Not in the mood for happiness right now, though I should be. Not in the mood for smiling and shopping and making you happy. Can't say I want to see you smile either. I'll stay here and look and type and pretend to read while I watch them mill and ignore and tidy their souls for the season. There's simply too much onrush as of yet to rekindle the warmth of giving. So I'll sit: selfish, silent, a little sad for my lack of shinyness. Maybe tomorrow when these bridges meet, if they do, I'll remember. Now, it's warmer to forget.

A abcess for a soul now.
Full once but now steady hands extract, extoll, relieve the pressure of feeling.
He has done this before I can tell; eyes moving quickly, watching the contents being replaced with emptiness
Watching what once bulged, sag under the weight of absence. Quick suture to stop the escaping poison, let a bit stay to teach the rest how to multiply. Eyes graze his work in admiration of the transformation, of his handiwork.

stepping up, thank you!
got a little tired of that old way
that seemed to seep between the cracks of progress,
making me heavy and fierce.
takes too long to cut corners,
easier to stand up and face it, corners intact.
soft against my skin, this new way i'm in,
slidding into and out of sideways walks,
looking there and here
face to the forward but stroking backways
licking the promise of times steady gaze
happy
skin cling to clothes and slinking off yesterdays drear
wasnt my color anyway.
quick pace
to step
into you

Why did you go? I had things to ask, some memories to tell. I remember Chico! Or your memory of him anyway. I remember there was something that you had been meaning to tell me; that you were proud maybe. I could see it in your eyes at every graduation but it never came around. I could tell that you missed me by the way you hugged me good bye. I'm glad that you always liked the sweaters I got you; you wore them the next time I saw you. I miss your hats and your strong hands, your battle wounds, your snoozing on the couch, sitting drinking coffee and the morning with you, christmas and birthdays and pinatas and presents, that old house in Norwalk with the fort and swing in the backyard, slow car rides (what was the rush?), snoozing by the pool, lotto tickets that never won. I wish you were here to tell me how you proposed and how you felt when we were all born, what it felt like to jump out of planes, your favorite moment, your greatest weakness. But I guess missing makes a memory, means its better than having nothing to touch back on. I wanted to say I love you.

Sinking, sunk backward beyond.
Floating still in an on-rush of absence.
bothered, covered in yesterdays thickness
tomorrow is too far
for me to catch up without losing my breath:
sacrifice of the living

punish me, hard so i dont repeat,
treat me bad so i treat you right.
neglect
forget
sour
dry up
so i cant feel the drain
circling slow and sure
tired of the refrain

call me, tell me how it went when i wasnt there? did she smile at you? eyes only yours? did the drink smell colder? the talk funny in slices of arrogant humor? limberer? dancing among jealous songs? wing man delicious and untouched? smoke twanged between teeth and sharp innuendo. lights flare, and food then, but never before. always acceptable, never debateable. more beer? before 2, no sooner! wish you could curl next to me but shes there, lurking. sorry baby. next time. You didn't call.
i had to imagine.
did you imagine me at all?
sleeping makes the heart grow weary,
dreams stuck to a rancid to and fro.
stuck to when you smoothed me over
and i was undone,
now i am
unraveled.

I went yesterday, alone, sat there for a while, closed my eyes and felt the walls move slowly, in, out, smelling me for the last time. My hair spread across the floor, outlets empty, bed post indentations leave a hungry, naked absence. Dust has no where to go. As it was when I first found it, but different somehow for what we shared. Are we breaking up? You knew it wasn't, couldn't be forever, right? Still hurts though, all the laughs and tears shared, the independence that I grabbed without reservation, a thing I had to have. Alone there usually, shared when necessary, warm and cold, cats and a dog, oatmeal and stew, washer dryer, books, fires, me growing up and out. Seems a part of me still lives there, I'll pick up the mail soon. Send a text every once and a while. Just to see how things are, did they put the bed somewhere else? Does she cook as well as me? Do you miss me? I miss you, sometimes.

