Figure on the hill,
the vast and dark;
heinous conqueror
with single, vaulted eye.

That common passing mark
a whitish spear
who often in the morning
passed unheard.

Color in the walls,
the tangent all of space;
and I most meet
and he the thrilling knight.

Braggart of the ears,
where sleepest thou,
an curvature would bite
that runs upon the steely edge of wit?

In this repose, and let no man declaim
that music cannot work the bones of fame.

A yank around the branch for an unripe banana tree

makes for peels at the tears; an aggrandized detainee.

In three proper pieces, breathing spiff in the fog,

split flat on the soil,  in an envelope of slog,

it doesn't really matter because

nobody knows but you.

It only really matters when

the answer is ubiquitous.

A pupil to imbue

labradoritic hues

will disagree to acquiesce

and suffuse bleeding happiness.

We put the dark light in,
turn the stereo on,
we've kicked out all the chairs,
and I'm complimenting the suit Tyler wears.

The summer sun, the breeze,
all your trees,
that stuff is for the bees.

Here it's intensely personal conversations,
with brown-eyed girls we've never seen before.
Here it's slow dancing to early Tom Waits,
and leaving bread crumbs of shameless hints.

The freedom is found
when we under-sleep
and over-drink,
when we fall on the carpet
and laugh because it
shouldn't bring us this delight.

Tyler will make up mixed drinks,
and if he destroys himself tonight,
well, I'll be in the front row,
with a pillow and a joke.

The worried eyes are limits.
An unbridled gravity
keeping everyone down,
and tonight they aren't invited.

Our minds will spiral up,
as our bodies cling to the couch,
we'll talk of old friends and
dying relatives,
we'll swear forgiveness,
and be surprised if the
sun decides to rise,
we only live for the night.

frantic tired
your feelings spiral
like twisted hypnosis
its a sickly psychosis
that you enter head first
such insatiable thirst
and its hard
to stop
and keep going
to drop
life, and its flowing
through your fingers
say good bye
but it lingers
round your mind
like a french inhale
it never leaves your chest
in the shadows you are pale
hollow eyes seeking rest
and its hard
to breath
and keep going
to sleep
when you ache
deep inside your lungs
trying to not break
so you you take
another smoke
light the next one
with your last
trying here and there
to quit the reflux of your past
but its hard
to smile
and keep going
the bile
is rising
choke it back
and find the girl
to save you from this black
true ecstasy is human love
no more shall you lack

The act of observation changes that which is being observed.
When you are not watching me, I am not there.
The others looks for me, but instead find
The inverse of you
An electromagnet, pining for a spark.
Light me up or let me go to waste,
But please don't leave me Uncertain.

ix.

when you were eighteen
and i was fourteen
you handed me a blindfold
teethed with razors
because you say
truth is schizophrenic:
                                                                                 and angels are anemic
and my eyes are sweeter
than pomegranate
but your poison did not stop at
fairytale apples or lazarus
or hellish flowerets,
it re-mastered
left its tar around
your marrows.

iii.

when you were twenty
and i was sixteen
you gave me a Glasgow smile
on my tongue:
                                                                                like the pale harlequin
so i could bleed solace
and sympathetical commiseration
through every word
when ever you needed me

wheil you emitted a rosary
that encircled
clavicles, threading it to a hole you manifested
inside my sternum
because you belived
a heart was not neccessary
if a doll could
love with fingers

*

now you are ten years old
and i am seven years older
you ask me to write a poem
about you and artistry
but i am waiting
for the aestheticist
beside the violet car
with one ear and
debauchery

licking my fingers
and biting off your nails.