Off like the faucet that drip drip drips in the sink at night, keeping me from my slumber.
Sleep is the only thing I ask for tonight, as I've worn myself out thinking about you.
But you don't just invade my thoughts, you invade my soul, my dreams, and that strange dark place that I call "me."
I lose myself to the dripping of the leaking faucet that'll never turn off, swept away by the presence of the moon and stars.
Although the stars are not the manifestation of my dreams, no not tonight, they are clouded and muddled by fleeting glimpses of you.
Maybe it isn't you; it doesn't look like you, or smell like you.
And then I wake up.

That was not the experience I wanted to have.
These patterns have to break at some point, this road is barren like the forest where I lost myself.
A cloud of feuding emotions hovers over my head.
I don't know where I'm at or where I've been and everything is a distant haze.
Where does consciousness begin?
This question plagues my brain like a virus trying desperately to leech on to my emotions, manipulating them like a puppet master.
I am just a marionette, hanging from strings, the more I thrash the tighter the knots become, choking me back to reality.
Let me go, I pray, let me go.

Hey, what are you doing?
Don’t tell me, though.
I honestly don’t care,
just thought I’d ask,
wearing my Himalayan mask.

Eleven at night on a Tuesday;
arrow pierced my nose,
leaking dusted snot,
head a drowsy mass,
a dizzy, unfathomable knot
beckoning me into a slumber,

yet I feel this tranquil
half-conscious state
as I hear the ever dear
lonesome crowded west,
all the while ******* in
the crust of plate tectonics,
that hypnotic spell
of the devoted neurotic,

and in a few
the lights will finally perish
and my Styrofoam boots
will once again
walk on ice.

Here I go again
Dating the Wind
When It blows west
Times are the best
but when It blows East
Unleashed is the beast
Sovereignty in me
Subdued to the least
by Miscomprehension
and Bipolarist addiction
I’m left with my love
More a state of affliction

Twisting thoughts into tunnels
Bending memories into mimes
It’s been quite a while
Since the last time I rhymed.

It was in this ancient diary
I found from days of old
Where I dreamt about my dreams
Weaving secrets into gold

Here I wrote of the dying sun
And the afterlife of moons
I tried to rhyme starry-eyed stars
With dusty afternoons

Meter keys are rusty now
Free verse scoffs at these lines
Because it’s been quite a while
Since I tried to rhyme a rhyme.

Remember boundless possibility?
The certainty that life would be
A blade of grass, an open field
A panoramic view of destiny

This wanderlust, like sunray dust
Shines through every cursive line
Between college essays and status updates
I lost that old, elusive rhyme.

Has everyone felt what she felt?
Betrayal,
dragging me behind her
with a noose of
guilt.

Has everyone felt what I feel?
has everyone made a mistake?
the dirt under my nails
laughs at me
"no" it says
"you are imperfect,
evil,
different.
Look and see
your blind eyes,
crying brilliant tears.
Your dumb mouth,
kissing fire,
because it makes you happy."

I know it's right,
the dirt under my fingernails,
and i rarely listen.

When I catch myself being overly Human
I pull in the reigns and push the thoughts from my head
But not through the mouth
The mindless blathering about.....
That's how I knew in the first place
I was becoming one of you and
It offers me no comfort.....
Quite the opposite

Someday Girl

Everyday I miss what I never had, that kiss, that feeling of bliss, leaving my head swimming in neverland...
Soft lips speaking the depths of aqua blue eyes… a brilliant smile that could stop traffic for miles.. I’m talking about a woman that’s just wild.. with a personality that could be bottled and sold in vials to melt the hardest hearts into molten piles…

My someday girl…

Walkin in the room with brilliant blond hair flowing.. exuding confidence and not afraid to show it.. pure beauty for sure you know it, when she can’t even be captured by the words of a poet.. I can’t describe my feelings inside I just know it.. someday I’ll be on a roll, meet her, and slow it…
Til then I’m patiently waiting... gasping to keep my lungs inflating… raspin verses til my tongues achin.. but I get frustrated.. cause I even visited churches and the nuns are taken..

Some days I think of giving up hope.. settling for something just to stay afloat.. but I keep waitin it out grasping at a tiny little frayed rope that’ll lead me back to the realization of my greatest hope..

My someday girl…

I hope to someday embrace her slowly… sliding my hand across silky soft skin to hold her closely… the sweet smell of her hair controls me and my heart dances to her pulse as she holds me..
I could spend eternity locked in that embrace.. if I could just find it I’d gladly step into my place.. but I guess life would be too easy if that was the case..  so everyday I tighten my shoes and keep runnin the race… stumbling through dates.. tryin to put numbers with a face… but none of em got the key to put my tumblers in place… so again I wait and I wait…

For my someday girl…

It doesn’t seem fair though, cause along the way I’ve met girls that I’ve longed to date… only to find out that they’re engaged or they’ve found a mate.. it makes me wanna shake my fist at fate..  give up, and roll a spliff to sedate and smoke it down to that last crispy trace.. but through it all I still hold that glimmer of faith.. that my someday girl will come and take her place… so I wait…

and I wait....

For my someday girl…

I sit electrified and bathe in the earthly hum of the mistress mountain..
My hair caressed by the wind and showered from a sunlight fountain..

I fill my lungs slowly with her beauty as I embrace and cherish the scent..
The clouds chase the sun and grin sheepishly with no fear or cares to lament..

This is truly a feeling of freedom in every glorious aspect of the term..
In love with mother nature as I touch her rock hard body and yearn..

the first shovel-full wasn't that bad i thought
the swirling stars above me
tiny silent witnessess
watching me as i lay
just beneath the surface of the earth
the second shovel-full landed on my chest
a slight choking plume of dust
contained in this shallow hole
fills my lungs and steals my breath
the third shovel-full felt so heavy
my struggling sluggish heart
fights to beat in my dirt covered chest
i can taste the soil now -
unmistakably betrayal
lines my lips and coats my tongue
all thanks to that fourth shovel-full
these two determined shovels
erasing the sky from view
one after the other
pile after pile
no longer do i see the stars
no longer can i breathe
no longer do i feel the pain
i am no longer

It has nothing to do with the manipulation,
she said. I don’t mind living under a
Shadow, by a thread, or a loaded gun.
It’s the openness that angers me, you
know, they seize every secret inside
my most intimate idea, and scoff at it.
Even something covert like missing you.

I don't wake up each day and say,
Man, I'm happy to be alive.
Eyes open and brain transitions
its focus from the dreams it just endured
to the new and constant problems
it must pursue. I pour my coffee
and let it cool, while subtly
my mind awakens fresh
thanks to the scents of steaming brew.
I drive to work and more often than not
the cars slow to stare at a cop
with someone pulled over; who cares
about this, I've got enough on my own
to worry 'bout like being late cuz of these fools.
And I'm sitting in my car, got some good tunes
flowing, soothing....
I'm perked up, thank you Folger;
of all the things, you're the one
I'll keep coming back to.
Get me outta that morning funk
I despise so much.
For now I am cool and this life is good.
I might not wake up thinking each day,
Man, I'm happy to be alive.
But thats usually the last thought
when I'm hitting the pillow.

Your trailing starlight woven with silver needles
Enters the mundane life of human days;
And magical tongue recounts miracles uncounted,
In magnitudes of unexpected ways.

Your vision never balks at walls or ceilings;
An artist's heart is not like other things,
The words like hope in slowly burning censors
Take to the sky, once given freedom's wings.