I dreamt last
night of a long
lost friend
which was strange
because I hadn't been
drinking
and this friend
talked me out
of suicide
even though I wasn't
considering it
and I almost reached
out to her
when I woke up
but that would
be worse than
suicide

I made it again.


What do I win?


A number,         plus one.


Another trip 'round the sun.

I dream of* lovers
who fascinate me to no end,
veering the course of their affection
from something they understand exists,
to something they fear to understand

I dream of hearts
yearning for their better halves,
as they seep deeper into the chasms
that engulf their intimacy within

I dream of sinners
who wish to speak of sin;
rather the innocence of deviance
and its naiveté when it comes
to matters of the heart

I dream of writers
who bleed from their pens
as they wholeheartedly express their emotions
and aspire to quell the heartache
that they endure every day

I dream of innovators
who wish to present upon their peers
the next invention selected
to represent the advent of a better tomorrow

I dream of tears.
I dream of tears....

Why? What sorcery forces one
to shed so many
that they leak past
the prisms of known consciousness
and into the peaceful slumber
that comforts aching minds?

I apologize.

Now you know of the dread, sorrow,
and sheer wonder that comes
when I dream of earthly elements
begging for peace.

I dream because I am a coward.
I apologize for *dreaming.

Morning rinses,
bleak as night’s wishes.
Mirror stares, a returning glance,
empty and a portrayal of trance.
Running wet hands through a face
which then becomes faces out of place.
Fabrication of dried skin, weakened,
by morning rinses, a beg to look thin.

It is the one thing that keeps the mind
distracted by  the tangled brain saying nevermind.
Skin glistening, memories, enchanting like they’re
misery struggling to know, just where?
Where do these ideas come from?
Surely, nothing exists in a mind so dumb.
Possessed by the walls,
struggling to hear the morning bird calls;

Morning rinses.
Morning rinses,
of the face so purely lacking anything,
or is it just telling you something?
The worlds of regret are finally drowning,
but you are not the one who is allowing.
No, you are just the observer,
and this morning will last forever.

And so, after years of tax and toil
I return my body to the earth
My shell to nourish the darkened soil
I’ve loved and lived upon since birth
 
I believe I am both matter and spirit
Not just dust returning to dust
There’s a deep music that, when you hear it
Awakens you to th’ eternal ******
 
Like husk of seed, is decomposed
To let the plant unfurl, renewed
Like seed to plant is juxtaposed
My ghost, from flesh becomes unglued

he walked
from station
to station
his heart in a paper bag
holding it out
asking for spare change
because it doesn't matter
when the heart's not beating
all clogged and weighed
down by quarters
and half-cent platitudes
that it'll all get better in time
and that everything happens for a reason
and there is nothing to worry about

and all the kid really needed
was a little blood

Go slow;
There wasn't snow on this road forty minutes ago.
The factory's closed on account of inclement weather,
and the wind blows as if it's got a grudge against the trees for standing together.

I get home and go back to sleep to dream of sandy beaches and palm fronds waving in a warm breeze,
beckoning me to return.

Somewhere,
between one and a dozen,
was infinity.
Peaceful,
identical to empty energy
engulfed by
a haze of elation.
No frustration.

Take me, pills.
You walked in and saw
a corpse with a smile
plastered on its face.
You touched me.
You ******* *******.
Emptiness dies like
joy when reality
falls on your face.

I felt nothing at all.
Just the infinity
of death.
But,
you touched me.
Enough had happened already.
But,
you touched me.
I chose to be away from you.
But,
you touched me.

Memory has gone in a haze.
Just the look of horror,
on your face,
when you
were the one
who dealt with the guilt.
The guilt of putting me back
in my place.

Take me, pills.
Take her, too.
She touched me.
One of three,
none will know just what it is
like,
to forcibly remove the pain.