight.

Follow me down and I'll promise you now
that whenever and wherever, together we'll be.
Follow my lead and grateful I'll be
of this piece of us, of you and me.
Let's make a bed out in the ocean,
Let's make a mantle out of starlit skies,
Let's give kisses out in the rain,
Let's roar like thunder and whisper like lightning-
Promises, promises of together forever.
Follow me down to a city of gold,
where the sun's always bright-
and dreams last;
Come along, my love, to a wonderland land of us.
Follow me down to this winding road
where our steps are made of planets, and roads
are covered in fairy dust.
Where you and I are together, only us and nothing
more.

he kisses purple onto my skin
and i let him because he says it’s love.
between my blue skin and his red lips,
we make color bloom,
i say i love him too;
maybe this time it will be true.

love won’t save us,
but it can make us better.

There is a universe somewhere in the paradigms of space,
out of sight, out of reach and yet it somehow exists.
A reality in which I find you;
time and time again.
A world in which like the elements that compound air and-
aid breath cannot exist without the other.
A world in which the unstoppable force of my attraction
towards the magnet pull of your immovable force coexist.
A paradox, and infinitesimal chance of being.
It leaves,a failed, Newton flummoxed and disgruntled.
Together, or not at all- we promise
in this absurd and meticulous fabric of reality.
A surrealist version of the real in which dreams are crafted,
nightly for the pleasure of those who have failed to envision more.
There are leaps that do not abide to the principles of gravity;
In which rotational asymmetry between space and time creates-
a thousand scenarios unfolding like the fluttery span of butterfly dreams.
There is a world for lovers out there.
As a play nears its end and the curtain descends,
another stage unfurls behind the fragility of red carpet satin.
A dream in which I relive and relish on you.
There is a universe at the end of space and time,
where gravity is inconsistent,
where dreams are real and the tears are crystal.
A world and a space apart-
in which I once again hold you tightly against my side.
There is, undoubtedly, this universe in which no analgesic can placate-
the vacancy of You and I.

Some nights,
I've put out my dreams on ash trays.

Imagination, it is my greatest weapon.
As well as books, because I can escape
in the pages of another universe if even
for a little while.

Summer once more,
you dote on him and make excuses on his favour.
Saying “not guilty” when we, the judges, know
how criminally wrong.

Need some time, he argues,
as I, your friend, sigh against the obvious.
But you can't see because he curses you the culprit
while playing victim.

We both know, your eyes tell me,
through the manipulation and the love that's more like “***”
that blinds you, that binds you
he twists you once more around his finger until he gets bored
and moves onto another.

Can't you see?
The boundaries between *** and making love?

Stop begging for scraps of attention, can't you see?
Love is not constant incrimination.

Road
so long,
feet are bruised;
my journey carries on.

There the irony,hardly lost in me,
as the scarlet wrapping, of a heart,
now vacant of chocolates
lies wasted in the pile of my *******.

Stay up all night thinking of you,
of cigarette kisses that never happened,
the after taste of mint in my tongue.

I'm drunk,
But I know clearly all I've wanted is you.

Goodnight,
You're head on the pillow
the dreams are out the window,
In the morning you'll pretend and continue your day.

Cigarette kisses,
I'm addicted to the the nicotine hanging off your tongue.

Good morning regret, remember me?
You know me too well,
I'm here at the back waiting on your bed.
Let's stay up all night,
I'm the only company you've got.

You're drunk,
drowning sorrow with some stranger's warmth.

Hello,
I'm back;
tell me about how lonely you are,
I will try to kiss you and pretend,
when the sun breaks through the window,
about how bad we are for each other.

Cigarette smoke, mint kisses;
we're addicts to this cancer but, ****,
I need you at night when I'm most lonely.

We're drunk, love,
let's drag this in the covers and
burn our fingers with the ashes.

In my mind, I break things.
I throw picture frames at walls
shatter the vase of wilting flowers
shove books out of their cases
rip apart their pages,
tear away their seams until they are back
to an incoherent soup of letters
and their well meaning themes and phrases
have become but what my life is,
poignant and pathetic.

There is nothing, no reaction.
I wreck havoc in my head
while I give a picture of composure
as you lecture me on how to live my life
when yours is nothing but in shambles.

In my mind,
I run away, take a train and live
to see brighter days.

It's one of those days,
where I remind myself not to let go yet.
But one of these days,
I'm walking out in to the sea and all you'll see
are the specks of gleaming water in the breeze.

I wish I could alleviate your fears,
that my words were the medicine to your problems.
I wish money was no big deal, because then
you'd be free of having to worry about the bills.
I wish I found a hope for Death, for leaving
and never once more dreaming,
that I could give you-replace the distress buried
like a maggot eating all illusions and hope for
better days- the embers of a promised fire.
I wish I was a better daughter
and though I try my hardest
It is never just enough to eliminate your tears
to the injustice life has shoved upon you.
If anyone deserves all things well,
it is you my caring Mother and for that I resent
this deprecating world.

