Body Talk

Your bones are the structure of your statue. The way you move like a jellyfish so fluid. The flick of your legs that run for miles and I am extremely intrigued by where you have been. Your skin, the perfect cup of coffee with just the right amount of milk. Your lips are like sugar cookies. The hair on top of your head is this turf of excellent surf, like a wave of angel hair spaghetti mixed up by the ocean. A beautiful mess all half hazard and a strayed from bed by the most perfect of lazy days. Your teeth are delicate pieces of peppermint gum saving behind them a bubble gum tongue. Feet, sturdy and keep you grounded. I want to know if your knees buckle like any century women once described. I want to swim in your possibly deranged mind and weave a bed there. So that I can admire your canvas all the while thumbing through your private possessions and admiring your private possession. Talking with touches and vocabulary, heightening the indifference and ruling out all possibilities of small parts and small talk.

Chalk It Up to an Astrological Experience

All you want is answers. 
Answers without questions. 
I can't read your mind. 
If I could I wouldn’t wast my time. 
I am short on space, because your ego is in the room. 
There is an elephant with Gloria and no one will ask it's name. 
I went to a party once and someone said my stars were aligned. 
That was the night you hit me with your car, made me see stars. 
You didn't ask my name but I gave it to you anyway. 
It was an accident but I can't help blaming the stars. 
Your eyes were like furious cosmos as you helped me off the road. 
I blamed the universe for having us meet. 
I couldn't come to terms when you left. 
I went to all these parties searching for you, instead I found bottles. 
Some filled with liquid and some filled with little capsules that could make me float. 
You were never in any of those bottles, or those parties. 
I asked around, no one even knew who you were. 
(did I make you up inside my head) 
I chalked it up to a astrological experience. 
I don't believe in astronomy, 
But I did believe in you.

You Have a Self Sympathetic Rash

there is a demented transcript in the way you're wired. for all that seems one way, surely is another. and for all of the accusations made within electronic walls, there are black holes filled with descriptions.. those are the calls you won't answer. but the texts instead that you would publish. and when everything looks exactly as it seems there is a plea for something else, a nostalgic i'm not sure you want to pass, stuck in a standstill, you like the attention, you like the deception but more the lack of protection. misfired and rash you are looking forward to the bumps, gives your mind something to harbour and your body a self sympathetic rush. 

Gallivanting Pieces

The ocean ebbed for me to stay and there I was with my pockets filled with dreams and shells. I've heard of things deep in the sea, that live down there - that cannot breathe. Words tied loosely with imaginary string, gallivanting off my shield. Worlds are turning, I felt the shift inside my core, now there is a place I fear to explore, but ready for spelunking I go further down the bunny hole and inside myself - deep like the ocean, I watched a piece of me dissolve within and I stayed to rise up above the hallmark of it all, the ocean as my soundtrack to accepting love - my mind still bubbling at it all - but approvingly loosening the reigns on all the goods things, a different path myself is taking. 

LACK PLASTIC

a sordid girl wearing only absorbent. chasing the days away with an entirely different daze. a shot for a shot in whatever shop will let her tongue twist the key hole and allow entry. bumping into mix company, the cocktails flow quite meaningfully when the meaning is as demeaning as the shoes on her feet there is nothing to worry about when it comes to spilling a web of disastrous obstacles. the painted claws, that resemble little pebbles found in the bottom of fish tanks in dentist offices, gauge out whomever ears are in earshot. her mouth chews on the images of her surroundings and the fluff that is puffed from her self loathing depiction is an oasis for all whom they encounter, like Medusa and her head of serpents there is a siren's call to her life experience, because it lacks and the slack of it all is a result of the smoke stacks releasing all of the bluff into an atmosphere that is certainly staining the teeth of good company, the company indeed wanting to inspire and transcribe to all that lacks plastic and resembles something much more meatier, much more organic. but there is a lot of discombobulated communication teetering on the verge of direction and while she sways through the crowds we pray not to lose her, but then we realize we don't even know who she is, because her humanity has drained and it is straining to even try and decipher this human just being, being her surroundings and gassing out the rest. adapting to the adaptations of everyone else.

