Chase.

I once told you I hoped that you wouldn’t chase,

the path made by my footprints as I ran away,

not to follow my feet as they endlessly tread,

places called “home” in my paranoid head,

your eyes used to follow my eyes,

As they darted about the night skies,

you’d trace a pinky down my cheeks,

Down the trails from tears deemed obsolete,

do not follow my confused insanity,

into the cursed forest of ancient trees,

I don’t want you to see as I mindlessly carve,

indecipherable messages into their bark,

I‘d rather that you might remember times,

when I still held a more lucid state of mind,

as I was back when I first asked of you

to someday cut me completely loose,

back when my feet could not yet carry through,

with any of the deeds that I still have to do,

do not falter in those old promises now,

you must override your heart, somehow,

you must stifle the desire you’ve come to feel,

to follow me into the darkness of Hell,

I’d rather you carry on in the warmth of the sun,

to pick up, dust off, and carry on,

Past all the times that your foolish pride,

had you believing that we were solidified,

but it’s time to defy what we feel inside,

just let go and let yourself bleed for a while,

the loss will fade eventually,

same as my footprints into the trees,

you must finally stop any pursuit of me,

and let me self-fulfill this unwell prophecy.

 

 

 

Eating Thorns.

All this time

in between

then and now

been simmering

been building up

rather patiently

brooding silently

been grinding teeth

been stomping feet

been digging holes

with an upward swing

eating poisonous thorns from trees

like it’s sugarcane

with Mexico’s best peyote

cigars and syringes

sparkling fringes

champagne, cocaine

and pornography

somewhere out there

fathomed too deep

where I hardly sleep

but my eyes stay closed

my mouth remains sewn

over words of my own

this place is forsaken

this space can’t be taken

the loose change shaken

from the secret pockets

sewn inside my cheeks.

 

Schemistry.

A very shifty combination,
so decried the chemistry,
mixing hard-earned salvation,
in with exponential insecurity…

A noteworthy disintegration,
in the joints behind each knee,
an ever-hanging expectation,
that it will give way eventually…

A monotonous lamentation,
such disappointment did I bring,
a repetitive declaration,
a tourniquet – always reminding…

A mind full of a heart’s degradation,
a swan hiding wolves beneath each wing,
a perfected form of pure placation,
the rejected face the glass is reflecting…

A very questionable equation,
the sheet of paper full of scribbling,
an indefinably cold sensation,
took out knees and left me shivering.

Portentious.

To sleep through its entirety,

this world clinging to me,

to pass up its absurdity,

and flash by in obscurity;

 

A couplet,

a trumpet,

wings ripped from a body;

 

A prophet,

a puppet,

the line thins out steadily;

 

To keep time to the marching feet,

trotting before and after me,

to be ignored and put to sleep,

and pass by flailing blindly;

 

A sunset,

a trinket,

sunk too deep to retrieve;

 

A target,

a portent,

no skin on my knees.

 

 

 

Full of Guts and Seeking Glory.

We had spent all of ‘eternity’,

as we both knew the word to be,

swaying in time to a ticking,

the archaic music of a dying breed,

a mixture of feelings,

stacked up to the ceiling,

the shift in direction so subtly,

akin to the route of my thinking,

I define what is the lonely,

unyielding and unbending,

I despise my own tale’s ending,

tired of telling the story,

full of guts and seeking glory,

I will seek for all my days,

I will break for my own sake,

you can’t console me,

you won’t be able to hold me,

I seem to slip on through,

no stitching remains rip-free,

tears up and along the seam,

those same old railroad tracks to my dreams,

I shake awake too late to warn you,

we’ve already gone,

you and me.

Boiling Divine.

I awoke to the shine of the light in my mind,

bubbling over the brim of the boiling divine,

and I asked the Gods why they’ve kept me alive,

no answer came back and I closed my eyes;

 

I blocked off all the passageways leading deep inside,

this place isn’t fit for those besides the likes of you and I,

I removed the duct-tape and my mouth dropped open wide,

I reused the same piece to hide the hatred in my eyes;

 

my spirit was nowhere near my defeated black flag,

my soul never embraced the replaced chains and gags,

I might be taken out like last week’s garbage bag,

but I will keep with me, every injury that I’ve ever had;

 

I finally shut out the sun and flooded the compound,

I stamped out the memories left lying around,

I screamed at the Gods until they too, fell down,

and I firmly believe that they are listening now.

 

 

 

Baited.

Never will you endeavor to mind,

I’ll just be here hanging on the line,

baited breath for the elusive reply,

skin that burns at the turn of your blind eye…

forever and ever spins this glitch in time,

laid out before those very shaded eyes,

a charted route you refuse to recognize,

tongues that sting as they swing and spill lies…

not a moment wasted of your precious time,

no second thought over this burden of mine,

watch me continue, pass right down the line,

no turning back to paint black what I leave behind…

you’ve surely exposed yourself fully this time,

displayed by the drunkenness such greed defines,

so many chances to ignore your beloved dollar sign,

any opportunity to do right by me has at last, passed you by.

 

Timepress.

 Do you remember the days of Sand, when we met?

How the stars above were filled with awe…

And the sun shone brightest upon YOU and ME,

All bestowed with the blessings of Ra.

For OURS was a union, never foreseen,

Not by my Master, not by your Queen;

A bond of all lifetimes,

It turned the kindest man green.

