Problematic Consultations

fleeting stacks of cards sprawling into spaces not mentioned and the two of hearts has been broken. the queen of clubs is cat fighting with the queen of hearts and the spade is off making moments with diamonds. oh the queens. the kings are playing hide and go seek and i'm not sure what to say about the number 3, the number 4 or the number 8 who now staircase around the 6 with propaganda of 7 and 10. jacks are drinking johnnie walker and waiting for sober times to tell them all their drunken problematic consultations that aren't making sense, no aces. no aces, make ace, no dice. win some to lose some and the upset of this set is the hand that can no longer be played.

The Gun You Crave To Jump

a sudden sense of coolness has relaxed the envelope that you were so ready to push, the gun you craved to jump. a new sense of clarity escaping your mind and leaving you with absolute insanity, awake into the depths on the night and arise to the early morning slumber, slumber.. something you haven't experienced in days. hours clucking like chickens, daring you to close your eyes, embellishing details and fire working in your spine, ballooning all the time. a quick little fix of something you unaware of, so aware of, don't want to know anymore. a ping of enlightenment weighing you down, nothing light about this weight that has got you rocking unsteady, on the ledge, close to the shoulder, no looking back, always looking back, moving forward, moving left, moving right. moving moving moving, slowly.. quickly.. i can't tell. jumping into pits of knives, cutting up all ambitions, somersaulting into things i'm unsure of, unsure. unsure.

Impregnated With A Bad After Taste

pleasurable caution and cocktails of mayhem decreasing the value of your emotions, highlighting the experience, the triumph, the power. walking away. letting it go. checking out to check right back in again. the upside to this side is no side because you've been blind sided by a classic case of caramelized heart. the intensity electrifying your soul over heating your thoughts encouraging them to get under your skin. beautiful velocity urging you to move, shifting your weight from one foot to another, biting your tongue. a dance you suddenly master and then the song changes and you no longer no the steps, your moves are outdated and your lost in an oasis you've made up all on your own. a subtle detective digging into the sensuality of second guessing, a chaotic affair laced with memories and subtle affection. paper work to sign, things to omit, things to remember, things you should forget. wrapping up the idea of something once cherished and now impregnated with a bad after taste..

Crash. Crash And Burn

i might tell you something i shouldn't. then again, i probably won't because my words are clinging to the corners of my brain and trickling downward, getting caught on my tongue, clinging to my taste buds and i can't spit them out, slow slurrping to my heart and weighing themselves like the hefty women does in the privacy of her bathroom. my heart weighs heavy with the things i might tell you, but probably wont. fighting with the current of my blood they urge for a way out, locked in the vault which is my body i will not shed any light on their predicament, keeping them close to the bone i am armed to the teeth with things i might tell you but probably wont. don't hold your breathe waiting for them to sneak out into your presents because you will die, waiting for the things that i might tell you but probably won't and defnitely shouldn't. pour courage into a glass, on the rocks, no garnish, but these words can't be fueled, they are hungry for exposure but not ready to catch fire and when they do decide to burn, they will crash. crash and burn from the things that i might tell you but shouldn't and probably wont.

Doses of Desire

Suffering flurries dancing along your skin and if ever there was a moment in time, freeze frame the traces of patterns left on your skin from fingertips filled with compassion that urge to flatter you. Doses of desire, a craving that cannot be itched without your lips motioning the readiness of wall flowers blooming. A sense of belonging, and you should be here. A feeling of something you don't dare utter the words because having it vocalized could very well suck the pigment from it's roots and the pigment is what keeps the actions ever so prominent and the known secret of the phrase always just minutes away from you breathe it rests on your tongue while you kiss throughout the night and day. Starshine laminating things inside you which slowly escape through your eyes and with a vision as glorious as yours everything seems mystified, glamorized. A sudden act of faith to a subject I didn't think I believed in.

