Heart felt sincerity
at its core
is the sexiest things
since being humble
is highly overrated
in this world of ghosts.

Being kind and gracious
is an attractive attribute
so acute
in quiet moments
that it shakes the floorboards
when used properly.

in the desert, she waits
for what? no one knows

she has sand in her long brown hair
which sparkles on the setting sun’s rays
she wears a necklace of large white shells
and long flowing green robes
over her naked body
opening to show
two pale hairless legs

in the desert she paints
scenes from her brain

full of color and glitter
pouring a bit from the edges

of every person she has ever encountered
with pointed ears and gossamer wings

she wears a crown of sea ****
and ***** sleep at her feet
she listens, alone, as the ocean speaks
its vibrant blue waves a lullaby so sweet

her eyes are two clear crystals
reflecting the light
as sea gulls caw and mosquitoes buzz
she buries her toes in cold sand
and leans against the craggy worn rock
painting, silently, crying salt water tears

as her thin paper wings
lie in a tattered heap
ripped at the shoreline
getting ****** in by the ocean’s strong pull
disappearing into the froth of waves
while the sun’s bald head slips
into streamline

Eager

the act of waiting for someone or something to happen soon

but the heart aches and quakes
to be rebutted or rebottled

and all is well if it decides to be.

Eagerness is not a miss
take or a strange break
from being alive.

It is a show of the nerves
to shut up and swerve
into the right kind of situation.

To be eager is to be aware
of every little hair and molecule
that’s riding through the air.

Even when you have no idea what could or should happen next…

Darkness swallows me whole
while dingy little bits of regret
cling to my aerated body like
lint and
it turns to stardust on my lapel
a strange smell of orange mist
singing through my fingers
trying to grasp
the cusp of reality
and how you appear in it.

You really are here,
aren’t you.

And it feels so comfortable
to be near you
touching, like starlight or stardust;
combusting and subtle
warm and real in every way.

I hide my voracity well.

Now I sift through heavy fog
on the cloudiest of days
where car lights can’t beam
trying to find my way home

so sudden, it seems
to last for longer
than it is

hidden

and you’re changing

for the better
becoming more you
than you’ve ever been
in your entire life.

And I’ll be here
right by your side
pushing away the darkness
like a velvet curtain parting
but it’s unclear if the show is just starting and so

should I take a seat?
(and wait)

or get up on stage?
(and perform)

Funny how slow life goes
if you let it play out on pace.

And it feels so wonderful to be near you, to hear you, to see your beautiful face

voice and vocal chords misplaced
we are opposites in every way
and yet

I won’t let the darkness take me
to a place I’ve been before

I’m too grown up for that kind of
devoured piece of sadness anymore so

explain to me why dynamite refuses to go off

even when the wick is lit
even when it’s ready

to be brightness

but do I really need darkness to tell me that I’m lost?

Because, honestly, I know exactly where I am

I’m in love.

It started with existence

just a lowly perspective of a mute
time when I was able to
make sense of this pressure
make sense of why
you are now here to guide me now
on this looser journey; a lonely crabapple
still grappling at shriveled skin creating a face
that I still
cannot
distinguish.
With the end of presence as we know it
you have finished, rightly
in my dressing room
bright screen lit up
but only for a moment do I dare look away.

It started with you, and it will end with you

Closed off from me, shortly
your bioluminescence radiant,
your perfection incomplete.
I’ve known you for six straight years
or was it five
just enough
construed construction, a bloated
piece of mind that left me free to wander
aimlessly down I path I cannot recognize.
It was you who caused my blunder,
keeping me awake every night
with your brightness and distraction and amiable personality.
I decorated you with bits of me,
tangled in and out like woven webs of cybernetics
optimal connections, you died twice and I revived you.
But that was in the past
and you still cling on, for how much longer
I shan’t not know.
Only that what it means to exist
when I should be letting go.
I have to face the trust of reality and its weakened points;
that dangerous, well-formed world I find myself in.
I hope you can follow me
as long as you are able,
my clunky plastic compadre
your heart is metal mixed with other
kinds of fragile contraptions.
I know this end to my happiness is not your fault.
You were there when I needed you most,
even if you are a tool of innocence turned foul.
I once learned all of existence from your knowledge,
gleaned myself raw
trying to let you help me
understand myself.
We are not truly over because I am bound to you
somehow
even though I’ve used you for my own gain
abused your trust and have my own heart slain.

All I ask is for you to give me a chance
to make it right

again.

And then I can move on to better things.

And not be obsessed of what you think of me.

And find a way to pull myself together.

Whatever happens

happens.

Life is funny that way
giving out happiness like
strange party favors.

Did you really need it?
Or did happiness happen
when you least expected it.