I see it now, didn't before. A quiet lights sits next to you, smiling your praise. You, ever so patient, kneel at my shaking insecurities. With hands soft, you lift them to the light so I can see.
Dangling on the line they seem so small, like children merely wanting to play.
On your face, that smile that brings me there with you. Laughing, you see, was what we are good at. Warmth around you, eyes swimming in a sense of perfection, content to collect when dispersed and no sooner. I missed you, kissed you, anxious for you to know what I have to been too shy to tell you over coffee and a movie. I'm ready now.

Don't leave me here.
ITs cold sometimes
And I ache
I had an idea about us
But you'll never see it
Too secret I supose
Don't know how to spell anymore. You were my alphabet.
Silly now, to think a person makes me make sense.

stop to it

why are you still looking?
why do you still care?
What makes that blackness leave your body for mine?
In search of a kill,
in search of creating more emptiness, similar to yours.
I can't help the beauty, the love, the light that
objects to your blackness.
I can't help the caress of sincerity,
the breath of pure joy that overlaps and enfolds
leaving you: cold
smiling as I write, despite your ugly words of a child neglected,
"bitch, whore, miserable, lonely, pathetic, ALONE."
these are not me,
will never, have never, no reference known;
but you.

I can hear them in their disapproval, without words even,
a forboding of whats to come. Cant have a future without a past,
cant disconnect the path behind and the path ahead.
S'that simple: NO
I'M SORRY
I CAN'T
MAYBE LATER
MAYBE NOT
On paper so simple
On skin is a map of sadness
drawn tight to catch tears and fatigue.
On me a resume flawed
A heart forgiving, resusitating what they say
died,
did die,
while I stood screaming in the dark.
But they can't hear me wait.
They don't know where the map leads.
I do, darkness and all.

suns awake, overslept, fumbled with the alarm,
pulled the clouds in tight, lids, lips closed,
cooler than usual, thinking of the day spread out
in front of dozing eyes.
Below they wonder the wait.
Tall and strong usually that makes them scratch their heads.
The games sluggish slow wondering
how to continue.
Rolling up,
clocking in
cooler than warmer
better late than never

I wish I had a part of you to hold,
just at night, alone and timid,
something that would read your story to me
as I fall asleep, something to whisper a song
that only we know,
wrapped around me,
a soft slipping dream, flimsy in the light.
A dream that swirls, smoky and scented,
but it never stays.

With these pieces left, I can orchestrate a grand scheme.
A beautiful crescendo of my ferocity, my voracious sentiment.
I can shrug off your memory when asked as youthful folly;
as a learning process, as if you were a textbook I had to return
at the end of the school year. I will run through and recreate the
world that we were going to tame together hands sorer than
they should be, eyes seeping into the positive tension.
It would be quite a collage due to my stubborness, my inability to
admit to inability.
But
with you
would be something else all together.
Something you can only see with your eyes closed,
till we open them
together.
But we have to be on the same piece of page first

okay,
dont leave me alone.
tag me along with you.
that night with high waters and broken glasses,
that time we sang together, same song same voice,
by the lake when we danced with the water,
cigarettes, frustrated and burning,
beer busting it all up for us to sip,
smiling interact as we sift for tomorrow,
when it will be cool and smooth on our eyes,
when we will walk side by hand by face by us,
and laugh at where weve gone, where weve come
scream for me love, tell me that its over and just starting,
some sunny shore where we will meet again,
huddle in for our share,
closer now, to smell your secrets,
mine are yours for the taking,
take them
take everything,
sun sets,
jet set to today,
hand/hand
face/face
love/love

