Will not make you feel better about your hate
Your certified misspelled life that echoes solitude
Your craving for purpose
but still clinging to your virtual reasoning

This poem will not clot your wounds
neither be your salvation in your agony
or your hope in your fading conviction

This poem is not for the faint hearted
Or obtuse sluggish thoughts
the ones with trifling victories of life
that are swept away inevitably

This poem is nothing but a speck of your lives
it'll not suffice your haplessness
Or your pitiful endeavors

This poem will not reborn your hope
Whether it was written by Born
Or not

Lay me down
      in those fields  
         of silken flowers
        where the buzzing
        over our heads
       whirls us into
   lightspun holy
my dress a metaphor
for loneliness
as you lift it off
and let it disintegrate
into the evening's
electric ether
your lips
    undoing the tight
       leather laces
        that have held my
     heart in place
until now
Now.
undo them
   in unfurled totality
let my feminine essence
drip, in non-verbal words
onto your fingers
let my elements
   light you up
    from within
firebrand sunset
in molten metallic sheen
indigo lip of ocean
melding into crackling
            hiss of earth
               and humming
                   under this
                dark rich loam
              tiny vibrating buds
     sprout from fossils
trilobites become
hazy with new moss
seething insects
lay eggs and spawn
feeling the bloodpulse,
that simmer of surface
in slick magnet energy
Curled stems of wild
poppies and zinnia
tie down my wrists
snake around my thighs
clasp my
tender-***** ankles
as if to open me
up even more
than I thought
            my soul
                   could go
and I do not resist
for soon they will
accompany you
as you decorate my
deepest womb
              with blossoms          
filling me with your
soul's seed
your musk-scented fervor
nestled, subaqueous
into the root of
my sweet
       deep
of  
  need

I took a shower tonight.
But I didn't wash my hair
Or my body or my face
Or even my toes.
I took a shower tonight.
And although the water was as hot as it can go
I stepped in and my whole body froze
From my hair
To my body to my face
To my toes.
I took a shower tonight.
And I just sat on the shower floor
I put my face in my knees
Let the billion clear little razors
Roll down my back
And down the drain.
I didn't cry.
I didn't break down.
I took a shower tonight.
And I just sat on the ground
And I sat in the shower.
Till the hot water turned cold.
Three hours of sitting
of mini razor blades rolling gently down my back
And in just a moment.
I'll get in my bed.
And I'll lay.
For about six to seven hours.
Until seven am
And then I'll put on my eyeliner
And be on my way.

Limitless sorrow defines my self
if that is my choice
I cannot tell.

Within this fear I will always dwell
if that is a shame
it's just as well.

I've defined my sorrow
with a series of clever, worn-out platitudes.
Something about those obscure synonyms
always made me feel unique --
like there was something inside of me
worth staying alive to find.
Something worthwhile
in some corner of my mind.

STICKING ONE'S HEAD OUT OF THE UNIVERSE

See, here's me
just being this

bundle of
I am's

maybe 6...maybe 7
stuck halfways

between this Now and
a Past I used to be

as if I could cut
myself out of

time and space
( **** the continuum )

like the woodcut I cut out
where some astrologer fellow

crawls forward and
sticks his head out into

the universe
his hand reaching for the stars.

I used to carry it
in my left hand back pocket

later on when I would be nine
but not now.

That nine year old boy will
take it out and just look and look at it.

Until it would fade into nothingness
a ma of lines and creases.

Right now I am back when
my age is at 6's and 7's

the sudden rain of
that particular day

rain falling on
sun warm stones.

I could see myself
in one so

I decided to steal it
from the world.

Put it in my pocket
'cos I wanted to possess it

as it had possessed me.

The summers it had known.
The winters it had passed.
The history of its weathers.


I pocketed also
that yesterday rain

( it is forever falling )

drag it into this
Here and Now.

"Words...!" I beg
"...help me please!"

And the words haul it all
from that There to this Here.

Stealing a stone.
Stealing a past.

Sunrainstone
of that moment

stealing my senses
fooling time

allowing this 60 year old child
to somehow survive

so that he can
be it

all over again
a forever first time.

Take my word
for it.

i would like to spend
the remainder of my days
floating
alone in outer space

past the edge of the universe
where not even starlight could reach me
and I would float in the blackness
without sight or sound or heat
forever

no gravity to press down on my
shattered body
free from the dull ache
of titanium plates and screws
relief to cartilage ripped to shreds

but most importantly
i would be far too far away
for anyone to ask me
if i was okay
or if i needed help

I question everything I
Did that day.

I go back over everything I
Said to anyone else.

I return to all the insecurities
And worries that I've had so long.

Before I sleep I start to wonder
Do I even know
Who I am?