We
have all
glimpsed
the Utopia;
yet we
cannot
agree
as to
how to
translate it
into and through
this
physical
Reality,

so,
what is it
that we should
disagree?

Human Nature
is contradictory
Human Nature
is hypocrisy
Human Nature
is a gift and a curse;
use it
or be used;

Create
thy own Heaven,
lest ye be enveloped
by
thy own Hell.

The youth are scratching up their throats
with paper & tobacco smokes.

Pinpricking holes in the fleshy, lonely parts
of their abandoned souls.

Rolling nature into little papers and trying
to slow the pleasure.

Drowning their sorrows in sickly sweets borrowed
from their parents' liquor cabinets.

Candy pills and paper squares dissolving,
highlighting the bright, evolving.

We came of age, we trade in our dreams for smoke, bottles, powder, needles, hallucinations, vibrations and green.

We saw others crumble, dead or alive, it spit all of us out eventually.

For those who lived, it's sad to see our fallen brethren as we walk towards adult mediocrity.

My mind is occupied by you --
    you're always there, awaiting the dark nighttime to stir.
Flashes of your smile appear behind my eyes when they close.
Visions of your eyes haunt my thoughts.
Memories of your voice, reading your poems aloud...

I can't seem to focus anymore.
All I can ever think about is you.

    You've become quite the distraction.

But hey, who's complaining?

good morning*
i screamed to the burning sky
put your drifting fingers in my trembling body
let me *******
and turn me flushed and red like the morning clouds.

because i want something passionate to touch me
and your bare body with scratches of cherry jam
all across it
like the insides of a sweet and sour homemade pie,
steam drifting off its browned lips,
are all i have in mind

i want to walk naked in the cold,
with my ******* like pebbles rising from the
bitter slap of early spring,
legs bearing small braille letters
goosebumps in my golden flesh,
fearless.

are you blind?
i want you to read me with your body.

because i am so much more than this
earthly thing of flapping paper skin,
and bending silverware bones.
so please tear into me like a drill
digging into earth to ****** handfuls of gold
and find
my soul
because it's been waiting,
and i am far from patient.

i put daffodils in my messy hair,
and rub my calloused palms which have
embedded within them the scent of burnt tobacco
like old couches, and charcoal scattered blankets,
and then i pretend that each day doesn't push the sunrise
even farther behind.

if you
call yourself cruel,
just imagine
how horrible it would be
when i tear your
jaws out
with my
teeth

i don't even know my own father's birthdate,
and sometimes i still think about
boys who never touched me
with fingers
instead he caressed me
with dark,
star painted
tall trees.

that life is behind me
and if this one is a temporary one,
then i'm not sure which one i'm really living.
is that why reality seems so
fragile?

i lose everything.
i take naps on winding roads
above mountains
and i even lose my dreams.

sometimes in the shower i pull
violently on
my face,
seeing if i'm real enough,
assuming that it will crumble in my hands
turn into a brown puddle
and drip down the drain.

my mouth feels dry and i
feel aching
where my shoulder meets my arm
and my clavicle is nothing but a stick
covered with a
man of flesh;
my body is making love
and layered upon one another in a
fiery bed of red.

the odd thing,
is i want to smoke
and sleep
and lose some things in my memory.