I guess I thought it would be easier. stip step a pet in my arms there to keep. But I guess anything worth having is worth bleeding for, worth giving something you would rather keep. Walking across a blind intersection, invisible dissection of my predilection leaves me timid and fierce. Expecting change for a transaction I never paid I seem to wait at counters for a receipt.
But today is another side, another brisk walk towards it now. I see it shining on your darkness and I want to pull you into me so we can see this together.
Music now, loud and interrupting my day dream away with the day until its September soon.
A school girl who never wants to leave, but hates every day of it.
A writer who writes about the famine,
a singer who sings when they are sleeping.
A melody that floats up and around together and apart while you sleep away.
In a small room, tough and cold, dreaming about a glass that rattles in your trunk,
a bracelet that you don't remember where it came,
a strange girl, warm lips and nice hips, breathing hundreds of miles away,
dreaming the same dreams,
between sheets of harsh dis-caress,
soap and water, toothpaste shower,
always cold until you sleep,
open your eyes

peach sweater, tender center, converse, laughing smile making everyone nod to you, lean in for the next, chill slightly in your absense, gather steam toward your presense, long legs, deep intention, san francisco, long love, short love, decaf please, natty ice for the night, old phone, old friends, know the dance but not the words, hand next to face next to eyes closing in on my heart,
"will you be mine forever?" lips

yes, between us fantastic friction; delicious isnt it fine?
seems we were hungry all this while while they were feasting.
across a sweating room, a pull swings me out of his arms to yours.
because this song, this ones ours.

you could have asked. i might have obliged. one night when no one was looking but us,
some night when we were alone in a crowd writing each other without even knowing.
keeping count, taking score, remembering the errors rather than runs, relinquishing a tip rather than a kiss. a juncture it seems and we chose opposite forks at the same restaurant.

he bounces when he walks and the world hums to his rhythm. When I first saw him he was dancing in cashmere and I couldn't help to ask: how does one so tall dance so subtlety? his reply was sufficiently grand: its the sweater. Continuing on with the night, I tried to ignore the obvious that was staring at me across the smoke and mirrors. He was singularly sublime and I was waiting for the crash so we compromised when closing time wouldn't. Leaving the fabulous to play cranium until 5. Graceful movements between hands and shuffling feet: we have to dance to that song! Show me how to salsa to Stevie wonder. They watched we turned I lifted he sang the sun shone the night gave in limbs began their descent but my thoughts would not as they returned again and again to the slow samba that was our beginning. Forgive the metal detector around my heart but it has kept what you want someday safe.

timid head peers out
expecting a nose dive,
a silent treatment for no illness,
but instead warm next to me.
yellow sheets frame your face,
tenacious hair attempts rebellion.
eye lashes flutter awake and look
at me
and smile
grab
hold
tight
together
here we are where we always wanted to be
things past are out dated
things to come are a vibrating excitement
but now
now is the sweet,
the dance we practiced
the real of it.
lets make this work.
all that we are is together.

Sour scurrying in the ocean's discontent,
Drinking down prides poison,
between sheets of malleable memoria,
I can feel a distraught woman.
She seeks a kind of sleep that death won't provide.
Face leaking, hands tremble to no cold,
stiff in regret, toughened by yesterdays cold shoulder.
Gently she rises to turn off the ring that sounds off and on
in her forced solitude.
The eyes open and see the light through the dim door,
as he brings her a glass.
For you, he says, to wash it down.
For us, to fill again with that which will not be drained.
The light gets bigger and the cold is a cowardly begger asking for change,
but it is too late.
By the hand, we lift, naked and sure, out the dim,
to the stairs, shift reverse, neutral, drive me to you.
The sun is setting on yesterday, till tomorrow when
we can claim it for ourselves.

Tongue to mouth in a tender so and so,
you hold something affectionate and sacred
here, between fingers and discontent
between your day and mine
is something I left there on purpose
to see if you see.
faith in tomorrows succulent promise
wondering if...
but thats better left to hindsight.
So I'll take a taste of us tonight,
if you'll share. Keep it safe for you
in a place that stays dry.
In case some rainy day, away,
you want to remember me

Thin line between yours and mine,
between night and that subtle day,
a breath of kind infatuation.
Side by side by anticipation
as the nights shade withdraws.
soft song slips between lips when no ones watching,
as we look the other way.
through the back it snuck in.
making the day seem stretched apart and far
until that color that sparks our connection
jumps through.
fingers woven, eyes intact,
rhythmic dancing of the hearts hide and seek,
close, closer, i remember words that i swore were extinct
as a feeling intakes what my mind only winks
warm next to you and the sun pulls me out,
to wait to be in to you again.