Yesterday, Today & Tomorrow

truth is, i'm scared. scared of what i could become, scared of what i am, scared of what i am becoming. scared of what i feel, scared of what i don't feel. scared of yesterday, today, and tomorrow. i'm scared of right now. scared. you would never know it. truth is, i'm curious. curious of you and me and them and us and everything inbetween. i'm curious of what i could become, curious of what i already am, curious of what i am becoming. i'm curious of what i feel, curious of what i don't feel. curious of yesterday, today and tomorrow. i'm curious of right now. curious. you would never know it. truth is, i'm optimistic. optimistic about right now and tomorrow and you and me and us and whatever could be there. truth is, you would never know it. truth is, i'm stubborn. stubborn with my feelings and my heart and my head. stubborn with where i am and where i am going. stubborn with you. stubborn. yesterday, today and tomorrow. today, tomorrow and yesterday. tomorrow, yesterday and today.

Lingering Traces

Waiting for something. You think you’ve missed your bus. Hoping for something that probably isn’t going to happen, not to you, not today, move along. Eyes searching faces for traces of prosperity but it’s gone out of season and your seasons to late for those traces to still be lingering. Heated discussions, you’re having in your head, with yourself, no one different, but you don’t dare shed light on the situation, for perspective is not what your in need of, you want out, out of the depths which lead to that dark spot in your mind, into a new sense of urgency. Hoping for technicalities which might absorb some of your faith, mold it into something stronger than hate, something to keep safe. Markings of accidental tales submerge your heavy heart into a lighter substance, and dosed in gasoline your willing to set flame to a conscience that has got you in a bind. Secrets misleading secrets. Hands trying to figure out the idea of something that just might be new, or just the same depending on your grip. Wicked stance for the crumbling personality that is pinpointing just when and where you will breakdown, strive, and survive. Try and stay alive for this is nothing but a game, no life ups and nothing to shield you from the pain. A look you cant wash off your skin. An introduction into pessimistic points of views, cloaked in tiny daggers so your alerted of the conflict your entering. Dark skies seem to line the ocean and what’s wrong is wrong and what’s right is wrong too. Feeling after captivating feeling force feeding you into a new wave place that you didn’t dress for. Gawking idealistic measuring your involvement, sizing you from afar, laughing at your mockery, an institution you weren’t invited too.

Mothers Reaching for Kleenex

A division of the here, the now, and the before. A constant personal battle filled with landmines and devilish qualities both repelling and attracting you. Moments of truth invaded with moments of realization and the moments just keep coming, nothing ever certain, nothing ever real, and everything always changing. Interlocking education and the race from rages to riches has got it’s claws in you and your not sure what to focus on.. pulsating ideas bursting against the horizon and if the sun doesn’t rise they’ll always drop an H-bomb or something so spectacular it would bring tears to the eyes of even the most skeptic. Loveless love filled to the brim with questions and regrets and more questions and reasoning and positions on the intake of the consumption of this product, this brand that has soon become a staple in your life. Mothers reaching for Kleenex while you reach for Love. Trademark, stamp that stuff and let it become illegal, passing love with blind eyes so that no one knows your position, your dosage is now off the charts and you can’t help but crave more. The here. Calling to you like a musical beat in the night, causing your limbs to shake and shimmy without the slightest notion of desire, you go along with it because you can’t help but notice how good it really feels. The now. Your addicted. Addicted to love or the summery feeling it gives your skin, not all the symptoms are cozy though.. but you knew that from your first plunge with the unsteady beat of a substance that has gone unrecognized, categorized into a sensation, a feeling, a state of mind, nothing worthy of deeming lethal, yet. The before, stumbling through memory lane, avoiding the memory bullets like acid to the tongue, you recall when the clock ticked like there was nothing to wait for except the next striking tick. The before, when your guts didn’t ache at the thought of love and when your mind wasn’t so consumed with love that you actually did stop and think about it simply as a prospect not a user. When the idea of love made you smile, when the thought was just a thought and the feelings were just ideas and the effects were the farthest away from your soul, when your soul mocked those twisted in it’s hands. When love was just love. When you were just you. Love seizing moments and taking breathes, love racing through your veins that it would take beats from your heart and create a soundtrack to the saddest movies. That’s where all the skipped heart beats go you know, bottled up and shipped to Hollywood, you can sometimes hear mine in the saddest of movies.

