Remember the Worm in the Apple

i always figured the worm in the apple was just a fable.

a tale made up because kids didn't want to eat their fruit.

what parents make their kids eat bugs, worms even, none.

it was a pretty good fable, but i still ate fruit. still enjoy it.

didn't realize the reality of that apple till i grew up and 

learned fancy words like imagery and irony and then

i really connected the dots to both apple and worms...

the apple is on a larger scale, much riper, a worldly piece

of the planet, sometimes the entire planet, and most 

often it happens to be anywhere and everywhere.

doesn't matter the time of day, those worms, they

figure their way into just about all the nooks and 

crannies of all their beloved apple, their world, it

is just one big plump apple ..waiting for their company.

the worms, they know exactly who they are.

they usually are always worms, but they dress real pretty,

and talk real differently, but at the end of it all.. they

usually are just worms. sunsets, keys.. the worms

experience most of it, but wiggle their way into other

havens, all a bunch of different sort of apples.. 

you meet the worms the hard way

you rid of the worms usually the same hard way

sometimes they leave nicely, but you can never

be sure if you have rid yourself of them, because 

they make connections to your core - 

you sometimes become the apple.

when that happens you usually get a little torn

and meet new worms, in the bottom of bottles.

filled with a liquid the colour of desire, and 

everything meshes together in a heavenly glow.

while you try to rid yourself of the all the worms you know.

The Running Sentence

The word magic is slowly losing its spark.
That same spark has leapt to another
state of madness and we are all losing
our outfits and a mark of distaste is hanging
on my tongue, like a loose sweater on the
arms of a tree, blowing in the dead of night.
Seeking warmth in the meaning of literature.
Getting disconnected inside words and
their different shapes and taking part in
their different worlds that are always
expanding, like a constant coral sea
life, ebbing with the motion of everything
it the surrounding area, that ought to be
something like magic, hasn’t it?
Words absorbing and adapting.
People coming and going.
Sentences starting and ending, and running.
I always found it odd, that a sentence
could run on, without having grown legs.

Show Me Your Teeth

Suddenly I was paying attention to my teeth.
I never pay attention to my teeth.
I do all the necessary processes; brush (no flossing)
It might have been the fruit that drew me so
distinctively to their movements, but they had
become sharper than I thought they were.
Perhaps, the fruit was just riper than usual.
I am sure it was my teeth though, they had sprouted
an impeccable sharpness and began growing
their own identity, and it was becoming evident
of just how they were pointing it out…

New Horizons

There is a haste inside the soul. The soul is a kite flying above other soles. Anger welling up inside the brain, staying attached to the pain. Looking into shards of glass from situations in the past relieving all the pressure then, moving into new horizons.

A Currency Spent On You (TIME)

Crumbling knowledge on a waft of flexible durability and there are spaces I cannot quite fit. Resolutions to a down whirl spiral that is increasing a height that we're absolutely loving. Sun's rise and sun's set but sons do not know what to do with regret. Heavy hearts don't melt soon enough, dissolving into feelings left on cuffs. Definitions for everything but what we can define. Question this from time to time, raise your voice, can't buy time... but if it was a currency I'd spend plenty on you.

Leaping to Stay

Skies dipping in and out of sinking pupils. The visions of yesterday are leaping at the chance to stay a little while longer in the light that illuminates the tiny specks that breathe together and connects everything, so lightly, together. There is beauty evaporating from the palette of this world and leaving a galactic trail of stars to a black hole I long for. A supernatural state of being, contrasting with the budding time that is wildly seeping behind.

Different Kind of Differences

There is a strangeness in your realness and I've always suspected you were a different kind of human. Walking in a different kind of light, you have a different kind of gravatational pull and for that I am drawn to you and your thoughts, for you and your different theories are a well of information and sprouting from your very core, you are a different kind of different. The light catches you differently and makes you move differently and there is a potent sense of different to all of your fragments. You feel. You think. You speak. You act. Your movements, all different from one another, and in tow, different from anyone I've ever known.

Dim Light of My Company

composure, ripping me apart because i cannot be contained
shallow air, swimming around my ankles, sustaining me
memories dissolving into one another and bringing up
emotions like twinkling twilight you were warned about
ebbing on the edge of all the questions, silently listening
to you being honest in the dim light of my company, your
memory holds onto my tight, like your hands use too, but
i can sense the slipping away and the desire to rekindle a
light that once set a blaze to all of the senses, the quite and
the loudness. the storm of brewing repercussions, a sound
i long to hear with the dim light of my company

Selflessly Selfish

there is a time and there is a place
i am nowhere near the place i want to be
i cant get back there, i was there
the time just isnt in the cards for me
these cards to a game that i want to play
want to get involved
places far from me betting scores, wanting more
better sunlight, are you seeing this clearly
the distance is making me a little eerie of the
sudden volcanos popping up in my district
why all of the sudden am i not so strict,
letting go and pulling in
sucking on cigarettes
looking for a different perspective on what ive got to give
why am i feeling so selflessly selfish
so hungry for something
so something for nothing
there is a beat of some sort of animalistic heart
on a repeat status from some other mechanism of
music or art and or something coming alive,
coming together,
and im usually the one to hide
spotlight
check, 1  2 3
pay attention, listen.