Its coming through louder now,
I can hear the words and they whisper a soft inclination
a jumble of a hearts laughing praise,
a request for a heated revelery:
20 and teething on life,
when he would look and really see,
and open the door and say he loved you and he meant it.
When nothing was an obligation but that smile you give.
A strong purity that nestled comfortable and right.
you wonder, on our road, that we drift on and across and over,
can that be real, or a mirage in the desert;
Thirsty for the rhythm of forever that teased and then clocked out.
That crevice that used to give, now dry from the suction,
seems to run clean again, more than before,
though a little less than right afterwards,
until no longer empty to the pull.
Running quicker now, clear and cold,
dancing next to the mirage,
knowing how much one needs the other.

what is it today? yesterday too.
absent
thirsty
shiny lean intoxicant
between hours,
sickened fancies,
a soft flip turns me to you.
sleeping sometimes
sweating often/alone
a sideways look
at my direction
up
and
down
but now,
I shall leave you here.
too busy for that.
walk a little slower
when we pass,
figure your figure.
sigh.
something stays me away
to my place
not yours.

Sharp against my side that wanted warmth.
I saw his face from the angle of infatuation,
a deceiptful direction that leaves you sinking back to the sidelines.
Tomorrow alone is more promising than today with you.
Your fidgeting condescension filled our glasses
while I fatigued at the burden of your arrogance.
Finishing quickly while you dragged your feet;
the pain of your pillar I suppose.
Climbing those stairs again,
clinging to a bed
clamoring for sleep,
on to the next.

i read it today, twice
one after the other,
like hungry breaths after an escape.
Thirsty still,
i looked over the yawning words,
desperate to be revealed,
a steady light shown on,
gentle words to preen and pick,
a soothing voice to call its name.
a hand strong and soft to sooth the
wild phrases turning every which way.
"renegade" it says.
escaping from what they know to create your own.
people can raise a finger but that will be all.
exception, an idea in their throat they long to purge
and allow to roam away.
that's you.
so i read it again to digress their protest.
simple letters in a row.
black white
spaced/un
the same language in a different tone
the same motion but sideways
the same girl but prismatically unobstructed.

so you're leaving
do you expect a party?
a card?
me to cry and beg?
I am out.
fresh out!
don't ask or give me that look,
or even expect me to summon some type of lament.
some wire mixed insists on progenated indignation,
a type of feline frustration that eagerly ignores.
You know I adore you,
you know that when we are alone
there is a tenacious bridge built between monuments.
that we finish each other's themes,
that there is a tender-energy that takes over in its capacious generosity.
You know all this yet you demand.
you detest here
where i find it fond.
some young shoot that grew,
you so glibly break in the name of self interrogation.
never will it sprout the same,
never will the veins drain to the same breaths and woes,
the same joys and sleeping tender surrender.
all i have is this:
me
in front of you,
my face in your hands,
all worth it,
all done with cause and fierce inclination;
stay.

flooded with satisfaction, quiet calm, tender tension.
succulent surrender,
jaded innocence making me light and forgetful.
I know why you're here, I know why you came.
I see what it is that sings me your name,
at night, in the day when I should swing away;
you call.

strength stretches out when I thought there was none,
when they said it was gone,
when they stepped on my words of reassuring resistance.
out, through the middle, between their points of disarray,
a strange-yawning smiling tantrum shakes me awake!
tremulous and tedious, willing to have it taken,
knowing it will return, like a wave,
only bigger this time as the amorous tide falls for the moon,
crooning praise and longing to its love.
padded and forceful, fundamentally flawed in its irrational repetition,

that is my fate,
that is my functional dysfunction:
to love you.