F a ll i n g

people falling all over the place. people falling for one another like files falling from the sky to give notice to a moment that has suddenly changed, the power of this moment is so tangible you could hold it in your hands but what to do with the intangible feelings that caress your insides.. that make you nervous when nerves should no longer be a factor. falling.. people claim they can feel it, but what is it. how does one know if they have or have not fallen.. how can one tell if that opposing team is falling at the same rate as they are. can you pinpoint their speed between each other is it constant, is it at the same rapid pace.. falling. fallen. fell. falling into habit. fallen into routine. fell flat on your face. heart picks up but does it fall and if so, why. where must the heart belong if not in it's rightful spot in the chest, keeping a steady motion alive to keep you the same. fall. f a ll i n g.

So I Leave Behind Just a Morsel of my Soul

under the knife the pressure is weighing down on the chiseled spot that has made it's bed next to my soul. it lays tossing and turning there, forever into the rise of the sun and the hands of the night. depictions sinking it's teeth into my core, a feeling of exposure floods all of me, every sense, becoming of me and the sudden feeling of mockery washes right through me. a joke that wasn't present but knocked down all the pins, a laugh, which in the corners of my ears is still happening. a tactic so smooth that i've realized it's skillfulness, sly like a fox there is something much more deeper here. ever beautiful, the eyes of the great looks at tragedy and happiness and does not quiver from either. embarks on an oasis that felt just like a midnight's summer dream but was entirely of a different sorts, an early week's vacation that has laid it's head on my shoulder and I can still feel it's safety, it's comfortably in the contours of my body. a click of a pen that ignited the words for the page, they have a gallant affair that results in the most wild of passions, a sizable action, i'd wish to capture, to bottle and store and to keep with me in the pockets of my jackets that i can never stray from that feeling of, we'll for such moments words are no longer allowed because they would take away the actually meaning, the actual feeling that is still in me, hours have past and I have entered new slumber, awoken to new days yet i remain in a trance of yesterday, a piece of my will stay there forever, a timeless moment that words could never sacrifice for so i leave behind just a morsel of my soul.

Misery Cupcakes

coffee stained empathy. heart racing in the slowest possible motion so you can watch it crack and crumble, seize and stumble. rain coat guard, and nothing is safe in this love zone. temper fuelled desire and a pandemic of sensuality. almost lovers and unstable affairs. ticking clock in a backwards sway, casting shadows on your heart, flames flicker with intoxication, close to explosion. ticking time bomb and your not scared, nor confident. pony tail ambition, tied to the top of the tallest tree and you cast your heart upon the stars and hope that the oxygen won't fan it back into the palms of reality. melodies swiftly taking charge and whispering sweet nothings into the form of a story that ushers that hearts are broken every day, point well taken but never strayed from, a caution that should be marked on ever love, long or short, great or not. time playing like pirates, marking your heart with such fierceness you would think it would hold all the glitter in the world, but approach with open mind, and do not use such safeguard as security, nothing is security.. nothing in the sky.. nothing will be so vast and last forever, it's not meant to happen. clever tricks wrapped in lullabies spelling sultry embellishments which mask their pain with icing like misery cupcakes.

Happiness On Lock Down

Happiness on lock down. Counting sheep that were never really there anyway, making up things to feel safe at night. A poison reality seeping in and out of closets and feasting on tidbits of information stored in the most unsecured places, but to move them would be a hassle for it would involve reinventing, reanalyzing.. And I really can’t afford to do that right now. The costly price of doing business. The over thinking experimental energy charging to and from, up and down, things unable to process suddenly become process able. Recycled minds disposing of their insecurities, landing on the skin of others, so that they can now carry the burden of whatever has got you tangled. Bulletproof junctions, not so safe. Minds on fire and there is no reason to put it out for the reframing of this candle set placement is bound to make any uneasy situation just as uneasy or even more so. Wandering.. wandering.. wandering.. open spaces begging for your presences; and your caving. The unsatisfactory reality of everything that has got your thinking aloud and your mouth is overflowing now with a possession of words, a colossal piece of work. On the verge of letting go and there is nothing picture perfect with this picture. A little slice of hope and you can only hope that this is going to leave a mark, cut you wide open and let people really get a good look at you and this and that and all the fragments. Fragments of an experience you’re not so willing to touch because the force might give you symptoms of uneasy, enjoyment, love?

