The Warmth of Your Collar

I want to feel your warmth in the underneath of your folded collar. 

I want to stay there, safe, and sleep nicely to the rhythm of your pulse. 

I want to be slowly rocked but your impulse to swallow. 

I want to sleep right there, in the fold of your collar. 

I want to tuck myself so close in the crease, that I will become a part of you. 

I want to feel your warmth in the underneath of your folded collar.

Open Cages

Places, calling to you like mothers in the night, they want to care for you. Maps, drawing conclusions on things that will never end, you have no end. Institutions, places that want you to call them home, they want to house you in. Dropping off the earth, why did we give it that name? Questioning the signs, the signs that lead you in new directions, old directions. Tired of directing? Open spaces, trying their best to close you in. Caged, the closeness almost comforting. Conformity and you are not about to adapt. Distant dates, not in the future tense. Tense.. The past is adapting to you, moving with your movements now. Tense, talk about us currently. Places moving, not affected my climate. Maps, distorted, certainly to throw you off. Institutions, getting craftier in their enrollment. Dropping questions, tied? 

Open cage, conforming distant tenses.

Sandy Holdings

Slipping and sliding, grabbing at the sand.
Keeping what grains you can, close.
Keeping grains in your pockets and tasting the
fun within the tiniest bit of prizes.
Dancing on the sand.
Allowing it to feel your skin.
Sandy banks and paradises.
Using the sand, those moments, to warm us.
Holding onto the time.
Tiny grains of minutes and dislocated embraces.
Something like wonderland.
A sand castle of grasps.
Holding onto the grains so tightly.
I'm holding on to you so tightly.

Let's Have Toast, Unlimited Tea

There is a time and a place and a beautiful state of being and there is toast and there is tea and there will be mornings, you and me, there will be stars and bumpy roads and loads of miss like a sponge soaking up bits of me and rinsing them out onto a canvas of sex appeal there will be late nights and late morning and nights and sleeps and there will be beautiful things, you might begin to feel what I feel there will be kisses and books and reading aloud there will be pens and trips and cake and beer and plenty of dreams and closeness and there will be many cheers, we'll be alright in an atmosphere of such glorious appeal, together.

Happiness in the Lonely Spots

When suddenly all the lonely spots became comforting because you were there and they can play with the idealistics and make you extremely lonely instantly. Your loving getting me through, bringing me up and bringing me, just bringing me, but the lonely spots bringing me down reminding me, making me so happy. Who knew there could be an abundance of happiness there.

We Could Paint a Pretty Galaxy

I wonder if I am having a quiet nervous breakdown. Stay with me in this moment, I don't want to leave this behind, bring it forward with me. Carry ourselves with this moment and bask in each other's sunshine, the eternal depth of ourselves shining on each other. You make me feel alive. Live with me in our moments and lace them together with flecks of Pluto and we could paint a pretty galaxy of mirrors and comfort. I wonder about you, do you wonder about me.. I wonder about all of these feeling settling not fleeting and making me feel right at home.

Everything Everything Everything

Everything makes sense in the dark.
The darknesss of clubs and libraries and parties.
Everything makes sense with liquid.
In the rain, cans of beer, short shots of amber coloured deviance.
Everything seems better with affection.
Quick touches of the lips, squeezes of the thighs, brushing of hands.
Everything makes sense to the music.
The babes mean more, the love is stronger, the want is more powerful, the lust is true.
Everything is truer in the candy store.
Gumballs pleading inncocene, gummy bears pray for you to feel the truth.
Everyone looks better through the bottom.
Glass boats; happy swimmers, Empty bottles; people smile wider.
Everything seems much more real in the sunlight.
Blemishes enhanced, crooked teeth suddenly much more scattered, dirty appearing dirty.
Everything is a kilt of everything else.
Nothing making sense unless you're willing to tie conclusions.
Are you willing.
Check out my dirt.
Tell me what you want to make of it.

Cigarette Urgencies

The black and white offspring of sharing a white to black cigraette in the breaking dawn, from black to white, the light appears, cooling off any nightly heat that was feverishly blushing just simple twinkling stars before fluttering rays sauntered in and crush all urgencies.

Fuzz Lines of Time

There was a time when she was so unsure, so upright, so unlikely to be undone.
There was a time when time clicked at a normal speed and she paid no attention to it.
There was a time she let it all go, into the night, up into the morning, gone.
It left her quickly and she realized the painful beauty of time.
She befriended
and scolded it's audacity towards her.
She hadn't realized it's capabilities until she started dousing her entire life.
The fuzzy lines of time, making her fuzzy.
Smoking cigarettes, slowly watching them ash, carefully holding onto their lengths.
Clicking her tongue,
like ruby slippers, hoping for a solemn escape.
Time revealing it's true colours to her in events not so colourful.
Accidents and heartbreaks, heart attacks and incidents all reeling her into more.
She tried to speed up through the bad.
Slow down through the good.
She realized the hurriedness of time in her fun.
The slowness of time during her agony.
She couldn't deal with the time bomb of her life slowly clicking it's serpent's tongue in front of you.
She decided she wouldn't let the fuzz get her.
She decided to end her time.
She sliced the roped connected to it quickly and in those final seconds of her itching breathe.
She realized time had won.
It was still with her until the end.
She had won nothing.
Lost everything.
Gained silence.
A stand still.
Waiting for time to pick her up on a different platform, in a different time zone.

