I love you
when the day exhausts its grace
when you wear my pious silence
in you nails

I refuse the touch of morning
just to breath your sleep in

you’re my axis mundi on a Wednesday
yeah,  it’s so natural and crazy
I shudder with this feeling
I search for my roots, I find you dreaming

I love you  
when you stir the ***** blues-smitten
the jazz, the blood
I’m your prophecy, you’re my bane
my lips won’t refuse the spell:
love you whenever.
I have died
again.

If I give to you
what you've
given to me.
Then we
would be
millenniums
swallowed
in eternity.

To live forever
is nothing more
than a curse.
and to live forever
without you
would be
so much worse.

The Queen, snowed-in, stopped for
Cigarettes and milk
Then drove another hundred. 
The Governor told her not to. 
I suppose I did too.

But it's two weeks later and 
I'll be ****** if we've heard
From her. 
Passionate about black lines,
And smaller yellow ones,
Metal arches, sweating salt
Since stained rain came,
And big green signs,
With numbered shields. 

She said, before she left, that she felt,
"Like a consequence.
Something that is constantly flaunting
How severe it is. 
A recourse, to a long-forgotten mistake,
That just learns to be dealt with."

Traversing the wasteland of white
Can teach you a thing, or 
Three. Like how you're not ready
To move upwards, if the
Phantom's shovel keeps filling
In your igloo. 

Every time she left,
I wrote myself down. 
Stories about how, when, and who
Should-Be-Growing,
And the day she lost Heyworth's smile.
I changed her name.
Poetic license, and whatnot.

It doesn't take long to 
Realize, picture or
No picture, they'll all
Still say their 1,000 words.
They earned them, when they
Caught you with the flash,
In-between dreamings. 

I don't need to hear from her.
I know what she'll say. 
A scathing remark about my advice,
A bite-back.
"Lay off the smokes. The Greyness may not claim us, 
Flagstaff, but sure as hell, has it made me paler."

I stole away, with an

Angel intent on keeping 

Me company, for my

Last day on earth

She drew my name in the clouds with

Ink she bought from God,

Broke my bed,

Ripped my blankets, and

Sat me down to

Mock my ignorance

Needing a place to sit,

We built a bench, out of

Broken promises

Each knot in the wood

Melted into a bitter syrup, as I

Recommitted it to memory

We drank coffee behind the

Store that sold my

Innocence to those more

Deserving of the 

Luck they’d received.

Their tender was 

Myth and merchandise,

Final sale,

No return.

The torn soles, on the shoes I

Wore, slid softly through the

Field of grinning flowers, their

Beauty rivaled only by their

Obvious ignorance

Fingers wrapped my wrist,

Departure was inevitable

Wings spread, we soared over the

Blue and purple of the 

Flowers, shaded darkly by the 

Sun’s embarrassment

But from miles up, my

Sight, seemingly unchanged by my

Decreasing proximity

Showed me their vigilant smiles

Had she dropped me 

Anywhere else, the

Beautiful field of 

Terminal foliage

Would sway the same, with

Each windy eve

I woke up, drunk on

Sleep and whiskey, as the

Sobering veracity of my

Failure to keep dreaming

Became achingly apparent.

Defeated,
Completely misleaded.
Broken beyond repair.
You made me feel
Fractured which was ******* unfair.
I gave you everything you wanted.
And in return you gave me bruises.
How could you possibly do this.
You just let me fall
You had it all
Now I'm scattered
Lost and
Shattered