pumping now,
firing simultaneous surrender.
the lines stray away leaving me dizzy
then the ground leaves me swinging
its fine here, with quick singing sighs flying by
quick to make my eyes whine,
but; on, forward, pursue, caress.
a stray kite tail kisses my regard,
a wayward bird questions my agenda,
a jet grunts its mechanic disagreements.
Still, firm, dancing, slipping into gravity's greed.
my hair disarray, my skin swept, my vision
new

make it quick,
now,
when no one is looking.
between dreams and mobile interactions,
lucrative shadowboxing,
adjacent innuendo;
propped up by fierce dreaming daily
I can taste the breath you leave on my shelf.
Solid and pure of indecency.
Soaking in a lucid daydream
that transcends to tomorrows laundry.
Line dry in the breeze that rubs your fancy
and pretties up your hair.
Across,
the lights dim around all but us.
conveyor belts in different directions,
drawing closer,
mannequins frozen,
until contact
that the eyes already knew.
"my heart's too big!"
"my mouth is just right!"
"take small bites, digest it well,
make it a part of you"
"yes, you do as well"
{kissing foreheads}
warmth within and out.
that was how it was.

That one was strong, decrepid: fierce.
Had me by the throat for a painful while.
Sharp tears cut my motionless pale face.
The darkness covered, but the night knew,
like it always does.
Running town down, away from you,
screaming my injustice, aggravated defence.
I want you gone.
Speeding through it day after week it slows to a crawl;
that memory you left.
Red, black blood stains that place in time.
A spot unremoved,
that pain undenied,
that girl swallowed whole;
only to be reborn on the other side.

ring knock knock knock call ring again
see what it does
see me cut the anchor.
tenuous and small,
that string
that strung me to you.

alone please
after and before
tomorrow and later
just in case
but beside the point
preventing a mistake
by creating a disaster
I will save and salvage
the pieces you thought were you
shiny pretty and new,
put back
away
alone
...

He found it outside, beneath a poplar tree, out of plain sight, but when you really look its right between the eyes. Picking it up, it was heavier than he expected and cold to the touch. Colder than it should be on this balmy August evening. The sun cast pieces of light across his face and hands as he held and looked but didn't really see. His eyes were else where remember when he first put his eyes on what was now in his hands...
She was there then, sitting between his knees on the step below his. He could see her hair shake with her laughter as Billy cracked every one's lips to smiling. Through her strands of golden he saw specks of sunlight dances within in and about. He could feel the timidity of her pale green sweater with his eyes. She half turned and asked him if he could believe this guy. But he really couldn't pay any attention to anything outside of the warm that sat in front of him. He wanted to tell her something, anything that would make her stay, anything that would make him serious, if only to her, but he just didn't know. He couldn't tell the difference between child and adulthood while she was already on cruise control. But he smiled and said, "that's why I invite Billy to most formal occasions" and the smiling was now directed at him for a moment which helped to hide the stiff resistance he constantly felt in his decision to love or lust.
He stood abruptly and commented on the bodily need that forced his exit. Paula leaned over as he jumped over her and down the stairs of his parents summer cabin porch. Tonight was the first night of a very important week, the week that meant nothing, and he was going to make it count. Walking through trees to disallow easy viewing, but allowing auditory participation, he began and then stopped.

Condensed condescension, tight across your face, leaving me out.
Should I have said something else? Should I have lied?
Straight out of mouth, into your disgust; festered and sore.
There was nothing left to keep me, there was no more sympathy to dry my disdain.
Lying lies that nobody buys, eyes clearly distorting a lack of tear.
I took what was left of my plucked heart.
With the distance growth stirs, firing your darkness, harboring your deep seeded emptiness.
Can't pretend to fake it, can't clear my throat of emotionlessness.
I'm sorry, but I will sing your song when you're gone, raise you up to that status of forever.
Licking away your broken pride, your slit ego weeping self praise.
Love isn't the word for it anymore.

"wincing the night away"

Something I woke up knowing, that seeped in tandem tired: quiet.
A secret skips, tips over, leaving: puddles.
HE knew, lanky in his malnutritioned morality, making dreams: timid shy,
YET,
the rooster you mentioned, then repositioned, chortling mornings praise leaves me stiff with smiling.
You can keep that shapeless imposition, that transitions my condition from bad to worse.
Sleep alone, with that heckler, that harbinger of restitution.
Wake weary and redden from your mouthy dictation, sick slick in apology.
I have this fine appointment to dine with decency, that which neglected you in your
infancy and leaves you thirsty still.
Distance marks my throats vibrations, away and lucratively translucent to you.