Encrypted Vulnerability

I haven't written in a while and simply because my heart feels pressured to be vulnerable in even the most encrypted of ways. Stumbling into memories and tragedies that all seem to cohesively laugh at me, I'm not sure I can stand the sight of such torture in the writing, something I truly love. The admiration that I want to eat makes my tummy grumble with unsatisfication. Sour like a cranberry, tis the season to make a mockery out of you, make a mockery out of me. Precious hate, gift wrapped and excited to see your face, your heart slowly crumbling and this is no mistake. Mark the pen to the paper and I cast my eyes to other places and allow my mind to slowly settle into the contours of velocity. Restraint loosely letting go and pushing abilities into lightening storms so that everything can appear electrified and uneasy. The beautiful tinge of something you just cant put your finger on galloping across your soul. A window into you or to someone you use to be. Do I know you stranger? You repeat, as your eyes press into your reflection, the mirror now playing tricks on your self worth. Worry not for the grass is green and the ocean blue, but is it? You can't pour a glass of ocean and have it so vibrantly blue in the glass, no that's a silly thought. However, is bottom blue or just the sky. Is the ocean one big mirror begging you to cry into it, so that it can further swell onto the ground, we're all waiting to drown. Save your tears, and cast away among the stars for that is where you will truly loose your breathe.

Mango Cigarettes

mango cigarettes, smoking up the supper club and the girls in the hot skirts are crushing on boys hard. beautiful leather jackets, define the arms of the bad boys with their sharp hair cuts and their rocker boots. ice cube jewellery, making the girls look cool and the boys next to the girls look cooler. wearing your heart on your nylons, climbing ladders in heels. fabulous people talking about nothing important, nothing important defining fabulous people. candy coated lip prints on the rims of neon drinks. street lights, acting like a spotlight and following the beautiful people home, as if their leaving the stage, costume change time. frosted cakes and glossy lips, kissing away evenings and welcoming in new days. wonderful glow sticks electrifying heart beats and quietly whispering glamourous things into that tiny pit you sometimes hide in, deep down inside resign in, when your heart and your mind won't agree and the connection is full of all sorts of things..

Spit Fire Passion

tornado affairs mixing up confessions. snow ball affect and we're running up hill so we can crash into the moon and land upon the stars. feverish love splashing the sky and all we can hope for is a better tomorrow. attitudes heightening better expressions and emotions staying bottled, tight close to the covers. as if waves are capping on a white sand beach, your overlapping with shadows being casted from the inside out. spit fire passion and desire trembling throughout your senses, ballooning and bubbling in your fingertips and lips. impressions of glitter sparkle your dreams and waking up in the morning without any despair, teetering on the vibes of something else.

Love Is Blowing Up In Smoke

find deliberation in my hands, for the sake of liberation is at stake. find contemporary kindness in the sky for the sea saw battle of your mistakes is weighing down the world. find remorse, under rocks and sympathy in gift wrapped boxes. allow wishes to come true. allow beauty to surround you. eyes see the world and hands molding it to it's desires, free will and ability, stand tall to the fire. casting forward into the unknown, unsteady heels wobbling into a new direction, new light embraces your mind. time after time there is love blowing up in smoke. body lotion silk making dreams harder to grasps, extravagant ice cubes cooling down the situation, you stop to drop and now your on a roll, don't turn back - get in the zone.