Suffering Needs Those Who Survive

When it all mashes together and seems like a stew, 
Your life is faltering on someone else's news. 
And you're going to make it, even if you don't try. 
You're going to make it because suffering needs those who survive. 
And the emotion that wells way deep inside, 
Is waiting for an outlet -a shock of surprise. 
For there is a force somewhere close to the surface, 
And it surely serves you a purpose.. 
With definitions undefined, you are searching for a disguise, 
Cringing from the light won't keep you in the dark, 
Playing for keeps can become quite stark. 
There seems to be an audience, out in that oasis.. 
They watch you, timely, counting faces. 
The amount of recollection that slips through your fingers, 
Is a dangerous thing to lose. 
For the monsters that surround you, harbor the things you choose. 
And with all the decisions on your shoulders, 
The mind does begin to wander. 
And with glimpses of a different kind. 
You really do lose your mind.

Heavy Notions in the Skull

A vibe of a different kind wallows into the soul and casts nets to catch all the scattered pieces of the mind. The flecks have speckled the inside of the body and reflections of happiness seem to scorch the vital organs that help keep life pumping into the canvas of such humanly causes. No words, no sounds, and not a lot of visuals. The imploding embellishments rocking waves inside the clothed behavior of a search for something larger than life. A lot bigger than the universe which this body drifts. And there the body tries to wander with heavy notions in the skull, pushing and pulling, but surely making impact.

The Sea's Crust Exfoliates

Buildings crept from the sand, keeping the city and beach at different places so one can escape to and fro. And there is magic in both because of the moonlight, it spills into the road and creates a murky kind of carpet, the kind they use in Hollywood. But the same moonlight warms the sea's crust and exfoliates lovers in mixed embraces while the rushing of the water creates rushing lips. But city and beach, no matter how far, stay in touch with each other with whispering winks of stars in a shared sky and loving one another closely and quite far.

Lack of My Terrible Things, Keeps You Lovely

all the marvellous things i want to tell you would counter react all the terrible things i could tell you in their place, but i won't i won't tell you all of my terrible things because i want to keep you lovely. i want to keep you the way you are, unless you decide to change or grow or something, but it's got to be all you - your deciding, i will not make you terrible on the account of all the terrible things i have, my own terrible things. i won't share them with you because you are lovely, and i feel lovely when i am with you, and all of my terrible things they seem a little less terrible and i know it's only because you aren't terrible, not even a little bit - not even at all. and all my terrible things seem to settle when you are around, and it is lovely. just like you are. terribly lovely, you aren't one of my terrible things, you don't belong to me and that just might be what is keeping you so lovely.

Atmospheric Hello

a space the size of an entire atmosphere, this is the space where i found you, i saw you there, well you might've seen me first but there was eyes connecting the dots within the air spaces of all the people. there was sound and it seemed like it was only within me; a sound so sharp and sure that i was instantly drawn to something about you. that sound was indeed an outbound sound, everywhere people were swaying, a force field of magnetic appeal, we our own force. sound hung around us, words swapping and things happening and pivotal moments occurring and it was all new, brand new without the shrink wrap. things forming everywhere and us merely interlocking in a setting of enjoyment, enjoying the sound.. our personal atmosphere.. and more importantly enjoying the hellos of you and me. 

You're Not a Mess For Me

i get drunk to remember you and then i get drunk to forget you. there is no love in either state and i should put down the bottle and stay far far away from you. that girl with the guitar, the country one, she knew you were trouble when you walked in but i didn't ( well i did ) and i couldn't help but fall into your trap of comfort. but now im so uncomfortable, seriously uncomfortable. and there is no amount of drunk that could make me feel a little love because this funk is a distaste case of a mess and you are not a mess i want to get messy with. 

Fill Me With Poison, Instead of the Likes of You

Why have you yet to bow out?
And why have I continued to let you in. These are the sick and twisted thoughts bouncing inside my head. And why is my heart not such a sunken ship, there seems to be an ocean inside my lungs that just won't sit. A fire has blazed upon my cuffs and you seem to know to put them out. And when my feet are cold from weather and not from cowardliness you seem to bring the heat. And even though there are moments of hallmark and absolute sugar it's always drenched in some sort of green, this slime that I can never be free from, a mold that knows how to turn me. I hate that part of me. The person I become. They say feelings that come back are just feelings that never went away but I'm not sure because I go through you like Kool-Aid and I'm starting to get sick of myself no longer that sugar high that once craved my mouth. Fill me with poison instead of the likes of you.

