trapped in loops
reliving the same days
over and over.

the same sights
the same thoughts
the same actions
round and round
we go.

if we get through
today
our dreams will
definitely come true
tomorrow.

Broad shouldered lions
stand over the ocean’s quietude,
roaring thunder in the surf,
thudding sand laden questions
with salt soaked and matted paws.

Surly supplicants beseech the sea,
whose tides answer only to the sun and moon.
A lions home is the African veldt,
so, go home king of hearts…
The seeker leads and the answers follow.

For, what gives the lion his strength,
is the softness of his dreams.

she was leaving
and got the gumption
to see me before she did
so we went to dinner
she sat, crumpled
at the edge of the booth
playing with her silverware
hands sweating
our knees barely touching
underneath the table
they shook like the day we met
they shook like floodgates
when the clouds get upset
her hair was drawn back
into an apology
and she didn't answer
when the waiter asked for drinks
she pans, tilts
looking for the restroom
but doesn't get up
covers her mouth
to hide her furled chin
i cut her a piece of bread
not sparingly
i didn't want to ruin the symbolism
of cutting a gangrenous thing
from ones self
she half wept out "tell me a joke"
i thought to say "look at us."
that's it. that's the joke.
the premise & the punch line
sharing some silence
here in this ominous moment
so thick with goodbye
you could touch it
i said "when they asked what the name was for the wait, i should've said "awkward, party of 2"
but that's not the joke
"knock knock"
she whispered "who's there?"
i sat for a moment and said
"so we've come full circle.. we're even in the same seats, from all those months ago"
her lips quivered
and she hid her mouth
"i just wanted to hear a joke"
she said
i came back with
*"if i fell for you in a quiet restaurant & no one was around to hear it, does the laughter of children i drempt we'd have make a sound?"

I take my time
as time takes me.

Life is wildfire
For roots of the soul.

The flames will
eat the fossils.

The sea cooked
To perfection embodied.

Night's purple marrow,
Is ours to feast,

The meat is for
The shadow of a flower.

I've broken both knees
Building this fortress so

Sleep deep dandelion,
Dreams can't burn you here.

you were fleeting
gone
in an instant
but you left scars
on my heart
and in my head
and I don't think
they'll ever fade

the truth is no one ever taught me how to fix a flat tire or how to ask for help or what love was even good for in the first place

and the truth is that the cookie was good but the lemon icing wasn't and the truth is baking should be done without any kind of lemon at all

and the truth is i wish you'd hold me close enough that our skin fused together and i could burrow into your spine and learn all the things you won't teach me

and the truth is you were never good at making eye contact but i dare you to look at me long enough that i can trace the line that connects your iris to your pupil and count how many shades of black a person can produce

and the truth is i don't know if the grass has fingerprints but i know that yours are cigarette stained and no better at letting go than mine

and the truth is i am a dump site and you are an inhale and i am clockwork and you are a melody and i can't keep my teeth off your eloquence

and the truth is my feet are covered in acrylic paint from leaving smudged footprints in sparkly things

and the truth is i don't want you all to myself but you can pretend i'm yours when i'm engulfed in the ocean and making it hard for you to breathe

and the truth is i'm looking for a different kind of intimacy from you

and maybe it's just some teenage girl talking but the truth is that i want to drown with you. i want to burn with you. i want to scream with you so violently that the body that crushes my lungs crumbles and i become a balloon for real this time

and the truth is, if you hadn't called me beautiful, i would have mistaken last night for a paradise i don't believe in

Cloistered in clumsy love,
Men make boys of their days,
Nights of their eyes,
Blades of their scent.

Cloistered in clumsy love,
Women make girls of their minds,
Rain of their will,
Pens of their hips.

Save us from the terror,
Save us from each other.

I stepped outside in my gloom fuzz,
With black clouds strapped to my back.
I even grimace at children nowadays.

On the path to my mailbox,
Hunched over myself,
Eyes chained to the pavement,
I felt the urge to glare at the sun
And witness as it glared right back.

A sunbeam of empathy,
Drooling light into my bruises,
She slapped me with her
Warm-honey white palm,
And for the first time this year
I'm glad to be alive.

this is who we are:
we are seven billion
lonely souls
wandering this earth
trying to free
ourselves from this
heavy feeling
in our  chests.