I just want to let you know,
you don't go unnoticed;
I see you.

PS. But it'd be great if you could
come a little closer and thus then
I could hold you and tell you
everything is going to be okay.

                                                                    Sincerely,
                                          
                                                                   A friend who truly cares.

I'm waiting in the night
by the red of the light.
I've been left out
under the touch of the rain;
like a photograph
my memories are fading.
Colors dripping,
down the streets streaming;
washed out words are pouring,
down the sewer dripping.

I'm monochromatic,
blind to a world of sheep.
At a standstill,
open arms ready to accept
the sky or ground;
rejecting and forsaking
rejected and forsaken.
A fool in a journey of redemption.

She left in the blosoming of sprigs,
in the blooming of my Spring.

When I left her I thought her silly
and misunderstood the dichotomy of
our farewells.
Shame on her for she meant forever.

She left my knitted blanket ripen,
without a last "I love you" as a reminder
on my part.
Both our intentions withered.

And now my Spring has turned barren-
How ironic for time to end a life
at the sproutings of mine.

Farewell, my rosy weather;
may the breeze of the daffodils sway you to a Summer land.

I am a cold, bleak and weary melody;
Forced out of guitar strings, alone,
a solitary piece made by a starving man.
My low notes bring down the sturdiest ship,
dragging its corpse to lay down on the sea-floor.

I am a low pitch plea of woeful "help me";
a drowning man swallowing water as his
mouth seeks the air.
My voice is wispy smoke of years of no use,
contaminating the very lungs from which it originates
from.
And sleep, she is a blissful siren.
Bringing me to underwater caverns-
chanting and humming melodies as the pressure
takes me down under and my eyes close in surrender.

I am more dead than my corpse will ever be;
just an empty sea-shell-
no pearl, no life.

Let's pretend my tears are warm and my frown is a smile,
let's pretend you never left me, even for a while.
Let's close our eyes at the radiance of vacant dreams,
let's say our lids have not opened but waited for a moment.
Let me pretend I've never been hurt, that lies are but a
shade of white;
we are but history hung from another era in a velvet world
where the victor tells the tale.
Let's pretend this song has not being sung and
that the rhythm of my melody hasn't been plagiarized by
the impostor with a pen and paper.
Let's pretend we are one, under the billow of a mind,
that the sky is the blanket of our sleep and doesn't harbor
but our bodies in the shores of the night tide.

Dream of nightmares,
close your eyes to darkness.
Surrender to this madness
as you fall in to the void.

I am a walking disorder,
what I touch I break.

I skim through beauties on a page,
things I wish and will never be.
I starve to fit the media's measure;
a finger down a throat,
beauty slipping from cracked lips.
I sew my mouth shut to the combustion
of words that consume, that speak of the
truth
only to keep the fallacy of what is deemed as
honesty.
I glance at the distorted mirror of what is
perceived as I
and wish, hope and pray that somehow
I was a child again.
A child, yes, a child.
Innocent and blind to the world of mass production,
of copies of a clone
of beauty in a syringe
of love expressed in a text
of segregated batches
of disintegrated aspirations.
I am vexed and complex and I
wish that you would stop looking at the depiction
that my skin might pose
and start analyzing my prose.
Because behind the metaphors of what you suppose
that I expose is the real voice.
And so for the sake of these words that need
articulation,
I'll wear this mask nevermore,
I'll break the glass and although I might
wound myself on the shards of derogatory apprehension
I won't subject to your humiliation.
Because I will not stand to simply capitulate much longer
for you to continue with the scaling of what you
reckon I am worth.
Know that I am unquantifiable, I am priceless
and you can't afford what I have lost.
Yes, I do not fit in the scale of your measure.
Beauty is not about comparison and resentment
but appreciation of the variations.
I am not a number
and I am certainly not another puppet.
And I will stand for this no longer.

Your body is a canvas,
but the tongue of a blade should never be your brush,
blood should never be your palette
and bitter tears should never sting your skin.
Your body is a canvas,
touched by the brush of a petal,
painted by the tints of rosy joy and yellow sun,
your eyes should reflect the starry night
and the silver of a moonlit sky.
Your body is an altar,
it should never be desecrated by skeptics,
it should never be sculpted with bruises
and stained by the possession of manipulating demons.
Your body is an altar,
celebrated by passion fueled prayers,
adorned with ornaments of kisses,
and cleansed by candid disciples.
You are priceless and worth every struggle,
so don't let anyone deceive you in an opinion
based solely on their contorted perception
of untruthful quantification of our current
media,
because you are a sculpture in the Louvre
and a masterpiece is not worth the touch
of a violator.