Faint inclination toward yesterday's instigation, while sipping on tomorrow. Succulent, tender between lips of appreciation. Leaning back toward a cushion conditioned in leisure. Book tangled between fingers of delicate caress,ing words skate my head leaving me jealous infatuated.
I can see the obligation pacing outside my door, grimacing passive resistant. Side glance is all I can afford him now while Umberto wraps me up in carmelized fantastic, dripping of procrastinations aroma. The lazy rays shift here and there slicing shades, my room a discoball reversed, trees drop their burden on a wooden porch slightly neglected, feline affection warm next to my oversight. Sun clocks out leaving a cherry tinged cloud spray array, as if a red sock were washed with all those whites in my oblivion.

Glad I wasn't awake...
He picked me up from the airport. I ran away to forget, but then it all came back to me with the rush of freezing air. He had a strange radar on his dashboard that measured the frequency of his efficiency. It seemed to dance when I was in the car; a bright green light that whizzed and chirped and beeped out his life's meter. I felt stretched and trembling with your rigid demeanor and wished I'd taken a taxi. He asked me if I had love. I admitted my follies as I would to my confessor. He smile smirked at my heart's weakness, as if it were something to be considered in an application for a job that I would never get. Pulling closer to town, he claims marriage and finality and I sink a little because he thinks he's won. Sarah was her name, I think. He was towing her truck, a glossy replica of mine, now long gone. He seemed to wink in his approval of her substance. His green light highwired. If I had one, it blipped for a split. Nothing serious though. Nothing that would cause me to change my trajectory. When we met our destination, I got out, turned around and took the next taxi back home. As I walked away, his light turned off for the length of my distance, then continued on it's forced decision. I needed the unnecessary to show me what was missing. I won't miss it this time. If I had a light, I know exactly how it would look.

Because you're tall, and lean, and know what you are going to be doing tomorrow. You can see it.
Also, that you have a coat that you secretly love but will share one day. Those shoes too, and the hat that has a air of certainty about it, like it knows more than most. That, when you speak, I cling to it, like guitarist follows singer, hoping not to miss anything. Your words stroke me until I am sastisfied, I think, then a quick demand rises again. But also, when I speak, you nod to know and when I look away, I feel your eyes on me, appreciating. You read more than me, want to write me, cry, make music, jog faster than me (for shorter distances), live in a constant state of understated awe. And when you eat, it becomes a part of your existence, if only for a moment. When you read to me, when you sing to me, when you hold my hand and say forever. When you lick my pride and tickle my fears, when your words are soft because mine are too hard. Because you call your mother, when you hold the cat, when you water the plants, when you slip into everyone of my thoughts without me even noticing.
Thats why.

Baby, why'd you go? You left me here shrinking to disease, sinking toward a unending upending.
Muscles tear away, leaving bone and blood to fend for themselves. A warmth I knew acts a stranger, an odd addition wanting to leave when no one is looking. On a bench, in a place that should have none: concrete cushion, stealing heat and leaving a sobering chill. I look at the spectacle of alone, sore thumb is too small for this. Its like they know, and distance themselves.
I can take this though, nothing new. I can see an end to this end, and an opening in my optimistic imaginings. Nonetheless, that simple pain that is lodged between valves, that feeds on the body's breathing, is a burden that wears...

Solemn and right,
wooden in your non commital resistance;
plying you open for a chance at temptation.
Natural instincts compell you, and nothing else.
Yet I fascinate with the idea of tremulous intoxication,
of when the sun meets the stone on a day left undecided,
of when the sky hands the moon a chance at proximity.
Large, red and toxic in it's nearness and still I shake.
Fiberous filth saturates my reality,
choking my eyes,
pulling all hair on end,
waiting for results of a test I didn't study for,
seeking regulations,
seeking the deadline;
blindly and without regard.

