Carbonated Laughter

a rolling chuckle gains momentum and launches itself into the atmosphere. i feel the carbonation of that laughter click and frenzy and bounce about parts of me. making it's way up the spin and through the eyes there is laughter ringing in my ears. a magnetic connection envelopes pieces here and there and stows them away for appropriate times, unfazed by questions and open for victory. 

Come forth and be, let's be victorious, 

Unhealthy Playmates

unhealthy playmates depict the distress and try to resuscitate the creative juice that is shaken not stirred. a different kind of diet armed to the teeth with hefty emotions and moments of absolute clarity that pop into vision like instant photography and fade in a sunshine that hasn't been around for ages. where has this surf come from? the pull is strong, confusing and tainted.. the ebb is constant and the questions are still questioning the unquestionable experiences and prospects that are worth prospecting 

flutter back and forth like a cheap game of volleyball.

Messing Yourself Up

in the spirit of inquiry,

the importance of morals

seems to trickle away, and

before you on a clean plate

of deprivation, you can't help

but wonder about the potential

foul. no longer benched, but not

yet in the game, the personal calculations

come to a wayward halt.

an outcome truly

unexpected of the self.

thoughts climb atop one

another, the wrongs turn a

wonderful shade of gray and

you notice the loop holes in your own idealistic. to take the plunge

into a territory you yourself has deemed restricted, is both brilliant and entirely stupid. 

 

Permanent Funny Bone Smiles

they wore smiles on their faces as if they had permanently hit their funny bones and the tingle just wouldn't quit. a delighted mix of fun and pain. the whites of their eyes as bright as bleached teeth, muted pupils getting lost in their own colour. searching for something wholesome in a fractured world, the pads of their fingers seeking genies to appear in cotton candy coloured smoke to grant wishes of loud love. deaf to the little things their hunger grew bigger then themselves. a thirsty state over came the bigger picture and soon the decision to quench this thirst was easier done than said. 

Patriotism of The Self, Esteem.

hands as big as moons, waving in a word storm that is rapidly firing out of the mouth and shaking your bones like American flags in the wind, a breath with a tinge of ramen. it unhooks the clasp on your heart and our tumbles birds, their battered wings still capable of soaring high into the sky, your heartbeat becomes a universal soundtrack. tracing the desired nightmare out the window and under the lamp light. we are only closer to seeking the wardrobe that will let us back into all the normal problems brewing inside of us, frothy beer pints for limbs. there is a reach of peculiar affairs that have planted themselves inside of us and grow like weeds, we ignore them until they cloud our vision and nibble on our thoughts, greedy little voices, that sound like our own, whispering.. come out come out wherever you are ..but we're unsure of where to go because we don't know where we are. patriotism of the self, esteem? but they say too much can cause a scene, not looking to go to war, just something to believe.

Radical Sense of Being

Drowning In All That You're Not Experiencing

there is a spill of something half glowing half darker than the night that is flowing against the backdrop of my identity. it is illuminating the screws and tightening the bolts and causing reaction. a slow bump and grind of momentum has plunged and thrashed fragments of whoever i was into whoever i am becoming.. a dazzling state of affairs was bubbling on the cusp of my mind and i think i'm drowning in all the things i'm not experiencing, swan dive into the depths of something that can consume me, and come out consuming. if that's the way the cookie crumbles, pour me another and let's get on with this. time is a dissolving thing, sure we heard about it. but procession in the lessons of things that won't educate, there is no need to breed hate, so whatever happened sucked, but better to let it dissolve with all that lapsing time and soak up the things that matter because those things are stronger than time. it is all adding up to whoever i am going to become tomorrow and thereafter.

Incoming Empties Message

please hang up this is a recording..

please hang up this is a..

please hang up this is..

please hang up this..

please hang up..

please hang..

please..

misfire, message undeliverable. 

the person you are currently calling..

no longer exists,

at this point in time, 

due to some tailspin of dire need to displace 
their heart and stow it away in a case of empties,
 a case you'd never think to look 
because the liquid gold is in the one closest to the door. 

please hang up 

and try your call again..

to be more careful with the decibel for which your voice may falter, 
choose wisely the words you wish to spew because 
there is a certain technicality that can be caused 
if you are too wishy washy 
with the correct instructions you are about to give.