The Snakes We Know

Snakes with hands slithering on their feet to make ends meat.
Those same snakes bursting with venom that come out in verbal contagions.
The bullets then seeking their prey and absorbing into their shoulders, right behind their backs.
Creatures with such malice participating in a paid cage fight.
Willingly embarking on a cliché fight from a lunch table of chatty lip glossed preteens.
Knocking knuckles with the team and not out of a sign of respect but out of revenge.
Eyes hungry for all the misfortunes coming your way.
Opportunities never missed to boast the ego of another.
Snakes slithering in a concrete jungle.
Winding. Dipping. Diving. Depriving. Vengeance.
Artifical intelligence, primal revenge.
Pretty women in their combat boots fighting a war that they've brought upon themselves.

Concrete Horizon Kisses

Filled to the brim with easy going afflictions, wanting nothing more than soft spoken convictions and waiting for the sun to rise on our horizons so I can kiss you from this far away. Prepare yourself for my embrace, find me in your cloudy day, breathe me in with the trees while you pass through the hours of your life. Where does the sidewalk start and end, we could be on the exact same concrete, sturdy routes to one another. You can hear my heart beat in the wind if you listen just left of the gulls. My eyes are colouring the skies that cover your head and mine.

Worm in the Bottle, Name Him Amigo

Poisoned lovers and melting rainbows.
Sadness evaporating with each toke.
Swimming in a bottle, a bottle with a worm.
Name that worm Amigo because he's my only friend.
Dye my hair the colour of malt vinegar because all the people I meet look like fish.
Serve these fishes up with chips because I'm hungry for fullness, closeness.
Fireflies in my eyes have me looking glossy.
Flower child dance, out of my pants, all I want is you.
Summer heat changing the pace of feet and everything moves real hazy.
Crashing and burning with a starry sky, everything seeming better late at night.
Milkshakes to make our hips shake.
Laughter in a distant place.
Fuzzy tongues and sugary teeth making everything taste fun.
Liquid pleasure, never running dry, always sparking more fire.
Summer lust and 60 second romances.
Reeling a fishing rod to catch my favourite fishy people.

Setting Fire To Ourselves

Beautiful fein with the scratching identity just landed on cloud nine. Making decisions in a neon state of mind, pocketing trinkets, anything you can find. Living by the dosage, no use in time. Rolling in the powder this is a lot like Christmas, even got the tree. Setting fire to ourselves in such a lovely place with all the fixings and no saving grace.

Magnet Brain

Igniting something that you were unsure would even spark. Moving closer to that flame to not only see but to feel the energy that ha transcribed from a mere action of interaction causing a reaction that is abusing my mind. You have become a magnet to my brain and I am loving the closeness you have brought to my insight at a rapid distance that with global warming is surely pushing us further. The uncanny canneries I want to train to sen you mixtapes and passages I have scrawled on napkins because I haven't gotten a notepad, because I wasn't prepared to write till this very instant, very viral state that my mind wanders to and stays at. You have becoming a magnet on my mind. A magnet holding up all the good things you paint in my world.

Confessions of Black Moths

allow me to confess to you the black moths that live inside my heart. they continue to flap their brittle little wings on the concave home of my identity. they struggle and survive with the weighted emotion of all that i feel at any given time. they wheeze and dance with the daylight that warms my skin and the moonlight electrifies them. these black moths are at home within me. they fight me and care for me and every once in a while they decide to care and love me, but either way, their are black moths that live inside my heart and to these and to them i confess their existence to you.

People Clinking Against One Another

People clinking against one another, toasting to the idea of one another, together.
People don't stick. They make decisions and these decisions stick on you instead.
These decisions are made up of excuses mostly, but all of these excuses stem from the truth.
These decisions are often associated with time, space, characteristics, the weather.
They go further to incompass feelings, deadlines, and due dates.
The truth is feelings disappear.
You are hungry and suddenly you are full.
You are lonely and suddenly you are bombarded with company and you have to go.
People decide they want each other, decide they love.
Sometimes even feel this love.
Then love packs it bags and goes away, but nobody ever says "I actually just don't love you anymore."
They have eaten and now they are full and they were lonely but now they want to be left alone.
They throw bullets at you about the person you are the person you seemingly always were.
The pieces of you they conjured up to sneak out of you, the pieces you preferred to keep to yourself.
They coo you out of your cage so they can dislike everything aloud in a moment of goodbye.
When really the love has up and left them high and dry and they can't tell you that.
Admit to love's defeat.
Who does that?
People sticking to the ideas.
People making up things inside their heads to cure the absence of love.

Hurricanes Befriending Me

Causing pain to myself.
Keeping the wheels constantly turning inside me.
Making myself sick.
The roller coaster of all
my emotions is pillowing up.
Hit me with a sack of bricks.
Allow me to feel realness, not the things I make up.
Let the screams travel outward and no longer harbor on my sleeves.
Let them be heard.
Let the pain be seen.
Let the realness wrap right around me.
Hurricanes befriending me.
This is just the calm before the storm.

Get Behind My Cigarette

lighting cigarettes for direction. directing the smoke towards the sky because that is where i ought to fly. suddenly stuck to the ground, my shoes growing roots like a really old tree, pulling me to the core of the world. i feel the fire growing in my belly, not sure what the hell is so funny, but laughing at the random breaths i cant quite reach. tripping on stones and losing myself.. my vision.. my experience,  another cigarette to find my way. come with me, you and i.. behind this cigarette.

Buoy of Hiccups

this eating yourself feeling way deep from the inside, like your emotions are consuming you, begging for you to let go. allow them to engulf you in their fire. let them set you up and knock you down, burn you to an emotional crisp. a buoy of indifference casting different memories on a soul trying to forget, and a hiccuping charge of flattery seems to be beating down on your hummingbird heart. coming and going, never really staying. the motion in the action keeping everything at bay, a little further way. how far from yesterday are we really, everything mashing up - our music our time our lives our wants and needs. everything happening on the heart.