Respirate.

Saturday, September 24

HOWL AT THE MOON.

9/24/2011

Mark me like the wolf;

I am your deception.

Dreaming in red and gold,

Waking in hallucinations.

Can I cry for your attention?

Do I lie of my conception?

When the day dies,

I am the one that holds me.

And never again to run.

Monday, May 9

SUMMER GHOSTS.

5/9/11

His back turned to me, I breathe deep

Like a whirlpool of neglect

Beside him, alone

A soft voice sings a lullaby

Promising that all sweet things will come again

And I look for you

This desire to disappear

To fall from grace

I share it too

But no thought forgotten

No gasp, no tear or shiver,

No care will fade.

You and I, forever entwined,

These shackles will not break.

Monday, April 18

HOW DO I MISS YOU? OH, HOW I MISS YOU...

4/18/11

it's strange;

the way that a

single

sense can bring forth a

tidal

wave

of memory.  how the scent

of a musky cologne,

the sight

of a tall, lean figure,

the sound

of the blackbirds in the morning

can remind me of you.  i hear the trains at night

running through my back

yard,

and remember

holding you

in the headlights.

i see the tiny

purple flowers

begin to blossom in the spring,

and think of trailing you

through the woods

on a mid

summer day. 

and walking

through a cold, sterile hallway

reminds me

of those years

when we spoke through

our eyes,

in passing,

whenever chance bespoke it.

  i wonder, even now,

why it digs

at my skin

to think of you.

i wonder why

even now

it tears

at my soul

to think of you.

i wonder why

i still

think of you,

even now.

Sunday, April 10

SUMMER SWIMMING.

4/10/11

Wallowing in my Lavender Dreams

Where Sweet is sick and Bitter’s kind

Like thunder in April, decay in May

And Drowning sings softly into my soul,

Deep, deeper, into the deep Darks of depth

Where I lie in crystallized Blossoms

Of Purple thoughts and serenity.

Saturday, April 2

ELEVEN : TWELVE.

4/2/11

I drove by the old box factory last night.

The lamps were dim and sullen, the windows cracked and broken.

I thought it fitting, our ending, reflected in that lot

Like a warning, an apology, a regret, always aching.

The night was clear and cool,

But the smell of summer hope and part time bliss ran back to me

The way I used to wish you would.

I never knew what to think of you, what to know of your thoughts, or the idea of our future.

I fought for silence in my soul, afraid of losing…

What have I lost?

Those nights of trespassing, the scent of vodka and resin and your cologne,

(And I swear I smelled it last week, back in the studio while I fought to find myself again,)

The anguish and passion I never could distinguish.

And I remembered the look in your eyes while you watched me,

Watching you,

Hiding something,

Wishing something.