Dislodged Hearts Play Pinball

The heart ticking like a clock in an extravagant case called the human body. The stain glass panes of the eyes reflect the tinkering that snuggles near the lungs. Press two fingers; here, here, here for signs of life and for questions with no answers. The heart beats, sending tiny vibrations on a racetrack of veins and bones and muscles. You can feel it in the soles of your feet, it is still undetermined if the heart navigates with the soul. Knee caps, rounded as if the heart were to dislodge itself and play a smooth game of pinball throughout the beautiful maze of your body. The heart; a gem worn on the sleeve, but also hidden in a treasure cove surrounded in a variety of shades of red and dressed up in your finest attire.  

Chapped

the chap of their lips explores the lush canvas of one another

the leadership is equally shared on the breathing nations of his and hers

the curvature of his being, built with her in mind, a perfect match

the universe sends out its stars

to celebrate their unison

a shiver ripples through her to him 
the climb is met with expectancy and love filled eyes

there is a pulse from two hearts

that beg to collide,

it spreads like wildfire,

gets louder with each throb,

creating a beat that only

they know the dance too

Little Bit of God in Your Hair

a god has decided to take

shelter in your hair

in the right shade of late afternoon

light you can just make out the

faintest bit of its smile

their is a certain spark,

almost like the fizz of mineral water,

that dances about your head

there is a god living in the

essence of your hair

smiling to all those you meet,

inviting us in to stay awhile.

Kisses Floundering in Our Atmosphere

all the kisses thrown off balconies and out car windows to roads of travellers, 

all the kisses tossed off the side of boats that make their way to the ocean floor 

get swept to countries far away. 

all the kisses on the battle fields, there must be a million. 

all the kisses we don't think about on lunch breaks and in between classes, 

all the kisses shared under streetlights and after concerts. 

all the kisses on the beach and patios that would allow them possession, 

the stolen kisses amongst over thinking and after meals. 

all the kisses shared, passed around in a group, the orgy of savoring just one inhale. 

all the kisses over coffee and beer. 

all the kisses on the way to work and on the way home. 

all the kisses just tossed to the world. 

all the kisses resting on the tips of the cigarettes floundering in our atmosphere.

Born Ties

blood

descent

ancestry

pedigree

extraction

what is it?

tiny molecules like dipping dots served from a machine called the human body, is that what has been added up and multiplied and groomed to be called a family?

heritage

lineage

parentage

genealogy

home

where is it?

does the stitching have to be respected, cherished or even loved? do you have to show up for the roll call of your life to be considered part of the pack, or can the lone wolf still survive with this notion of a familiar unit just a distant memory?

grown up

long distance

tantrum

mayhem

bickering

can it get any louder?

tight tiny fists clenching words that mustn't escape the mouth and underline all the important facts, facts becoming fiction becoming truth becoming lies becoming blown up and distorted, have you determined my preconceived notion of what the hell is going on?

truth

lies

love

loss

battle

is it even worth it?

in the grand scheme of things, its etched into the skin, flows with the blood, and will be carried from here to there and it will be this vessel that houses all of the things that aren't associated or are associated but that i have built out of all these ruins.

 

Enunciating the Feels

enunciating the feels.

the constant shift rising upward,

underlining the butterflies...

dancing like flames, dazed,

substance unidentified.

wade in the risky business,

plunge into the scenes that

seem to unfold to a perfected

soundtrack with precision of great fun,

grasp it for the love

of holding something.

the stars couldn't have predicted

a better time and time is applauding

such reverent corresponding..

in the silence is where the beat

effortlessly highfives.. 

but to determine if it is butterfly wings or matching pulses is the luckiest of all interactions.

A Craving Blooms in Your Direction

majestic adoration swims within the pool of colour in your eyes, i crave to skinny dip there. the structure of your being exudes a confidence in your character that inspires me. the almighty strength of your lips is enough to make me surrender. basking in the sunlight of your smile i am drawn to the contentment that rests along your jawline. hands exploring hands, choppy waves fueled by lust, crashing on each other's coastlines. the pull of teeth, the wandering mouth, the growing hunger that seems to be matched with each glance. i trace your heart beat with the tips of my fingers, will it to course throughout my circuitry, electrifying my perspective. a craving blooms, zipping about my being, a craving blooms in your direction.

