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Aging and Waking UpStill younger than I am old,
yet I age each day
and I wonder what I am,
what I'm doing,
I know who I used to be,
but who am I now?
sometimes my arms feel longer than my legs,
my knuckles scrape against the ground
and I wonder if the scabs on my skin will
heal and fall off,
though as I fall down,
I know it will feel better to get up,
my heart continues to ache in ways I don't understand,
because being in love with life feels similar to feeling lonely,
so much to feel, to ache for,
it is more than a slow exhalation,
it is excruciatingly beautiful,
I am now more than sick of dreaming,
being alive is being awake.
A Journal Entry on Love and Sleep DisordersI have not written yet this year. I wonder sometimes if I am really alive. I am afraid of what I am because I do not know and not knowing makes me nervous. Anxious. Anxiety: a tight knot in the throat; a welling in the gut; a fast paced mind. My mind, my body. I know all of these aches so well they bring me comfort. I have been tired for so long that feeling awake feels extraordinary. My senses are heightened, I feel more, I cry because I find things beautiful, I get angry out of nowhere. But I do not mind, no I cannot mind for I'd rather feel everything intensely than not be able to feel anything at all. I was numb for so long that waking up has made every moment more passionate. I want my family and friends to understand how deeply I love them. I get overwhelmed by the intensity of love for my other half. There is a physical ache somewhere in my volcanic heart when I think of the way I love him. I could never have guessed this is what love would feel like in a waking mind. I would bl
the way the lights come together,
though your lips part,
you make it easier to breathe when I can feel you exhale.
II. Blossoms on my forearms
and blood on my thighs,
when I see your soft smile
there is a welling beneath my ribs,
this sense of yearning where if honey were love,
I'd want to drowned you in it,
let the syrup sink into your lungs so you could breathe in my love.
III. While I met you when I was asleep,
when I heard your heart beat, I never felt more awake,
and now it's more than that,
I am alive,
the fog has cleared,
my skin is raw,
and clarity has settled in.
IV. The emptiness,
the aching in my chest;
I lost them all upon finding you,
for loss breeds new beginnings
and though this is foreign,
it also feels fresh.
Nightmares, Light, and the Experience of DyingI've got nightmares in my veins,
raw lips and peeled back skin,
you haunt me in the divide,
in the spaces in between,
cut me open,
open at the ankles,
my dreams will escape through my feet,
I once dreamt I was a wolf,
I was everything, I was nothing,
I was throaty growls and teeth tearing into flesh,
give me venison, give me rabbit,
fresh game on a November night,
what happens to the feeling when you decide to let go?
To give into instinct, to intuition,
finding a place where hunger defies rational thought,
I have always been more animal than human,
more carnivore than peacekeeper,
though I have found peace in the cycle of life,
born to die, dying all the time,
thus lucidity floods my mind
and I dissolve into the ocean of death,
but if I were to die now, would I then, truly come alive?
I am not afraid,
for what is death if not a way for us to come together again?
The light that finds me in the dark,
I, a moth, cling to the flickering flames,
to the dim lamp,
I grasp for light in a fiel
After DuskThere's something beautiful to longing,
and I have longed for you even before I met you,
the ache in my chest,
the spaces in between heartbeats,
no, love is not a lie with you.
To Love a WolfI. Lust is a skin disease,
your skin on mine,
our forearms brush
and harmonies fall hard on our backs,
the air runs thick through our opaque paper lungs
as we move in forests of wild bamboo and ripened fruit,
there is an art to being succulent,
ready to be plucked from an orchard tree
as an apple,
as a tangerine,
as a cherry.
II. Love lies in the mind,
in the heart,
a subtle pull, a tug,
and I'm writhing on the floor in heaps of untamed emotion,
to say I love you?
the empathy rolls off my tongue like my own saliva,
I've started swallowing chameleon hearts to blend with the earth,
but you can still see me,
for I never fell for you,
I rise and have risen,
with you, a wolf, I have howled,
the moon has sewn your veins into mine
so not only is this passion, this is love.
