The splices of life, cabled webbing -
Had you everything you ever reasonably need,
And before you the ability to facilitate
The creation of artificial imitation
Near indistinguishable from reality,
Would you venture outside the confines
From control to chaos, and knowledge to mystery?
Or would you just enjoy plastic scenery?

So much to say, which means so little;
So little to say, what that means much.
These ends we face, often,
Come on fast and taper out just as such.
What that remains: naught but thought.
Loose and multiplicitous as strands,
Hair of the artist's brush,
Colors as the richest palette -
Bold & bright, deep & dark

the scent of incense
hangs heavy in the air
the constant murmer of voices
comes crashing like waves
but your eyes meet mine
and the faces disappear
the voices die,
all that remains
is an unspoken invitation
from my lips
willing yours to kiss them
and yours happily
meet their request
leaving our love tasting
like oranges
tenderly plucked
from moonlight lips.

i am so tired
but
everything that
exhausts me
keeps me
awake
at night

Benicio loved his mother, but she was deceiving and driven by her bad habits. His mother never acted like one. She never apologized, but told him to get over it. Blamed him when she couldn't fix.
Her eyed lit up when offered a beer mad because her kids would ask her not to drink. she'd do it in spite, thinking it was funny and cute. Now a grandma, Benicio thinks his mom; never wanted to grow up, and held a grudge because of her bad decisions. She saying one thing, but doing another. Never took responsibility, or accountability for her actions.
He didn't expect, or want much from his mom. Benicio would help with his siblings; while his mother continued to be self destructive. Being put in the middle of her arguments between her and his father. A failing couple that went the distance.