A thousand kisses touch my lips and flit away
Melancholic butterflies seeking nectar from other empty flowers
Delectable ambrosia? Perhaps —
But leaving the tongue fleetingly
Donating only bitter aftertaste.
No recollection comes to mind with ease
— I think I left cold beds with unturned sheets —
Most satisfied to bear the preface “tease.”
Mechanics are too easy to repeat:
I could write a manual; pen all the intricacies of
falsified intimacy.
Flirtation and coy downward gazes
— Pegs in a game I’ve mastered —
Then when confessions come of great desire
I bite my tongue so as not to repeat “I know.”
I use the piles of hearts to step upon my pedestal
Watching with disinterest as the numbers rise.
My captives swear so many hollow oaths
— and all I’ve heard before —
Uninformed adoration turns to white noise.

- June 07 2014.

Like continents moving the skin off from over me , slowly..
deliberately           with great force on the rest of my being ,
each aspect of myself emerges anew
from the cocoon like first layer of childhood ,

i see myself spiral from the snakeskin left on the floor

a forge is in it’s place

of molten liquid energy running along my meridians.
Serenading every judgement of another character with love shine ,
fresh from the gardens of mine
       that bathe
by the sea air
in my root chakra layer... mingles ,
with the heart echo arrow
i send it with.  

Known; that the judgements of others are a side product of judgement of self.
Be it , through the eyes of a hopeful parent or a tired teacher , a pig or a nit.... an angel or specter himself -
None equal as true, to the eyes i see through
on the matter my being is composed of.

Integrating stillness in my vivacious bones , conscious movements flow , stabilizing the unknown into the known , materializing the un-materialized subconscious realm.

Moving through visible reality shifts and mind rifts , exploring

the astral world around me
whilst moving through physical boundaries of borders
Developing organs in my subtle body .

Manifesting my foundations for stamina.
What a joy it is to live from the heart.

what was it that the wind said?
what was it that the wind said when it
ran itself through your hair and
pressed its face against yours;
a foreground to the watercoloured sunset?

was it the poetry whispered by
lovestruck boys and girls
who kissed, forbidden,
in the clearings of enchanted forests?

or was it the hissing of embers
setting eachother's souls alight
in an **** of crackling fire wood?

was it the ***** chiming amongst
divine silence; only broken by
the tears of joy in a stained glass cathedral,
as she walked towards you in her wedding gown?

or was it the morning rain
as you woke up to an empty bed
with the lingering scent
she left the night before?

You fell in love with me.

I just hope you jumped.
Not slipped.