While the Bronze days that followed,

Never quite had the feel of tomorrow

Bore secrets and legends made of victories and sorrow…

Shared by the trace of a bloodline

So ancient to this present space and time;

But YOU and I can still taste the flesh upon which we dined…

It is gone but not lost on the time we have borrowed.

So confusing, this fear pent up full inside here,

And the pangs have gotten stronger

I know YOU are near…

To find YOU again in an Iron of times

Has long sent the mysteries of the dead up my spine

Just to lose YOU once more in the throes of my mind…

The journey thus has been so unkind, so untrue to this soul of mine.

I reach for you now

Because I feel you there once more

Unsure and afraid of what you’ve come back to reach for,

But most certain that I can’t set these fires anymore.

Your soul knows all that will be, or has been,

Has it truly been written in limestone and sand grain?

That your return will be a mockery of destiny’s reunion…

 How many centuries have we buried in this sand?

Repeat the beat upon my chest for taking your shaking hand,

once again, we face each other for another final stand,

the sweetest of sauce,

can’t ease such a loss of such an elusive man.

Eating Thorns.

All this time

in between

then and now

been simmering

been building up

rather patiently

brooding silently

been grinding teeth

been stomping feet

been digging holes

with an upward swing

eating poisonous thorns from trees

like it’s sugarcane

with Mexico’s best peyote

cigars and syringes

sparkling fringes

champagne, cocaine

and pornography

somewhere out there

fathomed too deep

where I hardly sleep

but my eyes stay closed

my mouth remains sewn

over words of my own

this place is forsaken

this space can’t be taken

the loose change shaken

from the secret pockets

sewn inside my cheeks.

 

Ultimately.

It was ultimately for naught,

my face tattooed by bird-shot,

an undeniable blanket of doom,

an indefinable pain in the womb,

It was the robbery of things,

my things; weaseled away from me,

stolen from me in my deepest sleep,

secretly spilling the oaths that I keep,

crumbling away the loosened layers,

that block the pathway to my nightmares,

it was the ending of good things,

the increase of physical pain,

our thing just began surely fade,

beyond the recognizable state,

things agreed to in former times,

come back around to materialize,

smacked with back of an outstretched palm,

that threw a desperately driven smoke bomb,

the palm that bears the dead to the tomb,

the palm of the hand you refused to hold onto.

Warning Shots.

Click. Spin. Click.
First warning shot:
Please…
don’t say,
anything to me…
your words,
cut and slash,
my skin invisibly…
Click. Spin. Click.
Number two for you:
See…
it’s about,
the powdery,
kegs full and ready,
to explode,
beneath my feet…
Click. Spin. Click.
Number three:
Believe…
when I swear,
on everything,
dear to me,
to make my way,
someday,
my own blaze,
of my own glory…
Click. Spin. Click.
Last kind gesture:
Leave…
if you’re smart,
if you can see,
the truth,
instrumentality,
the far reach,
of little ol’ me.

Down.

They all stared at me

eyes, empty of feeling

souls, judging and cruel…

rows upon rows of darkened holes

hollowed out eyes of dolls

crusted and crumbling from stucco…

this building is home to ghouls

ghostly spirits of the dead

the Doppler effect of a moaning cry…

overhead, the lights stop burning

the darkness becomes complete and I succumb

falling downward into your embrace…

into your hollowed place

your emptied promises and gluttonous lies

let us go there and not come up…

Chaotic.

We never love them,
those flickers of,
Life’s candlelight,
when we get them,
nano-seconds in Love,
in the present tense,
in all its fickleness,
we fail to look deeply,
beyond the warmth,
of such selfishness,
we fail to recognize,
so we sit stupidly,
as nano-seconds,
swim right on by,
like robotic drones,
it is foolishness,
how soon we forget,
our very own,
flesh and bone,
where we came from,
childhood homes,
for we are not,
not a single one,
born to those,
with voices, drowned,
neither did we,
bore the woes,
Of Royalty,
donning the crown,
of the overthrown,
in the halls of the dead,
in the heads of the gone,
we will stand as one,
to the depths,
from the heights,
stars and sun,
days and nights,
like statues set in stone.

Continental Story Books.

She wrote for me,
a book of recipes,
filled page upon page –
with the ingredients I’d need,
and, day after day –
it’s a book I still read;
detailing poisons –
in her own handwriting,
pressed in between –
old weathered binding,
soft leather skin,
full of soul, and divinity;
a handbook,
to guide through,
the dark days ahead –
written in a language,
spoken to and by the dead,
and it should be clear –
why I hold so dear,
the words that I have read;
she drew a picture-book,
and dedicated it me –
filled it with her paintings,
and photos of the beach,
chained it,
with a padlock,
beneath iron lock and key…
and the only person,
on this Earth,
who can open it –
is ME.

Between.

Between the rightful eyes,
between the shaky lines;
Between courses of a meal in an old, echoing hall;
The greatest feasts
had by the greatest beasts,
the finest wines;
Between arms’ length
and violation;
Between the pages of an unread
book in a forgotten drawer;
Dread history lessons repeated;
the tides of liberation.
Between questions,
between answers;
Between the two regrets of
having asked and being told;
The songs, singers,
dances and dancers;
Between the vast and mysterious,
between the frostbitten sheets;
Tangled fabrics tied into knots
from the skins of human beings;
Between the endless, frozen depths
and the bottoms of my feet,
Between the sea and sky,
between the breaths of you and I;
Between debris from the bridges
burned down along the way;
Between the longest of Hellos,
and the short, sweet Goodbye.