Carnivores and LoversThe horizon melts down over my eyelids,
the hot oranges settle into my scalp
until I'm growing flames where my hair should be,
succulent pink flamingos dance among the sunset
and your tongue tastes of cherry wildflowers,
you've got that sweet maraschino blood
that I would love to bathe in,
feel the redness of the sea waters rise over
my pale thighs,
we ride the chills
and soak in the heat,
we're too in love to let go,
the manipulation, the anger, the fear
all have led me to this place,
I no longer live beneath a dulled mind and
I no longer need the rum to satisfy those lonely winter night
and I'd been aching for so long,
though it eased and it eased
as summer passed,
now it's as if I've been plucked from the graveyard
that lies in my own mind,
then you went and caught me in the midst of a rebirth,
you ran your moon carved fingertips
through my fiery fresh locks,
and now you're tracing over my arctic bones
like you want to remember every
so snap me at
To BeginI love your skin,
the way it hums melodies against my own,
that warm buzz that exudes out your pores like honey,
but I love you for more than your skin,
I love your soul and the way it moves me,
the way your chest rises to fall again,
the way you make me feel like I've just begun in an ending world.
A Rush of Blood, The Way Love AchesI feel him feeling me
and then I feel him letting go,
fingertips slip away from my skin,
and my ribs are left with a ghost's impression,
vertical lines run up and down my thighs
and the sun kisses the small of my back,
my blood, oh, my blood,
it runs red as my sins,
my legs break at the synapses
but I can feel the moon putting me back together,
the darkness pulls me but I am no longer afraid,
something tells me I've been here before,
fresh meat, no longer fresh, but tender,
now I'm flipping through the pages of his mind,
but I've found his heart has it's own set of teeth,
for he has latched onto me with leechy fangs
that fall hard against my neck like torrential rain,
my body shivers under chemistry's touch,
helium, krypton, cadmium,
he melts me down,
the way his atoms interact with mine,
but science can't give reason for this kind of state,
the one where bodies are abandoned
and souls catch fire in a colliding wind,
I can feel his essence become mine
and I let go,
I don't need logic w
...Tension, is building between
our bones; cracking
these boundaries that bind
[lets not get lost in the moment
Our Wayward Starsguide the specimen
through the maze
and through the rain
rinsing our clothes
like they're still on fire
and somewhere, well
they probably are
and you pray
like tomorrow itself
is the fuel
that empties our dark places
like what lives there
goes away at dawn
but it doesn't
and i pray
like tonight itself
is the dark
that fuels our light
like what lives in each
feeds the ugly other
and it might
but, we're all prey
and the dream itself
is the place where
our chemical flames
hit the surface
flailing as we sink
in panicked clothes
from a distance
we must look like
lost, accepting the
drowning slow burn
of our descent
we look like what we are
I bet she smells of laurel and pineI've made a career of
standing on the back porch -
calling your name into
the wide-open ears of
You step from the house
to beckon me inside
but I swear a piece of you
is missing; escaped
into wilder arms years ago.
Asabikeshiinh (Filter)Asabikeshiinh (Filter)
I wear the dream snare like a chain.
The willow hoop filled with spider thread,
sway loose as the aves feathers
and the spun yarn traps the fallen.
I tread subconsciousness
like salmon swim
in the falls of Williamette.
And watch the net
take hold of chimera,
a phantasm of phenomena
as I greet the cousin of death
with a firm shake of the hand
and respectful grin.
But wisps of spirits tempestuous
reverberate throughout the lace,
as the new day slowly begins to take shape.
Light returns to Earth as my eyes open.
Conceptions' theories last so long
before absoluteness' presence grabs hold.
I'd rather immerse myself in abstractions.
Big BadI wanted to conquer the whole world, but
all I got was a dark room
and a fistful of dimes.
I remember being sixteen, an
American Spirit burning near my lips,
head out the passenger window
as we sped on like triumph...
You can laugh at the stars
for being so far
away, and it won't cost you
You can blow ash on the grass
and burn holes in the sole
of your shoes,
and it won't cost you
anything but time.
It was those nights
with the cigarettes
and the stars, there was
no promise in it,
no hope either. A big joke
we can all point at, we can
tilt the bottle and laugh.
The yellow half moon
half smiled with us.
The sun those nights
held its head with us.
Life without promise,
one big bad joke
and we were
the god damn punchline.
The Denial Of Truth?Why they
Don't listen to you,
Until it's too late?
Don't believe in you,
Until it's too late?
Start to listen
When it's too late?
Start to believe
When it's too late?
Couldn't listen to you,
When they should have?
Couldn't believe in you,
When they should have?
I let the water take controlIt's been awhile since I've been underwater,
so I drew myself a bath
and let the water rush itself into the tub
like blood to the brain,
as it pooled into the fiberglass basin
I felt the tides start to rise
while the pond I created began to
encase every limb,
my lips brushed against the water
in a liquidated kiss
and my blonde locks melted into the sea
as if my name were Medusa and
my strands of hair were snakes,
but my body dissolved into what it used to be,
I became the water and the water became me.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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