She was the paper, and I was the pen
My words poured over her like black ink.
each word evokes, emotions with each stroke of my pen I wrote
poems only her heart can comprehend

Amo sorridere,
Voglio volare,
Spingere, spingere fuori,
Andare, andare, andare

Fissarti il colore degli occhi e basta oppure guardare e fantasticare

Vorrei vibrare, vibrare
Come foglie al vento
Come un albero secolare
Movimenti in ogni direzione

Sento il mio cuore che segue il tamburo che segue il rumore che sento rombare

Esplorare il verde, il verde
Chiusi gli occhi al vento e al sole
Pelle morta che si libera nell'aria
Voglio odore, odore, odore

Sentirti un profumo inebriante come un esplosione che saturi tutto tra naso e sapore

Voglio andare piano o veloce
Costruirmi, costruire, costruire
Le braccia tese all'infuori,
e stringersi a sé stessi

Voglio abbracciare con il petto e con le mani ed incendiare e bruciare le vene e il cuore

Voglio creare,
fare cazzate,
Gioire, soffrire, amare,
Capire, vivere, baciare,

Voglio annegare e gustare le mucose e la bocca ed il silenzio e l'immenso

e come un cotone galleggiare

I feel so much              it’s just like good movies
hard hurt  romance and rescue               
         rage  and ostracization
it's them  it is witty they     the horn spittled gitty devils!           
they've pitted faults in my structure
                                                        to feel through
my dermis            tup-tapped and stabbed at                
    quaking ***** little jokes   at my impractical existence
i am made spongiform                     vulnerable pupation    
frogspawn                                    
      mangy food at mercy  ...

...and my pratty employment...

...but it's okay now
enamel              
i'm desensitized to it all                
         distant to the proceedings
the quirky murky readings
                   then again   sudden barks get through
jarring feedings                        
            and i am rushed with expense ...
... for a while

mused chemistry
my worth feels    peopled and oxygenated
my work cradles balanced appeal                  
creation is warm          with budgings of whim
simple commerce   with the ghosts of physical laws
                                     and a birling alchemy

Vibrant despair blowing out like sand paper from the soul
Dreams of colour
Fearless hallucination of love
for the World

A stream of consciousness so pure and thick
like a raw gem
like a river
like a marching bull
Painfully fulfilling me full

I could run for miles if I had the Sea to sightsee
if I had the Sun gleaming on me
if I had your figure in memory
even if I had nothing and wasn't meant to be

A fuel that bursts my pupils into a huge void
serotonin
dopamine
adrenaline
and so
a rocket to the Moon and my hands on this keyboard
setting the stage for another round

I cannot be stopped, I can only be blunt
I can only do it
I can only run
Veins bulk in a steaming rush
and thus time disappears like a fog

I am lucky I am here

I am the chalk
of a whiteboard
remaining from
an evening class;
my true meaning
smeared and erased,
a faint memory
merely noticed
by the sparse eyes
searching for something,
anything, to fill the gaps
in their lackluster gaze.

His senses hold him prisoner
Overwhelmed and alone
Walls were his burden
The light too much to bear

The soaked linen of yesterday's news
Stained with fear from battles before
Eclectic hoarding and microwave meals
Swallows a sharp suit and a badge

Headlights cast broken shadows
Each a spectre of the past
Empty scotch and cigarette holes
A slow crawl to solitude

Light burns through a slither
Heart beating through the walls
Strangled by the sirens
That triggered him before

He needs to be cradled
Yet no one comforts him
He rocks back and forth
Rhythmic on the floor

Screams muted by paralysis
Silence pervades the void
Fractured by the rasp and
A crescendo of emotions

The warning bells pass
They did not come for him
His symphony of sorrow
Plays out to an empty room

By Darren Wall ©