I've drowned before, in a literal sense of the word.
I, fancying myself adept, bored of shallow waters
dived in to the depths.
However, proving my pride quite wrong, the water
submersed me with its innate and temperate nature
to a world void of breath or zephyr.
I flailed my arms, and kicked my feet; but to the
sapphire liquid my efforts came quiet inept.
Understanding my current disposition, I left myself be
enveloped.
My lungs wailed and burned, the irony hardly lost,
and as I sank towards the muted pit of abysmal blue
I construed of Love's similar tactics.
Because now that I am drowning in the loveliness of
your undiluted singularity;
the resonance of sound, when around you, is dulled by
the  euphony of your voice,
my lungs have a lack of oxygen and the tilt of the colors
of the spectrum are vibrant and mesmerizing.
I've drowned before, in a metacognitive sense of the word.
I, more experienced, don't fancy myself a great swimmer,
because in the torrents of your sea, I am but a mariner
lost in the sublime beauty of exquisite waters.

Darkness tends to illuminate the meaningful
bits we seem to forget with the constancy of
light which makes us blind from the blaze
of all beauty and imperfection;

but it is only in the solemn moments we
remember what truly matters, thus it casts its
shadow over the things that blinds us and serves
as a memento of the significant when grief engulf us.

Farewell to the pollen in the flowers;
for a taste of honey
by the price of stinging wonders.
Farewell to all the starry feys;
for a lack of colors
by our obscure sorrows.
Farewell to crimson sunsents;
for the cracks of dawn
by the longing of a yawn.
Farewell to my lover's arms;
for the desecretion of our Time
by the ignorance of mine.
And, as a final note of departure-
farewell doubtful companion;
by scars of winters past
for bliss of evenings in summer times.

I take my time,
wishing upon dead stars
and hope one is alive.
I pick wasted grains of
sand,
hoping to regain some time.
But they slip through cracks
of my feeble fingers and
submerge once more to
the pit of stormy oceans.
Where have the stars gone?
When has the ticking ceased?
I gather the fallen stars
and place them in my jar.
Trapped fireflies within
my crystal casket.
I pick daisies and dismember
petals seeking for an affirmation.
But buds run out and I am
frazzled.
If only certainty came with a
warranty,
perhaps then I could end
the utilization of interrogation.
I take my chances,
believing lies and hoping
one is right.
But perception is twisted
in sinewy limbs of contorted
sweetness,
and faith refuses any logical
examination.
So, I accept what may come
as an accusation and pray
for rehabilitation.

Find me at the edge of the universe
at the last breath of a dying star.
Find me in the whispers of the rain,
in the sleeve of that old sweater you wear;
because I have been with you from the beginning
and when you need solace and remember my name
I will remain there with you until the very end.

Follow me down and I'll promise you now
that whenever and wherever, together we'll be.
Follow my lead and grateful I'll be
of this piece of us, of you and I.
Let's make a bed out in the ocean,
Let's give kisses out in the rain,
Let's roar like thunder and whisper like lightning-
Promises, promises of together forever.
Follow me down to a city of gold,
where the sun's always bright-
and dreams last;
Come along, my love, to a summer land of us.

Remember when we were
but we never happened?
Me neither.

The time I held the sun
and you kissed the moon,
when you named a star by my name
and I cried because we changed.
When you had your feet planted
in the earth,
while my head was high above the clouds.

Remember when I wrote your name
on the margin of my notebook?
the ink has faded from the page,
washed by the tick and tock of rain
by the drip and drop of the clock.

The time we held someone else's hand,
we kissed stranger's lips
to drown the taste of ours,
when your name was at the tip of my tongue
and I spit the words when I brushed my teeth;
down the sink they went.
When you saw and said nothing
while I said and stopped looking.

Remember when we never were
but we happened?
Let's forget.

Because I can't literally run away,
I go for jogs in sun drenched days.
Because tragedy is in my life,
I always turn back around.

Girl interrupted,
because my values don't consent to your norm.

Dream of me, if even a little.
A nightmare perhaps
so that I may wake you in the
eve of night-
sweat pouring, throat hoarse
from wailing.
Have a good night sleep, may
the siren's song drown you into
a fitful slumber.
But just remember, my sweet dove,
thoughts of guilt will haunt you
wherever you slip.

Move away with me,
a road trip;
never ending, always driving.
We'll make a home on the road
and watch the scenery through
rolled down windows.
Watch the world we left behind
as we continue beyond.

And, it's not running away, I promise you.
It is never closing our eyes as we make our way
forward through the blur of the life around us.

I'll watch over you as you rest through the dawn
in the backseat of my car.
Once the night descends over the horizon,
we can park on the edge of the earth and
observe as stars and city lights converge.
Undistinguishable; sky and earth a long awaited
reunion.
A metamorphosis of the divine and the sublime.

Baby, let's live our life on the roads;
let's be ahead of the time;
leaving young, living wild.