Trample.

I can’t help it – that I’m inclined to worship Hope;
it is hardwired into my spirit to either die, or believe;
they’ve always said: that I run the air in my head,
in its purest form – un-buffered and painfully…
which doesn’t always work out so well for me;
as the resigned souls grow affectedly irritated;
by the squinting of eyes against a pinprick of light,
the unknown ahead has already left their minds jaded…
there’s a reason that my heat smolders Hope eternally;
it’s a valid reason that’s simple enough to perceive;
that there was a day – thousands of days before now,
that the ember died out and my spirit ceased to believe…
and it was during my meanderings through darkness;
that I felt the searing pain and end of days for sunshine;
and so goes why every pinprick of shining light at the end,
becomes more meaningful with each new glance of mine…
very rarely does a person truly drink down the nectar;
as it drips like diamonds of dewy wisdom from our trees;
all too often, we lose sight of the teeny pinpricking lights,
and are either trampled by others, or you’re doing the trampling…
and if we aren’t careful, the tunnel blacks out once again;
the light at the end barricaded behind piles of trampled bodies;
it’s a natural response to harbor an unspoken urgency,
when everyone around you is in such a Gods damned hurry.

March to April.

Take me to the ocean’s edge;

bury me there in your kisses,

so darkly lit at the corners,

the smoothness of your mouth…

the snapping linen of windy echoes;

Tell me your most hidden truths;

confide in me your every secret,

so sprinkled by shimmer,

the peach fuzz of my skin…

the slapping palms on my ass cheeks;

Read to me from your Book of Poems;

find me safety beneath the voice,

belonging to my Saline Ghost…

the Guardian of my ears and lungs;

Visit me when I sleep and dream;

teach me such righteous divinities,

by one likened to a premonition…

the breaking of a titanium chain-link;

Promise me that you will stay;

poised at my side like you are now,

so collected to balance my insanity,

the ease by which you forgive…

the ripping up of nails from a coffin’s lid;

Lie to me if it means forever;

bury me beneath what you so choose,

so vulnerable to your many strengths,

attentively absorbing you like a sponge…

the infusion of some good in my life.