there's a picture of sunflowers, my favorite

by far. one 

leans apart from the bunch, rests

it's head on the wooden fence.

in my mind's eye, 

a visible sigh in it's face

it's posture affects --

and though time accelerates, 

there is still gold in the lines of my face,

some days    the light catches

and warmth Ihold in my pockets

for days like today, I drizzle it on my tongue. 

&my insides are wrapped in dusty glow

from eons before

I began to wilt

“Sometimes I can feel my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.” -- Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

for as much as I want to be wanted

, I want more
your cradling arms, your
pushagainst, small brush in passing
that sends a warmth crawling    up      my neck

as much as I am young & new
and pink and yellow just as bright as
a daisy! sometimes

I long, too
for the softness of longevity
like wind on my cheek, you

are almost all light, sometimes, I never
expected--

somedays, I'm sure the hue of your skin is
all filter, and I am just romanticizing,
as always

but the red in your beard is all the harshness in the world, sometimes.
and the sound of your laughter fills my head, echoes as if this small room
were an abandoned cathedral and

your voice
the first prayer heard in a hundred years.

At times, I forget to utilize my patience.
And it costs much more than a passing moment of my discomfort.
It costs peace and amiability in relationships. It can sometimes cost entire relationships.

I have to deal. I am learning how to deal.

Blue Eye by Jacob Lange

I have love for you
Rooted in my jawbone

Your secret perfume
Convection heat in a back seat

I want your thin fingers
Tangled in the web of my ribs

I want to lose you
In the honeycombed purple layers of my heart tissue

I will cradle your head on my sternum
Letting my lungs do the work

If only 
Your elbows were not so sharp

Then I would crave the dig of your fingernails
Your pastures of hair
The butterfly tremble of your lips

Speechless- words no longer hold the weight
My tongue on the novel curves of your sigh
Tasting the twenty summers of your growth

Trembling due to lack of oxygen
Trembling at the onset of lust

The kneading want of knuckle bones 
Drawing me ever closer to the colors of light 

Static in the stereo of the 
Cerebral cortex 

Bunched nerves 
Shocked into submission 
By your bleached bone canines


Open and breathe 
The quick pinch endocrine valves 
Releasing steam 


Drape me with your skin
Wrap me up in your pulsing warm veins

I bleed blue 
On every day of the week 

I am deafened
By the rage of your heartbeat 

I am stricken dumb 
The symphony of your eyelids
Swelling in my chest a familiar lust

The wind from your eyelashes 
Could blow us out of this winter 
And right into spring 

All the days of the year
I bleed blue

The dedication of your palm 
On my cheek
Warms me like a leaf in sunlight

Peel me layer from layer
You will find no lies in between the pages

I am your machine
Waiting to be properly lubricated
I cannot wait for our first day under the sun
I can't wait to get you out of the fluorescent lights
Of the Assembly line 
We will journey together to forgotten realms
And sleep beneath the strange constellations


---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is one of those things that will always make me cry. 

I think I'd like apprentice a successful sociopath.

I caught myself thinking,

'I hope you died in the bathroom' 

when you didn't come back for a few extra minutes. 

peace, come

I can't blame anyone for not looking after myself 

and I can't look after everyone else. 

You're difficult to romanticize, I think 

that's a good thing. You're difficult to 

filter, to soften, add a couple 'meaningful' words and 

I don't know (mostly because I don't know any

thing   ) if that's a good 

something for me or 

if it's a spinning top and    what if 

 

I fall  ? 

B -

I hope you wear red tomorrow. Soon, at least. 

I'm starting to yearn for your fire. 

As I was leaving this morning --

"And..what did I do to deserve you?"

like to think I have a little moon
behind my lips, that you
could reach in & pluck

and in your eyes, reflecting.
the rare bit of light that slips through
the blankets we cover the windows
with

I never know whether to look away
or to let them fade  
in slow-   motion

Driving, I scan the sleepy city for a diner I’ve never been to. The radio seems to sing, “better versions of you are being born right now.”

Eddy Habib

Born in a singular quantity, I have been divided ever since.

"Some old people are young, and some young people are old. It's all in the roll of the dice."

Aug 31st 2013

always walking sideways        can you imagine? 
living sideways, living with your head tilted in wonder 

living

fake posture like posterboard, folding in on oneself
communicate by bits of conversation, the scraps left like little diamonds
scattering the floor - pick one up, you might strike it rich (!)

follow nothing but what there is in front of you, do not look left 
do not look right. shake your body like a leaf and let that feeling roll off in beads, 
turn green in the morning sunlight, let it feed you.

open your eyes, deep breaths like the wind in a cave. 

find your fingers fascinating as they curl and uncurl themselves, 
you are alive! you are so pink, so yellow, so dark and light and beautiful 
and strange that it can stupefy the senses at times.

weird how so many people can feel the same feeling and feel all 
alone in it. funny, even. hilarious that we all have one another to lean on and yet 
we stand erect as if we were man-made instead of tiny pieces of the universe, tiny pieces of 
energy and dust held together by our own collective will. 

it's funny how we don't realize how beautiful we are.

:3

"You unreadable cat creature, you."

it's such a *feeling

*reaching to hold my hand when we
cross the
street.

Harlem by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up

      like a raisin in the sun?

      Or fester like a sore—

      And then run?

      Does it stink like rotten meat?

      Or crust and sugar over—

      like a syrupy sweet?

      Maybe it just sags

      like a heavy load.

      Or does it explode?

"Are you mad at me or something?"
"Nah, I'm just not a big fan in general."