Dear Dire Need

this time, I really wasn't ready.
my thoughts swarmed over with curious fireflies
blinking discovery and revelation.

I traveled, against inner want.
should I not be with my brethren?
how they worry me so, each their own inner turmoil.
so for what, have I journeyed,
idle time spent in habitual play?

to resume the role as slave to the sloppy?
to subject myself to the degradation
of self-righteous perceptions of reliability, responsibility
to hear, once more, why I cannot belong?

when I have an instinctual feel for silent desperation
from those who
begin, and end, build, and complete me
how is it I have walked away?

beyond all doubt,
I came
of course
for him.

I have no other tasks at hand these next few months,
and I do desire to be immersed in his warmth.
yet I am too far to comfort them.
and other options for replacing modern rituals
are about to explode and drastically alter my scenery...
which I will run, full tilt, to pounce upon.

as much as I would enjoy
extending my pleasant stagnation, here,
my resolve seems this time
to be final.

I wish only to revel in fireflies
(they spawn so rapidly in the atmosphere of home.)

for what is life, but a series of moments.
what are moments, but a series of thoughts.
and thoughts, so driven by emotion.

these emotions, stemming
as most say, from the heart...

and my heart beat echoes elsewhere.

Final Relaxation

an eternity within a split second
of guided meditation

I was infinite
lain naturally,
naked in the atmosphere
softly settling upon a junction
of all existence

sinking gently into soft sand
a mane of golden locks entwined in tall grass
one palm soaking the energy of the sun
the other resting upon rich soil
knees settled to one side
spine twisted in a spiral
feet submerged in cool water
waves bathing my legs
lapping at my thighs

completely enveloped in the calm,
the image blurring and sharpening
in tune to the soothing rhythm
of the outer body's breath

become, for a moment,
the intangible presence beneath my physical body
gazing down, dreamily,
from above

as I witness myself, below,
writhing, and smiling,

and perfect

eyes closed

shining clarity
throughout the mist shielding me from reality
I awoke from this trance with only one thought

I am this.

and now, after my footfalls on snow
my footprints drowned in a steady stream of other beings
each as human as I
after studying the sensation of winter's chill
the answer
the revelation
this
continues to elude me

yet as I feel something deeper is satisfied
fulfilled in a way I could neither imagine,
nor understand,

for this moment, at least,
there is nothing else.

Excess

ignorance to awareness is a one way street.
too late to detach
like old times.

God damn,
how the tables have turned.
and how very ironic that
self-control
should be my weakness.


the clutches
of dreaded love
on a gluttonous heart
too full, too fast
the opposite of broken.
saturated, and swelling
bittersweet rhythmic aching.

rapidly building pressure
in an already tight chest cavity.

feet firmly planted
on instability
(inconsistent priorities.)
ragged breath from constricted lungs
(fluctuating atmospheres.)
coughing the black tar
of poisonous passion
(from the excruciatingly painful mind of a poet.)

I wish there were platelets
to clot emotion.
not even rain can quench this wilted flower.

Parc Jeanne Mance

we daydream of dinosaurs
a time before the evolution of grass
we ponder the extents of earth's history
while lain in nightfall's gathering moisture
in this moment where stars should be
(more than struggling blisters in our peripheral)
you, me, and David Suzuki
(instead of ancient reptilian tyrants)
your upturned face bathed in streetlight
caught in the spirals on your forehead
the rugged and savage scruff on your chin
and the gentle furrow of your brow
"your peripheral vision..."
the back of your head pressed into the earth
dark curls pierced by a thousand green swords
"is stronger at night..."
hands folded softly on your chest
you lay, one leg crooked
revealing a pyramid in shadow
"so focus must be elsewhere..."
I was on my side, holding my head up with my hand
fingers entwined in strands of gold
one corner of my lips curled in a silent smile
"to kill the city, and see the stars."

slowly, you turned your head
your eyes sank into shadow
highlighted by stray rays from distant lamps
and you captured my breath
rendered me motionless
and locked me in time
"I wonder..."
eyes gazing inches from eyes
together, we dimmed the city lights
"how many beasts have copulated on this spot..."
but forgot to admire the stars.

