a subtle tease
soft red lips
a confident strut
the swaying of hips
an hourglass shape
control she takes
of a crowd but she only chooses one
has every man excited
like the firing of a gun
a husky voice
whispering, tantalizing the ear
the mind wanders in lust
anticipating more to come
the heat in the moment beginning to sear

The Rusted creaking lies,
whispered through putrid crooked teeth,
from underneath his ragged brim.

Time-worn top-hat sits tilted on his bony head,  
yakking jaw, spitting prostulations, intimidations,  
while swirling tattoos filled my eyes and propagandized, and hypnotized.

He is here, he is there,  
on mossy rock, on broken chair,  
floating phantom through foggy air,
to tear into my heart with his dark despair.

His words......his words, I can not trust
they haunt me as the moon.
His chilling breath fowl with death,
my skull becomes my tomb.

And then I hear a distant bell,
it breaks his grip on me.
I run and fall in gentle new snow
and am once again a child.

I close my eyes and drift to our place,  
away from his gaze and grumblings,  
to our mosaic covered Sacristy.

And you take my hand to bring me back.
You, with your Spring scented breath,
kissing away my hoary dreams.  
The bells clang pure as midnight snow,
and I am safe again in your arms.

The sand tickles my ankles
As the breeze blows soft

The sun starts to makes its first peak from the end of the sea

I feel my feet dig into the crumbled bits of rock cooled by the night sky

I look ahead to see miles of endless water

My hair salty and tangled

Home

I'm slipping, sinking.
"I'd be better without her. "
What was I thinking?

Life is so subjective
And original
No two people see the same
World around us
No one will ever understand
The darkness of a whisper
The bright light of my mother
Or the color of her voice
Or the song that plays in my head
Every time I drive by that place
Or why my eyes glance over
Every time I pass her house
Or his
Or hers
No one knows the colors
I see when I close my eyes
Or the fact that certain things
Prevent me from opening them
If life is a riddle
Coated in layers of confusion and dust
How should we ever figure it out?
Because know one knows the meaning
Behind anything we see
Hear
Or taste
Or how each letter and number
Have a different color to me
No one knows why
I chose to write the way I do
Or why I even make art in the first place
I just kind of do
No one will even know
The meaning behind my words
But that's just the beauty of life
I had to learn.