Pleased for a King.

Stand tall and silent in the face of me;
against the trickery of the Milky Way…
in compliance with the God of Defiance;
forget ever seeing me broken this way…

This prayer is born of necessity;
these pitiful tears turn out to be mine…
I again, come back to feel your whip crack;
I’ve been lost: following the eyes of blind…

Please grant to me: your moments asleep;
I’d be pleased if a King was to still dream of me…
don’t cast me too far beyond your sovereign reach;
please circle back for me, before you finally leave…

Without your presence of balance, I’ve lost my way;
I need your conversation and I want feel your kiss…
time to act, no holding back another single day;
what’s most important here is that we can still do this…

Palms up to push at the bottom of your heart;
but you cursed and swatted me away…
I bet you will look for me here eventually;
after I died waiting to see that “someday”.

Hangman’s Blood.

He sat, legs out-stretched;
his drink, known as Hangman’s Blood…
he wore exhaustion…

“I’m a Jar-head, Babycakes…”
blue diamond eyes, a match strikes;
“Of course I still smoke…”

sports bright twinkly stars,
eyes: adorned by shrapnel scars…
lives for deployment…

he carries no clue;
beyond decorative brass…
of how deeply he is adored…

A career Sand-Tank Gunner;
my first Love, look at you now…
I still see so much fire in you.

Hangman’s Blood.

He sat, legs out-stretched;
his drink, known as Hangman’s Blood…
he wore exhaustion…

“I’m a Jarhead, Babe…”
blue diamond eyes, a match strikes;
“Of course I still smoke…”

sports bright twinkly stars,
eyes: adorned by shrapnel scars…
lives for deployment…

he carries no clue;
beyond decorative brass…
that he is adored…

A career Tank-Gun;
my first Love, look at you now…
I see fire in you.

Kentucky.

It’s been,
creeping in,
foreseen,
in dreams,
the planetary,
aligning again;
late in the year,
of twenty-something,
on the umpteenth,
at approximately,
three-forty-three,
a plane will land,
to force the hand,
and, I’ll be in Kentucky;
I’ll go beyond,
wherever I’m expected,
to have gone,
just to shine the light,
at the face that’s right,
the one who deserves,
to be shined upon,
for the many things,
that he both, has,
and hasn’t done.
Same ol’ owner,
of the same,
ol’ work-boots,
same steamy boxcar,
same dreams,
tried and true.

Pleased for a King.

Stand tall and silent in the stardust;
against the trickery of the Milky Way…
in compliance with the God of Gods;
in regret of the very words I must say…

This prayer is born of necessity;
these pitiful tears turn out to be mine…
I have veered from the path in my travels;
I am guilty of following the eyes of blind…

Please grant me your moments asleep;
pleased for a King to still dream of me…
don’t cast me far from your sovereign reach;
please circle back round before you leave…

Without your wisdom, I lost my balance;
I need your presence and I want your kiss…
it’s not important to me how this gets done;
what’s important is that we can still do this…

Palms both up to rush the face of the clock;
in stone if they need to become that way…
I know that you will someday look for me here;
and I intend to be here for that “someday”.

We Went to Unsecret, Different Schools Together.

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NOTE: Even at a post-wedding-ceremony party, S is snapped crying while J just wants to get down and cut a rug

Beginning as far back into life as either of us can remember, we have somehow genuinely been: thick as thieves. At one time, she had longer hair and seemed much taller than me, even donned dress flats to make her Mama happy once in a while…although it was I that sucked my thumb until I was five, she cried often and was sensitive – surprise, surprise. Her skin thickened later on in life, but during childhood, she was kind of a sissy.

Bruce Springsteen – CHECK.

Handcuffed together inside of a high security paddy wagon – CHECK.

1980’s eye crystal blue eye shadow and feather bangs – CHECK.

Teddy Ruxpin (and cassette tapes) – CHECK.

Piercings in unspeakable places – CHECK.

Ever-Revolving door of chaotic Life-Phases ranging in severity – CHECK.

Direct Tissue/Organ Donation – CHECK. CHECK.

Secret Matching Tattoos – CHECK.

Disturbing and vague shared recollections involving a drunken exotic bird and many, many bottles of Tequila – CHECK.

(CIRCA 19–)
Here, you can easily see the perfect demonstration of our days together in childhood.
(We are at either end: I am the blonde piglet and she is the snickering shithead)
Directly after this was snapped, I was nearly beaten to death by my playmates (S included) for “eating on the clock”.

(CIRCA 19–)    S had a traumatic jellyfish experience at the beach early in life, rendering her perpetually in malcontent on any shoreline, anywhere. This photo was taken only a matter of hours prior to her attack, and clearly captured my evil fatmouth full of lies and false assurances to her of her safety.

Our days as friends had no beginning, and will never end.

We've been solid since back when your "bikini" left tan lines that made no sense at all.

We’ve been solid since back when your “bikini” left tan lines that made no sense at all.

(CIRCA 19–) One time, the two of us agreed that we’d made a trivial mistake…soon afterward however – we realized we’d been wrong.

When we became bored with finger painting in preschool, we whisked ourselves away to religiously shrouded monasteries of truth and light, barely visible off the Eastern coast of…some place that was very far away;

we learned to write in Latin… to shoot like the archers from times long dead to history books and chainmaille legends…we gladly taught them to eat with their hands like savages – a few steps back towards their pastel colored roots.

We always eventually overstayed our welcome, wherever we went – and were either escorted beyond the perimeter or politely asked to be on our way.

Drunken Sailorettes – CHECK.

Military AirSupport Dropouts – CHECK.

Shitty Low-Budget Horror Movie Extras – CHECK.

I could go on, but need to save something for future volumes of the Unsecret Chrons…

More of the fictitious story of “us” to come…maybe.

(CIRCA 19–) NOTE: We are seated on the far left end of bench (I am holding a net wtf?) Immediately after this one was snapped, we made history by leaping up from the bench and affecting a medieval style catapult, launching the three remaining girls as well as the creepy, freeze-dried cat well over the internationally recorded current best of 59.05 m into the air.