Funny Bones + Headlight Eyes

projected dreams cast eyelash

drawn storms in the harbour of your

intentions, pop rock rain kills the silence.

a brewing notion of caffeinated affection

keeps your dancing shoes on while you sleep.
the pitter patter of love drawn moments 
duel each other for a piece of peace.
curse words written in cursive so they don't hurt as much,
nothing like a bold font to icing the cherries on top.
new words froth and beg to be poured 
into the space you were afraid to tread;
a swimming pool of funny bones and headlight eyes 
and tan lines and skyscrapers you intend to climb. 

buckle up or buckle down, you won't know until it's too late.

calculations upon calculations and nothing will add up, 

when it feels this good the arguments are weak.

and stronger coffee creates stronger ties,
we are on the brink,

of jabbering thoughts and something called love which is rare, 
the way we like our stakes.
steaks?
hunger.

City Current Man

He wears the grit of his life on the surface. His brow has become a private, yet very exposed cityscape. Two eyes set on fire, embers of smoldering cigarettes casting smoke signals into the night. Streetlights reflect his thoughts and his whiskey breath is punctuated by wine stained lips. His mouth, a gated community to rows of houses, when opened you see the pull of tiny teeth gnaw on its plumpness. Below you see the ridge of his chin, an upside down mountain. Shoulders sturdy, his veins pulse through his two arms like telephone wires begging you to call. The trunk of his body, home to his core and I suppose an inner mayor self indulges in the dance of his heart beat. If you listen closely you can hear the car horns beep. His legs support a current that drips into his feet and carries him throughout the world. 

A city inside a man, a man inside a city. Feel the hum of their electricity. 

Unsaid Blotted Wine Sentences

I see you trying to make out my unsaid sentences in the blotted wine on my cocktail napkin, but the drumming of my fingers on the bar top has got you distracted. The fullness of your lips matches the contents of my glass but your glass is a reflection of why we're here. The empty pauses between sips is making you one sour grape. The pours become our clock, closer to the bottom signaling goodbye o'clock. I toss the cork, no evidence of this. Our final image of one another, two court jesters with stained lips and lopsided smiles. Retiring this place and time to the rack in exchange for a bottle. Your future encounters jaded by your own memories. Sluggish slips to torment me, a quick drain to fill the self and suppress the things you've never tried to say. 

You're Easier to Make Up Than Experience

they're thinking on you under the moonlight on a frigid night. their thoughts of you bloom into a wine stain on their lips that they rush to speak of. you are their best shared secret, they admire and dispise you all at the same time. they watch you from across the body of water that separates you, for their eyes cannot trace the roads that lead to your front door. the vision of those who you once knew falls directly on the tower across the way in your vacinitity. they evny it's height, they envy your proxy. the words of you are tossed against a backdrop of other words and all these things form sentences that don't quite make sense, but they do. they boom and shout and ripple out of their minds. they are going out of their minds for you. they're thinking of you, in the silent sun and they are not only warmed by their want, but their need and they are warmed by their absolute reasoning for only speaking of you, keeping things at bay, and never concreting actualities, because the fleeting possibilities of whomever you're becoming is easier to make up then experience, but they are thinking of you.

A Bruise Percolates

the crossword hint points to the word, SIGH. there is a heavy flickering on the roads of my heart that are signaling thoughts that my mind can't quite churn. they have taken to the avenues of my arteries to express their weight within me. the moment when your heart and mind cannot respectively connect the dots appropriately. the inside of me must look like a child's colouring book, skewed outside the lines, yet still a lovely picture. everything in it's proper place pulsating keeping the person that i am alive, but the person i am becoming is to be determined to destroy that. Personal contradictions. I am my own worst friend, my best enemy. A bruise percolates colour to the surface and exposes a galaxy that was harvested long before I had decided anything. A trove of treasures of exactly what I should be is revealing itself on the shrunken shore of futuristic moves and in this game called life I ought to take a spin, with you.