Elaborate Eye Sockets

There is an elaborate joke tucked behind his eyes, when he sees beautiful things he laughs. You thought he was being cruel, he was actually falling in love. He didn't realize all the guts he had busted laughing would change the way he sees beautiful things. When he no longer saw your love his eyes no longer hid an elaborate joke but an immense sense that all he knew, once upon a time, of jokes and beautiful things would remain a grainy crust in the corner of his eyes. Blurring. Everything. Beautiful. You.

Grab Bag of Mixed Emotions

i used the space between my heart and ribs, the entry way into properly ending a life, to store all my mixed emotions; bumping into old flames, craving that person who was in a relationship, crossing the street when it wasn't my turn.. sometimes i would carry the whole lot in that spot, just west of my gut and hope someone would bump into me so that it would slosh about, perhaps fall into my leg and down to my foot so i could go for a run and slam it out on the concrete. that very rarely happened. there is currently a gully of mixed emotions somewhere south west of my heart and i can only hope the beating of the muscle will pound it to a pulpy substance and dissolve it into a case of slow churning heart burn. it wouldn't be the worst thing. the mixed emotions buoy on a tether connected somewhere in the depths of my mind and flap about like a sad inflatable creature with giant wavy arms and a placid smile.

Magnet Into Traffic

Running into people on street corners. The same tingle spills from the mind rather than the stubbed toe. You've avoided that street for years, thinking you were safe or maybe not thinking at all… an absentminded stroll has you knocking shoulders, brushing hands with a body you once couldn't get enough of. You don't have to see the face to know. Your body has a pulse to stay and to go. But the magnet in your anger wins and pushes you into traffic. 

Spacebar For An Electronic Taxi

instantly dancing,

thinking of you and then and there,

when i was who and what and where.

doing the math, keep the difference,

a little long short of love and lust

a simple study of

i don't know, a struggle for glory

and cyber gold. a constant banter,

on an endless loop.. you can' see it

but i am waving at

you and you and you. 
little darlings; settle and fill your glasses, 

cheers to everything.

spacebar for an electronic taxi

the strangers we keep passing vs. the ones we go 

out of our way to plug in, load, buffer, log in.. 

 

Fit For The Bottle

the money piles up like leaves,

raked with clawed hands,

burns easily with a match,

disappears into the ocean

like the experiences of past lovers.

desire rushes forward,

leaves an ink stained blotch,

lips murmur truths

we don't really want to hear,

ride the coat tails and you can 

fathom something fit for the bottle.

clouds sort of fall into place,

showing off the pretty and ugly things.

the heart and the mind  

with the same style dress code, 

operating at their own miles per hour.

Rubber-Necked At Your Complexion

you crept in like a storm from the south;

warm and violent and flushed,

unexpected and eager to make your mark.

i rubber-necked at your complexion.

tried to make sense of myself in your freckles.

in a rush to make things different,

you threw your words like bullets,

looking to hit just about anything.

you nicked my mind,

grazed my soul,

left a symptom,
similar to a soldier's,
there in the folds of cranium.
embedded like a bad infection.
i can't seem to keep you off my mind.

Eliminating Weeks

the overly involved rummaging 
through deep dish 

emotional baggage that 
may or may not eliminate 

the next couple of weeks 
into a blurry haze of 

shoulda, coulda, wouldas..

the sombre thoughts of maybes that seem 

to be piling up under the leaky window, 

the disconnected telephone making long 

distances calls to your guts that are filled 

with butterflies and lightening. 
optical preservation 

of things you saw in fashion 
magazines getting distorted 

by things you've seen on the news and why 

shouldn't we be able to 
walk home alone at night..

turn the lamp on it's side for a
different perspective, 

having a conversation that
 doesn't come back to fornication..

and when was the last time you
addressed an envelope with good news..

finish off the bottle, 

i don't care what the reason is anymore.

Hamburger Solutions

my thoughts play a game of chicken on the busy circuit board in my mind, late at night when i am trying to sleep. distracted to a point past slumber, i really am awake, trying to solve my subconscious problems. nothing makes sense in there and factors like the burger i was craving three days prior suddenly rise as probable answers. anything can be solved with a hamburger. i run away from myself to end up facing myself, its a twisted maze of self creating. when i awake i cant remember everything to it's fullest and that irks me more than ever having met myself in a dream anyway. one thing for certain i could go for a hamburger right about now. 

Social Blunders

you pick up your socks and you displace yourself, feels good don't it? you unfold your socks into their spots and stretch out, comfortable, right? you fiddle with an old lighter that was tucked into a front pocket of your best pair of jeans, a mini firework show at the tips of your fingers. you think back. you think on it. you've come this far, lost a few gained, a few more. the world levels itself out. your world, on a teeter totter of social blunders. you think back on them, their faces and in all your memories you remember some malice 

but can't find the point in time when they aimed it at you.

Hanging Out With Your Past Selves

a suspension of sorts,

buoying in a sky of a haphazard daydream,
elated by the sunlight coming in through a window
stained with broken glass and bits of fabric.
hanging out with your past selves,
the ones who are encouraging you 

to clamber out of the window
into memory. you swerve against the grain

end up in recent percolations of things 

that have half happened,
things you've half felt, 

things you haven't fully embraced 

but you want to,
you sure as hell want to.
intrigued by your own memory, 

fact or fiction?
it is the way you perceived it…  

the way you interperatated things,
but you stop and reel on the fact 

of how authentic
is the gray matter atop your head, 

the same mishapened orb
that controls the waves of notice 

that are coursing through your body map.
when you tumble forward into current day, 

closer to the possibilities of nightmares,
your mind still sizzling 

with the opportunity of an experience you're craving.

A Freckle of Boredom

silly wabbit, what's up doc?

placate the brewing storm of thoughts as a frenzy of enchanted indifference seeps into the entire self worth of possibilities. waiting for a walking man that is never going to show up and making mad dashes across intersections of your heart. tipping the wire, a means for explosion, knocking off the top hat on your sheltered secrets. a magic man has lost his rabbit and finds it's meekness in you; divine and beautiful, 

interesting with a freckle of boredom., i want every other freckle. 

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.