These legs have abandoned me.
Two solid sticks, tree trunks grounded in
dirt. I am spoiled goods, good for nothing these limbs
move only when forced apart,
a monotonous machine that melts in your arms.

Disarm. Even the rhetoric inside has
gone to sleep.

If sleep is for the weak then I am not strong. Although
awake, these fingers remain unconscious,
shaky branches the sisters of dead roots,
forgotten by the gardener.

In hibernation for the summer,
wake me when the leaves begin to fall then
plant me again.

Plant me tall,
I want to see the sky.

Plant me small,
so I can lie and watch the scattered stars disperse.

Plant me strong,
so I sleep through the night and **** what they say, because
sleep is never weak.

Plant me, but nothing else.
This time I will water myself.

Bowing down settles our stagnant hearts,
little touch, palm to palm,
turn your face but do not leave.

Fickle world, consumed with history,
lesser truth, no permanence,
let me bathe with unsaid goodbyes.

Rainfall covets the familiar warmth,
I want to be strike by hurt and revival,
handpick the pieces of what you left behind,
return the name we borrowed from above.

By the end of it all,
leaving will settle in our stagnant hearts.

They said 'fake it till you make it',
but till when will this soul fit in?
Until when must it keep on dying?
When will the passion be revived,
so I can feel I'm really living?

Have I been ungrateful?
No--- please don't say such words.
I've been thinking for years
And those years gone by and I'm still coping.

Searching takes too much time
Would it cost me a lifetime?
To see the world I've been wishing for,
To live without poisonous thoughts.

i light the match.
consume what is now my best friend.
the simple burn.
gives way to complicated thoughts.
a chemical conversation.
one that always leads nowhere.
yet everywhere at once.
i exhale slowly.
he slowly follows suit.
he seems to be the only one ever present.
he seems to be the only constant.
and i seem to be turning to him more than ever.

Could I be more empty than what I am, I 'm a room
within so many buildings of what are now vacant with
vagrants of contested thoughts.

Please don't think because my rooms are empty that
there is nothing in there even though it doesn't
look desolate it is full of lingering shadows of thought.

We fill the hollow vastness of non relative meanings
with nothing but essences of what we lumbered on?
My thoughts are of empty consequences nothing less.

Can you see in the deserted realms of a once awoken
mind, now it is hollow as each room of thought became
depleted of anything but unoccupied stagnant thought.

know you see me

semper dreamy

slip-ping on - and - off

in the spacey place

almost convinced , (was it?)

“empire free me ,

soldiers see me   ,

envious armies are after me

because broken me is all they see

i patch my self invisibly --”

so in retreat i lay my self,

an icon to vanity and decay-

soon enough i know the soldiers may

hunt, may find, may trap, may bind

never right - NEVER WRITE ,

always blind

inside my rotten mind ,

(oh it was) it was not -

naught but tongue twists and brain rot

easy enough to force, forget

the pleasantness of title : Pet -

was it, will it, could I  build it ?

it never will -

it never was -

a different thought ,

for beggars sought

to free them from their cups and coins -

to seek release from their ***** -

along the railroad tracks out back

we find the air is acrid, black

and children polish stones for sale

for some enormous, bloated whale

that cracks the whip but bears a treat --

I have Orders I must meet .

A heat that keeps the chest warm, reminds of the days that hurt the most. They leave a feeling of distaste, but a curious cat walk trail has you lost in it all. A care in a world of apathy, the holiest of feelings in an unholy being. You look back on that trail, realizing that the warmth brought the coldest and most stagnant of days, you are frozen in time.