Sweet thing,
between my strings,
slippin along some comfortable song.
I love you there, where I can't see you;
flip of sounds between my thoughts,
can't sing straight these days,
you swerve me solid and true,
undeniably waiting for...
A light lavender scents my days,
swinging soft and lucid
of your daybreaks and night takes.
Oh, that pull you bring,
closer every now and then,
enough to keep my breath.
Sigh it in, keep it a bit,
the flavor of forever,
s'worth the wait.

Red, in a row, crumb fragments of words, dissected ideas,

on display, a conveyor belt of my weakend fancy.

Pick one out, shiny new concoction,

peel back the protective plastic...

Strolling some walk, the sky striations of whispered softness,

the breath of the day swings past us,

admiring our stride as we admire its warmth.

"Strange for January."

Slow steps, anxious to wait; for another breath,

for a sign that your listening, have been all along.

Soon the dimmness dominates

and through it I see you there.

A soft placement of contentment

between your fingers,

between my contentious disbelief,

between moments of feigned distraction,

is you and I.

"Its gonna hurt," she said, "at first your gonna want to die, like the first time you bleed out of control, when you watched it come and come and you didn't know where it would end."
Jonathon wondered if that ever had happened before, but then he visualizes a scar under his chin that he earned at the age of four; before reality had set in. He hadn't mastered the brick wall in the backyard before the wall had mastered him. Nearly making it over the top, his velcroed shoes slipped, with the rest of him. He saw the top of the neighbors pomegranant tree before his eyeline was pulled away abruptly by his over excitement of being on top. He pictured his mother screaming more than him. He remembers her alarm, hysterics, lack of control as the warmth covered his yellow Seasame Street shirt and figured he knew what Anna was talking about, that loss of level, of knowing that it would be okay.
He had always been the type that wanted to know so that he didn't have to know what was beyond. He liked to know limits so he never had to extend past them. He often reflected on his life as if it were a resume; middle school: average, high school: average, college: average (if he ever finishes). Sterile remarks from teachers and professors, if they even remembered him. On the level, straight and narrow. But when he was with Anna, even level seemed bad; straight seemed predictable and narrow was the last thing he wanted. She was the opposite of all these things and he liked it. She was sharp enough to cut if you werent looking, kind enough to keep you interested, and always never, completely incomplete, hungrily starving, loud, unrestrained beauty in every sense of the word. Her, next to him, flavored his existence, made him cry for what he never did. The absense of her in his life made him desperate. The very idea of not seeing her tomorrow made him crazy, the kind of crazy that crack induces; gradual and without regard.
So he stepped forward, took it, and prepared for an experience he had only witnessed.

Sway between days of illicit longings,

judging the wind and finding it fair,

you stand tall and fine, away.

Limbs, a listless libido with no landing,

I crawl, then walk then run, then pause.

A brief stay, a breath away,

breathing you in,

eyes shatter what it was,

scents wag preconception,

touch; a misaligned memory,

relies to heavily on fragment facts.

But the wind knows;

the wind sighs, breathes, touches,

taints me forever with you,

you who stands there,

away,

without me.

1/2

While away, out, among, smokey, diluted, intox...

Fantastic flow, how it goes, when you are by yourself in a full room. I'm hungry for you to take me away by the sweep of your face, so we can finally taste this.

half face recreation makes you sigh for a silent frequency. I can remember a day when I couldn't get enough of your revelry, of your educated adultery. What did I do wrong...

Faberge Humpty Dumpty: If I had a flashlight I would look into you and find those broken pieces that no one wants glue to, but you forgot that trance that keeps things, that makes it whole; the thing that lets us stare up naked, up when the world sleeps, up when everyone is looking down;
that it's not the glue that keeps us, but the pieces, spread wide and apart.

Omar: We seem as Faberge eggs, but as people we aren't that way. we aren't pristine things to look at as beautiful. we are as we are: pretty, ugly, solitary, anything but pristine! We are tainted. Tainted as such! We should see each other as such. Are we an experiment on this earthy? Maybe. But whatever it is, our lives will continue regardless. I hurt, but so does everyone, it seems as were the blind leading the blind when asked about death. Love, life, death, it all ends the same, but booze and laughter make it all worth while.