mercenary soul

you believe fodder
and garbage
and deadpan.

you eat life upon
exit
as an actor
cloy and off
of stage.

you spit the bones
and shards
of tomorrow's scenes,
on venal thoughts
as a mallet
to the gong.

you drink sorrows
past those lips
like a player,
as a creature
nearest to
it's haunt.

you cast doubt
and dirt
of yesterday's disdain
over walls of conviction
as a cage born
child.

Oh, my mercenary soul!

i believe it still;
Redemption.

threadbare

i
wear
threads
of
patterned
ideation
and
childish
preposition;
warm
hand
stitches
handed
down
worn

the some things that happen

i wan't to wear deep blue
denim overalls like you daddy
big and wide and cool
i want to wear a beard as big like yours
and be big too

some things that happen
like my shadow on the floor
hide my trying to be bigger
like you daddy.
some things that happen
make me cry
like a sore toe
and a big brother

when i'm biggest like you daddy
i'll be bigger than the
some things that happen,
like brothers and toes
and shadows,

won't i daddy?

won't i?

I miss you in my belly button.

-->

You.

You!

You weakwilled sonovabitch!

I remember a few months ago

you licked my ear as I dozed in the backyard

Dosing my veins with your golden shots

promising me…

You promised me!

And I was blinded by you.

Now look.

You pale!

You pretend you don’t know me

After running your fingers through my hairs at the beach.

All my hairs!

Turning wet sand into a crispy crust.

Making me glow until everyone could see we’d been together.

Sure I’d blush.

Yeah, beet red, and everyone knew we’d been…

Rolling in that sand

Running in those waters

Laying out where everyone could see.

Those days, You were the only one who saw

how truly white my ass really was…

And now you hide, like said ass

in a shroud.

But the thing is

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I dreamt of you the other night

But I woke to the wicked darkness you’ve left me in.

Come back soon.

I miss you in my belly button.

Come back Sun.

wait i while

we walk an ancient paths,
being-under spruce and birch and air
and a conversations we cannot
hear

we sleep an ancient dreamings,
of glacier and iceberg and reflection
a substances beneath we will not
feel

we yearn for an ancient languages,
spoken in softly; as spice and song
and a Spirits that we did not
know

Adventurus

Tomorrow's tenure arrives on the back of today, whether we swim or tread. The island is beautiful, yet lies uninhabited. Unplug the wires running forward to eternity, remove thyself from the oaken table. A comfortable cell is still in a jailhouse. Hold fast to chains that lie in your path, pull, pull, and pull. You may find their rusted hooks embedded in your lovely eyes. Some call it focus, dedication, but it’s a winding path leading nowhere. Don’t look so surprised, you saw them when you weren't looking. Weed the garden, uproot the tree if the fruit is strange. Put it down or turn the page. What will you lose? What will you forsake to be free? Inhale the aroma of liberty and press onto the precipice of dreamt mountaintops. Only one thing remains. Hearken to your decision and hasten your movement, for tomorrow steals today as a thief; coming only in the dark with eyes closed. Adventure awaits; lying in the promise of the sun. Don't let it set! It's out there, blooming in the fields of hidden promises. Don't forget you. Don't forget who you are. Forsake the float.

similies for lost boys

"like me," he said shrill,
as the shards of yesterday

baked into a pumpkin pie

leftover from Halloween Jack

seen in the dim light

you left behind with your

face-book-friends and Isabella.

i can't remember the

last time we were this lost,

like the being found 

on the curb

clenching brown bag

white knuckles telling tales
with blood for you and your two faces.

in a heartbeat all their own.

"like them," i replied dull,
as life in a suburban town
faked into minted coins

leftover from pity's politic
so as now to this day;
i cannot reply 

to lost boys.
I have confounded

the word for that love;

like a summer picnic,
in the plaid and rain.

like a weekend revival,
and a tent torn wind.

like a majestic bird of prey,
being struck by a truck at the crossroads.