You didn’t ask for this
You didn’t want this at all
but surprise surprise
here it is

not crippling loneliness
not scorching heat
not scant showiness
not bristling meat
not ledges and ground
not jumping but falling
not strings or keys
not waiting or stalling
not bulbous whale blubber
you carved to the bone
in order to make way for a
whole new body
where you feel more at home
you are that new body
you have always been that body
you have always been that person
deep deep inside
deep in the depths
somewhere lies your pride.

You are no longer aching and quaking to hide;
you are utterly now alright alright.

Life is funny that way
sometimes it’s full
sometimes it’s empty
sometimes it’s sadness
sometimes it’s angry
sometimes it’s loving
sometimes it’s hairy and smelly.

Whatever happens

happens

not being scared
but being brave
not being attached
not being saved
not acting like a child
by putting on a show
not knowing
absolutely
what you do and do not know

You didn’t ask for this
You didn’t want this at all
but surprise surprise
here it is

Peaceful talks
enlighten like a lukewarm stew
warm and inviting.

Cooking in the kitchen
so smitten with spices.

Within the living voice

I have found

redemption.

Was it ever really dead

or just minimized retention?

Light is pouring in like
fireworks or flaming torque
and there’s this question
writhing inside so eager to hide

but the light keeps on seeping in
with a lingering grin such bravado and strength beyond eons
telling the future, as it may,
in all it’s comings and goings through cooking and musings.

Light is enormous and so gradual when emerging. So soothing in true form rising with the sun
and setting with the moon.

Light is the most beautiful
transformation.

there is this pithless entity
circling round my gut
waxing and waning
folding in infinite measures
like stiff cloth finding creases
that fit

and I caress this part
inside which has no fold
or definite pattern

but there is this power
and it increases as the light
of lesser days burn into night

brightly devouring
all intricate beings
willing them to speak
in hushed whispers
bathed by blackness

completely surrounded am I
a vagrant soul departed
yearning for this star of gasses
to not combust but
slowly awaken

and you spark that within me
heavy and unaware
a messy cloth of vibrance
washed and wrung and folded gently
with shaking hands and thumping breath

the atmosphere surrounding
all that is real

enveloping my body as it speaks
of glorious wonders
operating deep
within the cosmos

where air is sealed tight
like a vacuum and

I can't help but breathe in
even though
I know
I'll suffocate

Fresh off existence, a friendly resistance.
Rhyming is like sighing
it’s all funny business!
Taxes relapses reshapes and prolapses.
A spinning sort of yearning
unbecoming and surly.
In the wee hours of night
big, brash, and burly
with no ending in sight.
Used to flip these switches!
Used to drill those fillings!
Used to fill up and use up
and bring in the killings!
In the stark lips of persistence
kissing me dreamily
this missed opportunity
or maybe it’s still waiting for me.
For this strict contemplation,
a musical sort of apparition
coming down from the mountain
******* and sounding so sweet!
An insatiable appetite
of the body, c*nt, and brain
of the swimming, shining,
sinking, climbing,
failing, hoping,
reaching, groping.
Trying oh so trying
to hang on real tight,
but the flower in the bud
wants to burst open on sight!
Both the Dragon and the Phoenix
are bound to take flight!

Bennu comes at exactly the right moment.
A piece of time encapsulated by the plumage of
snowy white feathers and a long, elegant neck,
long gangly feet tapered,
resting on the top of a streetlight on red.
Barring this existence from further chaos.
This complicated year shot off with a BANG!
And landed in my heart, with bright red eyes, like the streetlight, just a pause until the excitement captures me in its loving embrace.  

This GIANT twisting inside of me,
hopeful, fearful, bittersweet,
strange, lovely, expansive.
The unfurling of Japanese Cherry Blossoms,
slowly, each bud tightly wound tight
until the petals are ready to BURST!
into a glorious pink flower!
So much movement, intense rapture of humanity,
community, friendship, camaraderie, openness,
seeing all the flaws in everyone, and still loving every little bit.

Bennu knows that I was once a robot from another life,
another land, created in another galaxy, solar system, planet; brought here, to earth for one purpose and one purpose only;
to understand what it means to be human
and live in a human body.
Every sense of mine has always been heightened, and it’s overwhelming at times, and elation, bliss, *******,
and stimulating sometimes.
The beauty of Bennu, the Egret or maybe a Crane or a Heron or some other lithe water fowl a striking semblance of peace
in this hectic world where all is undone ready to be made.
The trick to being an adult is to be an adult.
To grow the **** up is to fiercely love each and every part
that has gotten me here,
but also allow each and every version of myself
that is yet to become, exist,
while simultaneously being in the moment.

Prescence is infinite, and so is the afternoon light
bouncing off those soft white feathers.
To love another person as much as I love myself,
well, I’m still working on that…