There are many occurrences
that there exist no words for.
They bludgeon and defy describing.  
Wandering, unexplained feelings,.  
and their plaguing dealings with your thoughts.  
They find crevices in my wordless voids.
Where I am still hunted and haunted
by the words unheard.  
Unformed.  
If there is no actual word was the feeling even born.
Things fall deeper than the final depth of the heart.
An explanation is bone barren,  
than my emptiest cartilage caverns.
When a hawk circles, there exist no birds.
It's ok, if when you are raw and exposed
there exist no words.

Even with the departure of a defeated winter.
Spring's backstage feeling very conceited.
Bare branches still bend in their naked contortion.
With blatant desire for lush summer leaves fortune.
The trees whispered their longing
telepathically to the breeze.
The stream was a mysterious gold, green & brown.
Translucent was the elder boulder ground.
The drapes of hemlock need no announcing sound.
Below rock bottom, is a hardly reached equation.
A survival where peace is the eternal sum.
The secret stream will restore your inner gleam.

Her skin was smooth like butter cream.  
Luscious entry to his dream.  
Begging, pleading to be tasted.  
To be pasted,
all over the walls of his thoughts.  
Her heart's city of inhibition crumbles and falls
Her black lined eyes, alive and iridescent with haunting desire.
With a slow ache and burn like torches of fire.  
His breath through the soft dark.
Was a gentle gale into her farthest parts.
His whispers ferociously and sweetly
swarm her heart.
Lips taste like destiny, remembering eternity.

My cells in sweet contortion,  
as your passion infects me with  
magic poison.  
I wish I was boneless,  
so I could twist and fly your body  
all night long.  
I see the shadows of me I hide,  
in the blazing fire of your eyes.  
You plunged into me  
and seized my secrets from  
the tenor of my moans.  
In my deepest spaces,  
my core knows you are a lustful danger.  
My heart betrays my soul,  
offering you endless wild abandon.  
In between the grip
of my quivering canyon.

Do days swallow time?
Or does time swallow the days of our lives?
What memories get digested, while some are excreted?
The past starves to be remembered
after it's long forgotten.
The future hungers to begin,
heightened by the uncertainty.
The rarity of simply coincidence,
is like a blue orchard on the moon.

Her bronze foggy haunted light
was the splendor of a winter night.
Seen through a black lace of branches.
ornamented with the corpse's of berries.
Stirred my heart with the dark side of merry.
The sky was in a utero of magic
behind it's bedazzled dilated moon.
Fetal snowflakes will be born
in the infant hours, of a dead cold dawn.
Come silent storm,
I already am your willing pawn.

Pleasure seems only recognizable
after breeching the membrane of pain.
We were a beautiful catastrophe.
Sun after slashing rain.
Questioned by the sane.
Velvet and volatile.
Looking back at the stretches
of  blackened miles.
At all our infinite tries.
A sunrise and sunset were never destined to occur together.
You are my painful, passionate chance at never......