She was made up of earth and poetry
a silk garden of flames
that bloomed flowers of soft lust
the sun had adorned her skin
with small kisses that stained her face
with stars shaped like freckles
and the moon wove its magic
from the colors of her eyes
she was goddess and muse and woman
and all the things that made life feel beautiful
her blood ran with the indigo rivers
along the mountains of eternities horizon
and she hypnotized with slow poison
from the drunken haze of midnight ***
and her velvet lips could mend the broken
and raise the dead with just a dream of a kiss
and she only had to show the skin of her neck
to make fools out of mortal men
who let prayers of sin seep from their hardened
and wanting desire to know who she was
under her jeans and shirts and nakedness
when she unfolded and dripped and moaned
and took and gave and offered and devoured
from light morning kisses and drowsy eyes
to bending over the kitchen sink
with just enough skin exposed
to plow and grunt through the day
and fall into frenzied sheets
of ***** deeds under the moon
and exposed secrets of lost pleasures
only known by those that have swallowed
the fires of sin and the blood of honey
and in the aftertaste she lingered
with a hint of her earth and poetry

I keep my inner poet
Put away.
She is dangerous.
Doesn't understand her own power.
She thinks she can fly
And she'll make you believe
That you can, too.
But her wings are paper thin.
Too fragile for flight.

Her eyes shine too much
When the poetry is flowing.
I've seen the devastation
That can follow in her wake.

Grown men don't believe
In poetry.
Get lured in by siren songs.
Feel cheated
when the music ends.

I keep her put away
And hold my gaze on my hands
In the dirt.

We are safer that way.

bustling and hustling
foot cramps and comforting
the rest of them, they've got things to say
they're in pain
I'm straining my brick wall back
bending over backwards and picking up slack
ears and empathy being filled up
problems of people I don't ******* know
in and out, after digested through bile
I'm quiet and smile, I've got nothing to show
but it's dark here in the real
can't trust the new
fresh and crispy and glaring teeth
what's on their mind is on mine too
machine minds puncturing plastic grips and tags
add ribs or structure for fake ******* velvet
all these false prophets and gossips, I need a helmet
rip off the gutter gaurds, it doesn't do ****
we're swimming in the gutter already
feeling that spinal shudder, loving your sin
and I kind of want in
but who has the time for opening
my feelings aren't really functioning
but I feel you
I wanna grab hold of my boldness
I feel like reading me is like hieroglyphics
crytpic and frustrating as **** unless you ******* get it
but that takes time
and a comfort that doesn't exist as mine
I need to reclaim the wonders of my grime
I've got a soreness all over me like a walking bruise
putting out doesn't get misused
unless you're putting in
the ******* work
and sure
you could read it differently
but where this is even going is a mystery too
nothing really here for you to sink your teeth into
I want a life filter like a bruise
dreamy blues and purple hues
feeling like **** fits the vibes
everyone around me seems to have a tribe
and I'm wandering and lost, which is okay, I know it
those in the shadows don't need to be told to find the light
because light exists on at least one side even still
it's about a balance and a will
this **** isn't real

knee-deep in forest,
a wellspring of
multi-colored liquid
joy, bubbling
in frothy
peaks
my inner eye open wide
at the sacred wonder
of it all
glory of divine
earth water fire
wind in my soul
sunlit scarlet on
leafveins in this
garden feast of the senses
If heaven were imprinted
upon the runes of my body
a soulmind, shimmering
crystals in heart
then this
is it
nothing less
than spirit
coursing through blood
in untamed rush
a wild creek
teeming with freshness
and trout
deer peeping in shyness
and I am all
      lit up from within
as the hues of life
run through me
pulsing energy
filling me up
in deepest
strokes
of
air,
of trees
of mountain
here
even the stars
seem to call out
my name
and, in ever-depth
in focus of heartwave,
I listen