Literary Dodge Ball

words stumbling out of your lips and rest right on my shoulders. the pressure is weighing me down. a new game of literary dodge ball, i avoid your speech like the plague. twisted embellishments, racing towards my lung, to capture my breath, and stow it away in a place i'll search for but forget. little weapons you keep in your brain, and ever so often they become tangible and you throw them out into the air with the intentions of staining pupils and allowing a new soul to realize it's been captured in the clutches of your voice. as if dropping bombs into the water and watching the ripple take affect, words casting the very same ripple throughout my body and sending new vocabulary into the pit of my stomach, which is effecting my speech. i cannot form the words properly, i can no longer delivery them in a manner that could rattle your soul because you have no soul, it's been replaced with a pile of words, doused in flames and waiting for a target.

Coma of Truth

truth is never really comforting. you want it, don't you? don't be silly everybody does. you crave it, right.. you think your strong enough to take it, handle it even.. but it's not fragile nor sharp. the truth, it doesn't care as much as you care about it. it's this love hate relationship waiting, just waiting ever so slightly like a glass of wine cheering you on to sip your way into intoxication, a coma of truth. truth can easily bring a smile to your lips and a tear to your eyes, it can punch you just has lightly as it can caress you. truth can't take care of you, it can wreck you up. like an alley fight it's waiting for you under the street light, truth.. well it begs you to believe it so it can laugh in your face just how pathetic you look for dropping to your knees, to cradle truth in your eyes, a constant tug-a-war with yourself and the fluff, that is truth. truth, it loves to hate you. and you hate to love it because you know it probably won't do you any good, but hey.. that's truth for you right. the dealer doesn't deal you a hand and then hope for you to get the truth, he's going to win just has you might get lucky. strike out the truth and open your eyes, unfold your belongings and hope that truth doesn't catch you waiting for it.. it knows you better than you know yourself. truth is, is there such a thing, or is truth just this made up fantasy that this delicate flower that grows from all the lies and sprouts a fabulous flower of truth, i doubt it. i mean truth is like a balloon, a balloon filled with paint just waiting to burst along your horizon.

Warm Guns And Red Lips

Beautiful people with glasses filled right to the brim with poisonous happiness. Warm guns and red lips, urging kisses to happen, to rise and fall. Hearts flickering on and off and dazed and confused, we'll drink to that. Rose coloured pupils because glasses didn't go with the outfit, switching lanes that you've out fitted. After life is nothing but a promise and in the scene the warm feeling of sugared cups now rests in a place just above your mind, digging its way into beautiful things, scared for your life but too high to run. Salted ambitions and feverish times. Sleeping beauty's dead and the prince is no where to be found. Awake in the morning to the mess you've caused, in all your scandalous apparel. Affairs with the devil, rising like a body count and you're snatching souls like its going out of fashion, style crashing down on all your senses, comb your horrific hair, a disaster that surely deserves another glass..

Mix With Choreography

attempts at indecent exposure, not sure what your getting at.. wanting everything you've had and everything you loss. guzzling liquid temptation down your throat and mixed with any choreography could cause slippery lips and thunderous words and try after try after try. stumbling for the moment, regain yourself over time, quick fix hypocrisy this will never be what it use to be. idolizing fascinations with mornings that have come and gone, missing something entirely pleasing and rushing for the instant pleasure it once delivered. Embarrassed and undesirable, put on the shelf to rest, no longer performing any sort of acts. no kindness, all greed. a greedy excuse to sit next too me, but this spot is reserved, please go away and feel nothing more. memories slicing your mind open wide at night, twisting and turning at the vivid images you can streams over and over again, but how far can your senses take you off the ever fading reel that you have rewinding and rewinding on your brain. unsatisfied and gushes of realization now, after time, punch you in the gut and there is nothing you can do too save yourself. redeem not, talk less, come to turns. reaching for a grip on this crumbling effort, forget what it has become for it will never be different. salty substance caress your eyes and this won't be your last disguise, contemplating ridiculous outfits just too see, can robin hood once again steel from the rich and keep it for thee?