Colorless, a weighted haze
Your eyes are blanketed
Your touch is callous
Skinny fingers with thick beaded rings
Ugly jewels to hide the obscene

Torn up jeans
with safety pins down broken seams
A familiar pair of shoes
Whose laces fray
But you are too afraid to lose

Chipped nail polish
Chapped and broken skin
Snowing from your lips
Through the little hairs on your chin

Dancing and skiing
Past mountains
Of upturned acne
And downturned dimples

Is there somewhere that exists
a gigantic tome of words?
A place my thoughts are saved
roosting spots for little birds

For thought can fly and words can live
tethered to each other
I want to know if they survive
once read by my brothers

Are they simply laid aside
when they are read and done
or do they live on forever
warmed by an eternal sun?

A repository built with love
a place where they can rest
Are the great ones left alone
to take their place among the best?

It’s you if you would see yourself,

    on the days when the sun sets early

Its you if love was easier to eat

    and food, to pass

I’d say it's you if I had the words

    or could transcribe the notes

If you could click your heels

    to sow your wild oats

Its you if you prayed to god

    trusting he will like your world

The roads go one way, like closed questions, I just moved from London, if I drop you here is that ok, I'm weary enough to dismiss directions, no fear in scarcity, too full cut to be afraid.

Nocturnal, not how it should be. No talons, or visions, or sound rebounding against my
tantrums, no keyring on the spare key i keep losing, just like the first one, just the same.

You wouldn’t hold me, how embarrassing for me, of course you were right, still I was painfully
lonely, and so fucking tired.

I thought the word was marvelous
and so, I wrote it down
Then I looked to see
and the word was really miraculous
Now, what do I do?
I just change the word I thought was marvelous
to make it miraculous
and send it right off to you.

Now, before I send it this time
I will check to make quite sure
that it really is miraculous
and not marvelous
so, I can change it before I do

Miraculous marvels,
A state of mind,
A state of being,
A state of thought.

Miraculous marvel made by one,
Through actions of good conscience,
Meeting up with luck,
Creating a powerful combination.

Fate has also dealt its hand,
As miraculous marvels are only so often,
That they make one appreciate such things,
As they are not ordinary nor commonplace.

The green tree, the one in the backyard
With the durable trunk,
and the legs that kick towards the moon
Green, lovely and heaven blessed curves
Succulent and unforgiving

Oh, the round beetroot sides of her
Oh, the sensitive shivering purr
My green tree, my lovely green tree
I always long for the green tree

Petty fights erupt on the film skin
of our tiny spinning rocky ball,
The hate invective screamed into
an envelope of clinging air so thin
it can’t be heard
above the limit of the wind
at all

The wide-eyed malicious evil grin
of those who love to make others crawl
in the slow dance of benighted war
while just beyond the planet’s spin
bright peace of mind
waits for the solar wind unwind
of all

I’m learning to live with what I can get to
Not strangled by the things I don’t
The things I didn’t do today
They can’t own me anymore
Escrow for tomorrow’s fun
Or become children of never
Oh, to love both like my own

Despair