I stitched each of them on to me, knitted
It tight on my flesh. I bleed for a moment
But it was just another etched on my flesh.

Each perforation was another that joined my flesh,
Entwined on my soul I made their hair in to fine
Cotton and each was given a place upon my being.

"Eye,
      "Neddle,
                    "Backstitch­,
                                     "Scissor,
                                                   "Seam,

A honour of their offering was felt as I seeped on
Their twine. Pain was a lust that was sort but
Never harvested and my culling was full.

Flesh was just moment of time aging ever moment
Decaying since birth. Their hair lived longer than
What was but food for thought now no more.

My limbs like a puppet on stings, but I am their keeper
Of life on me, in me they live on. I stich their memory
So many colours do  I weave on to myself.

Blonde,
             Brown,
                         Chestnut,
                                     Ginger

But the ones that are lucky that never grace my being,
They are those of least crowns on their scalp.
I am one of such no hair on myself. But weaves I
Sculpt upon myself, they live on even though bodies rest.


I have many stitches on my flesh of weavings not my own,
But their essence will always be here as long as I live on.
Seeing those moments which will be etched on myself,
I will weave all into the picture etched on my skin.

*"A stitch in time ebbs your existence your soul to mine,

We entertain the idea that it is but a moment of
joyful bliss,
But did you share that sting?
              Was it too much for a whisper of kaleidoscope
                                                    ­                     pleasures.....
There is but one ending to this eclipse of the senses.
                              "Either,
You float on the butterflies of enthral bliss,
                    Or when that needle penetrates
Its like a  bullet to the brain....


                          There is only silence and stillness
and blood lubricates the nasal.
     They say an overdose is like a bullet to the brain
                    but one only some are revived from....

Do you wish to play roulette to see which shot
                                                         ends your life.

Time is irrelevant when we are together, if i could put a stop on time i would. so i could charish the moment of her sweet and tastefull smile. what i do today will affect my life tomorrow,so if i love her throughout the next life/' even though she loves me, do i truly love her back? if i did, would i be holding back. she wants to have me but will she accept the whole package. i dont know how to tell her because watching her face crenge will feel like a neddle periceing through me. if i love her she loves me then why have i not told anyone. why have i been holding back from someone i am sharing my heart with. i have kept this a secrect because i love this girl, she makes me feel like nothing matters when i am with her, when she smiles. its enough to keep my heart filled with blood. when she is sad i feel my aertry getting clogged, gasping for another breath. this girls means the universe to me, if i loose her for careless mistakes i have made in the past i believe i will never feel the same way about loveing another human being on this earth other than my family. there is not a day or a second i think about telling her what might be wrong with me. when i do tell her, should i tell the truth? when i do tell her, should i hold her hands, when i do tell her. will she accept me for the person i am today. i think about this everday i see or talk or reminese on the time we have spent toghter. if i tell her will she leave me? i have this hunting me as if i have a bounty on my head for all the money in the world. i dont know what to do or when to do it, but i know one thing. if i truly love her, i will tell her everything about me and see how we change as a whole, because we are a team untill the end.

Jazzato if 3

where not and why not to be
to have been the war in love
an exposed lie, canceling less goodbye
while i own the pain, sprinkles of ashes
ashes of body, work and artistry

the goddess does not to betray
her witness
her anklets
he adorns
in challenge, relent

and god's dying apologies
beside her decay

a thousand decrepit reasons
to chase the noxious sunshines
filling window with less seasons
perhaps i write to fight forward, and you need no help
perhaps i would rather be silent, yet an objectified life dies
while they dance
and tonight my empty finds another inkling to print with



feral tea
suppose day left you the raise
gliding forever
a dove, within, a third plight
your time, spending
outside of that table
leaned against your cold
your coldest spots you sold

in your corner i declare

suppose mourns built behind
introverted instruction
to difficult to overcome
we shift in limits

in my corner i dared

mixtures inside sounds
scripts letting fly

now i walk myself
more marching, more violations
railroad maps and pain

to thee i am west
heading south, fleeing north
missing the east?



Mangled Time
Datura(belladonna perhaps in another form)

Matures the galaxy in jealousy despising love

Releasing jasmines death twisting Aphrodite's heads upon loves rewinding failures

Creation in question

Call from my mouth your kindness

Respond silence

Squander obnoxious craft

Illness requires me

And again

I disappear your vapors



In French Jazz Hell
A pursuit of persecution
Print and Ink
Outlawed
They Danced
Conviction
Far Out Trials of Wars
At the Living Dance
A Symbol
A Sign
I'm Delicacy

The Paper
Teach the Disgusting hate
Thinnest piece on plate
Add droplet of fruit
Suspended milk
Offer color
Yawning ***
Nimble your crawl out


Anklets? 1 & 2
Expound with me away, neddle workings?
Millers bones having cost the hillside a settlement with favors
What begging next of spinsters cities?
Stranded virgins sweeping the house of glassened slippers to ward the evil fortune away at late crawling nights.
Embers heavy feet atop the nearest twinkling friend, boyhood dangers
Seeking coldened shapes alone
And in paintings glance
Barren mountain tops cried into tiny wastelands where always smells threw us back


scene depitction
at return the girls are thwarted
beneath the ice-glassen floors as slaves
they are penitent awaiting reason

deplorable mercy, you will enjoy the house?
Beneath hazle tree I did ponder little spigots  
Absence one eve, contemplations I'd borrow
Haggling the court

Expound with me away, neddle workings?
Millers bones having cost the hillside a settlement with favors
What begging next of spinsters cities?
Stranded virgins sweeping the house of glassened slippers to ward the evil fortune away at late crawling nights.
Embers heavy feet atop the nearest twinkling friend, boyhood dangers
Seeking coldened shapes alone
And in paintings glance
Barren mountain tops cried into tiny wastelands where always smells threw us back


scene depitction
at return the girls are thwarted
beneath the ice-glassen floors as slaves
they are penitent awaiting reason

deplorable mercy, you will enjoy the house?