bodies for my shrapnel
lay limp on the street
like dogs in the summer time.
i will bring my storm to you.
have faith in my punch,
believe it.

but don’t you trust
a survivor.
they wouldnt know
how to leave a city in wake.
they wouldnt know not to
pull the knife out.

i am a hurricane with skin
and i will
rip your house in half
if i have time to catch a glimpse.

you can pack your bags
and flee but
i dont stay gone.
i live on forever,
i dont die easy.
the toll will raise.

My face,
Sitting above
A collision of worlds

One, heartless, cold and empty of love
Waiting until the knife can plunge
Deep into an enemy's soul

Another, sad, full of depression
Wondering when it all
Will end

Yet another, sits on the water's edge
Playing with the waves
But stuck on a cloud

The next, with a sword at hand
Charging through the enemy's land
Ambition coursing through its veins

One is sitting on a throne of glass
Fantasy running free
Imagination the king and queen

There is still more, smaller lives
They lead me, day to day
As they sit below
A poker face
Where
Happiness
Plays pretend

i hope to one day
find love so strong
that i see the streets
as pavement. and not
the spaces around
my shoes.

id love to tell you
all about the mountains,
but the truth is
i dont care.
not yet anyway.
a mountain is just
something else
i cant enjoy on my own.

leave a knife
in your thigh and
try to write about
anything else.

until real love
hits me like a hook
to the nose
ill live in hopes quicksand.
sinking with a smile.

i pick, wash, slice
the orange and
    lift a slice towards
my
                         lips

chewing on the
flesh that is sweet
with great ambition
and pulp, taking
my mind to
hot summer
                            days

then my teeth
sinks into the
harsh reality
that inhabits
the
                    rind

                                      ­         fibrous strands hang in my teeth-
         so annoying-      
so frustrating-
so bitter-                  

slipping  down to my innards
down              
down                  
  down                          
    
                                             my fingers are                    together
                                 ­                         sticking    
                           ­                                 

          
but i won't be
disheartened
for i hold the
slice and squeeze
              and
      after
a      
time              
my tongue is        
kissed by

                           the last                of juice
                            drops
                         ­     the best                 of juice

the                of knowledge that I ingest with
drops                                                      
                                                                                           age