Morbid Lust

A turn in direction for a budding opinion towards a matter you really didn't think pertained to you until suddenly the rapture of your heart weighs heavy in the lining of your ears and makes you hear all sorts of pleading indifferences. You cannot decide, but would it be silly to think this is something to just decide. Matters of the heart, are fragile, and spontaneous and never really seem to add up according to style or colour or imagination. Why are you dancing on the ledge of something spectacular, to plunge would be misleading.. prohibited. a sham…. Perhaps this is exactly the eye opener you have been waiting for, not waiting, but the waiting room has kept you in a unknowledgeable state and now your heart, in a trance, seems wide awake and ready to blow you apart. A decision.. I think has already been made, without your acknowledgement but now it is the opportunity for all your vitals to slowly come together and realize and shake you. To realize yourself. A sudden new perspective through eyes the colour of your own but must belong to someone else because your heart is seeing double, feeling more, wants more, and you don't know if you are drunk or sober because this punch drunk feeling has to be linked to some morbid lust, doesn't it? Questioning yourself aloud, you are truly insane with the feelings that are suddenly puncturing your soul. Your mind. Your body. Puncture puncture puncture and you are slowly opening but not crumbling, and surely not leaking too much information.

Twenty Five Sentences, Wiped Away

I ought to stop neglecting myself. 
I go through these whirlwind phases where
They don't care if I am part drunk, part sad, they don’t care if I am all dressed up with a destination. 
The words come to me and I fumble for a pen, an eye liner, a cocktail napkin or my palm. 
I stumble with the touch screen of my phone so I can create a note to get the words out of me. 
They come, the words, they come to me in phases. 
During these phases I am on top of them. 
I encourage them, at all the weird times, 
But then I start neglecting myself, I throw away the pen, spill a drink and use the napkin so wipe it all away. 
I write twenty five sentences just to erase them, sometimes I cannot look at them. 
They become a mirror, reflecting how I am feeling, and sometimes 
I ought to stop neglecting myself. 
These words, my words. 
They won't let me. 
They let me forget sometimes, but they don't let me go.

I am on top of the world. 
The words come to me in the middle of the night, in the middle of a good song, always in the middle. 
want them at all the right times. 
I just don't want to know how I am feeling anymore. 

A Fool in Sunshine

Sunshine,

I'm looking up at you from the street level and I see you, but I cannot feel your warmth today. Why must you be so cold to me Sunshine, looking so lovely all the time. I want to believe you are only shining down on me but I would be a fool, a fool in sunshine, to believe I am the only one your little light rays reach too. I saw an old man in the park today, looking up into the open sky, I saw him looking at you and was envious of how you twinkled in his eyes, a real connection I saw there. Who is this man? My beloved sunshine, don't you realize how much my heart thaws for you, I want you everyday. The affair you thought I was having with the rain is true. I apologize but as often as you come out you are never around me, never showing me your affection. I see you, but I cannot feel you and the rain came pouring down on me in an effortless frenzy as if it knew me, stranger to each drop, I assure you there was no other encounter before that fateful day, but ever since I can promise you have I have been searching the clouds around you for the rain to fall. Sunshine, keep on shining, but not for me. I thank your little rays for gracing my paths, probably out of spite or for powers out of your control but I respect that. I'm going to sit now, in the shade, out of your rays, searching for rain. I want to be selfish with you but you are just too giving of the world around me. the rain is fleeting, it comes in a powerful dose and leaves a thundering rapture on my person and the softness and all the timeness of you, is not for a person like me. shine on, while I wait for the rain. I'll think of you always, and see you always after, for you always seem to come out to play once the rain has left me, as if a reminder of what I use too have and what I still have that isn't mine.

Forever Noting,
A Strange Passerby

Together from Somewhere, Trying to Keep It Together

Beautifully intertwined affairs of the heart, crossing over the ropes that seem to hold you back without your attention. Dirty roads, not showing you the turns and the stops, not approaching quite all the lines but definitely crossing them with blind eyes, eyes so dirty. Your from around here but you don't seem to be from around here.. No no no. But you could stay and we'll pretend were from somewhere together, trying to keep it together.

Reverent Philosophies

the delicious where abouts of you and your personality, travelling towards me and my personality. but i am shedding my personality and something else is happening but I'm not so sure of how to explain it. dancing to the music that is nonexistent trying to catch a way of life that just isn't persistent and the ideas that are beginning to ebb to and from my heart and mind, bones and every tentacle of light seems to have this abundance of lightness i was to feel all over my body, like a cool sheet, lay with me for a while, would you mind, i can't seem to the find the time for the things life expect from me.. so i think we should use this time for the reverent feeling of our philosophies. captivated captures, and we aren't expecting rapture.