Familiar Stars and Stripes

and there was nothing to remember, nothing more to remember, just the flag that blew up in flames.

i wasn't even there, countries away, i wasn't even inside myself - far off i felt like i was drowning.

there was so inclination of hope, of restitution. there was no such things - i'm starting to believe

these things never really were on a makeshift table, ready for people to sample to savour.

there is a different kind of feeling when it happens so far, yet with the means of today,

everything is happening much closer than they appear. the emotions are high in such times.

there is a seeping stench that is wafting from where terrible things happen, and i can see

the fire that burns and the pain that was caused even from my sky, where there are no

stars and there are no stripes, there is nature and colour blocks and eventually... a

not so safe place, because evil is in the air, and no where is safe, and slowly we're all

apart of such a horrible place, a televised horror and we're waiting for a familiar face.

Beneath the Moon I Find You

There was this beautiful moment I wanted to hold but my hands were to quick and it passed me. I willed the sun to stay down while I searched the night for it but the sun triumphed the moon and made a fool of me; out on the streets, covered in glitter - bare feet. I walked the sidewalk meeting people's eyes, hoping to catch the moment resting there. I searched the sky and didn't find it there, for the clouds were slumped everywhere. Soon the sun got tired and slipped off between the mountains, the moon came out and there I saw it, not the same but just as bright, you were there beneath the moon telling me to look no further, and we began creating things anew.

Clever Carets

She wore clever carets and had a lavish diet of airfare and fizz. She wore rabbit and never mink. There was a dislocated look to how she felt about paparazzi, but loved the word in itself. There was a different kind of peculiar to her and people tried to bottle it up and sell it for decades. It was unattainable. For her passion was inconsistent and her love was off the cuff. She derailed herself when falling in love and always lost herself to a stiff drink. Her voice melodic and loopy after a glass of wine. She looked her best with tainted lips and sleepy eyes, and her hair always looked better when she didn't try.

Signs from the Pots and Pans

Flowers, stretch towards the sun.
We, curl into each other.
The hum of the refrigerator is our orchestra tonight.
Laughter on the tube, on low.
The glow has become our makeshift fireplace.
The rise and fall of your chest, matches mine.
I am warmed by you.
I am cooled by you.
The neighbors are arguing.
The smash of their pots and pans highlighting our love.

The Hole in Your Sleeve, Keeps Me

Our coffee cups became empty but our hearts were full 
of all the stories we had just finished telling one another. 
And they punctuation of our stories were heightened by 
the flames that lit our cigarettes, and the hold on the sleeve 
of your collared shirt, allowed you to loop your thumb through. 
And it reminded me of how much closer I wanted to be. 
I wanted to curl up and stay in that hole, and feel the current 
in your veins, it would warm me. 
I didn't say any of that to you, I didn't want you to think I was a creep. 
But it wasn't until you mentioned the depth of my pockets and how 
you wouldn't mind just staying in there all day while I carried you with me. 
..i realized we were both weird and lovable and odd together..

Out of My Reality, a Literary Tragedy

This is chaos and you're not near. My body wilts like a rose trapped in snow. I think my heart has shattered. I cannot find one piece. The oceans swell is gentle but anchors pull my lungs. A storm lurks silently, I think I've lost my mind. I saw your face in the moon but the shine caused me to go momentarily blind. There was a stain on the fire hydrant outside my building, I hoped you'd gotten drunk and came to see me, left your mark. But it was my neighbors dalmatian. I like your spots, the one that nestle on your rib cage, I kissed them to connect the dots and then I'd sleep in your nook. Did I read about you in a book, you seem out of my reality, a literary tragedy.

The Act of Being Present

The spot on the wall you keep your eyes on because if you looked away, at any moment, you could completely crumble. The state of your company in their ever-present form.They make it matter, they matter to the making. We were thrown a problem, and trouble did not scare us. The world shook us altogether but we did not waiver. Sticking together and pulling through, there is a growing amount of compassion for the genorosity that I've experienced. If I haven't told you, you ought to know. I am thankful for the way you didn't let go, and even when it appeared like we had, in times like this - there aren't appropriate words just the act of being present and the act of time cascading over us altogether.

In Nature is Where You Will Reconnect

when places merge and you meet yourself among the grass where you didn't think to ever look, for that is what happens to the self. at times, it is too scared, of itself, to actually surrender and speak, often the self is speaking but the self isn't listening to that voice within, it is listening to the devil angel duo on their shoulders, for the outward bound voices are more intriguing, or simply just louder. there is a place, in nature, when that piece of you - the piece unheard, goes to rest. while there it wakes and is suddenly wondrous and adventurous and suddenly not so scared in their entire selfless self and there in nature is where you will reconnected with the pieces of you scattered in the fields and in the oceans and among the flowers waiting for you to notice yourself.