Approaching September the Four (Late Post)

a refusal to submit
(I refuse the submissive stance)
to wild eyes and worry.
I am here
in flesh and glory
approaching a day of undeniable reverence
a landmark through existence's terrain
I am here.

Rip, Patch, Paste (Plate Tectonic Impression)

I gaze in confused wonder, as
I have no sense of modern style
I hear a million breathing bodies pass beneath my balcony
they epitomize the very image I have a lack of taste buds to percept
is this really my world?
how am I here, a separate circulatory system,
in this city in constant celebration
I am soberly negligent beyond an addict's absentmindedness
yet I will never accept forgiveness

no wonder I have relaxed into certain obscurity
and the mere thought of affiliation commences an anxious shudder
I am merely an insignificant wire sending electric currents along
in society's engine
filling in the holes and gaps
a good functioning member of modern civilization...
just not the most stylish, or
acceptably motivated.

what tragedies and treasures this city holds captive to its streets.
what loathing within it's lovers...
what love within it's loathed.
my steps fall on the same concrete slabs, stumble on the same stones,
the same pollutants stain my lungs... our lungs.
I know not what lingers and plagues their (un)perplexed minds,
I only know my own lethargic literature, escaping thick and sluggish,
a weight that flutters and hovers like a hummingbird,
yet sinks into the bedrock, impressed upon tectonic plates
awaiting the earth to quake...
my calm foundation to break, and
release the molten magic of soulful expression
through dead letters, row on row
in the graveyard of language.

Burning Planets

how do I say
all I swore I'd never utter

as the cavern overflows
we surrender
and freefall

through universes full of shining stars
and spinning suns
and burning planets
lit through eyes of desire
spun with lightheaded laughter
and set aflame with our hot breath

I succumb
and sever the last thread
of mental resistance

allowing us to sink
into the milky way
of our minds
and stroke the flesh
of faraway realms
yet to be manipulated
into the logic of time and space.

this
is spreading the art
of animals.

Portentous

all too often
what I imagine
will materialize.

it is dangerous
when such a curious girl
dares to dream drastically
and mentally toys with matters
made of glass.

so often seen as perplexed
running scenarios through her head
she can only softly smile,
and say, with a chuckle,
how daft
such delusions.

only to lift her head
and watch with wide eyes
as the entire reverie
plays out
with an alarming amount
of attention to detail

am I a prophetess
visualizing
holy moments to come
or am I the author
creating the storyline
prior to actualization?

and what control does one
really have
when destiny is determined
merely by fancy
with no regard
to how irrational
and fleeting
such intangible thoughts may be?

how dangerous
to play
with fantasy.

by the time you question the impossibilities...
it has already begun.

Not Only Will I Bleed

there is no angrier despair
no self loathing more exhaustive
no other introspection so heartrending

than that of a premenstrual woman
falling prey to her hormones
as her body rages war on her vehemence
for not getting pregnant
again
this month.


every 28 days
to the fucking day
my self confidence is shattered
and my tolerance is completely shot.
for roughly six days
I am on a hypersensitive rollercoaster through emotion.
constructive criticisms that are normally appreciated
become fatal blows.
I nearly cry over the empty coffee can.
and any members of the male species that dare gaze in my direction..?

my body says to my head, WHY AREN'T YOU REPRODUCING!
and my head snaps their way
to glare with the desperate piercing eyes of a starving jaguar
that would rather risk
the extinction of her species
and devour
her mate
instead of procreate.

(men are lucky I don't have fangs.)

Met You Prior

lately
I have discovered
how many of my recent encounters
with friends of old, and new
have been within my sleep.

I find myself debating
what has
and has not
occurred.

so ever I awander
betwixt these plains of conscious thought
and this alternate version of life
fulfilled with transcendent stimulation
yet starved
for human atmosphere and conversation.

if I had met you prior
in a dream
would I still have found you
while awake?

Dissipativity

my room
it smells
of you

how you've lingered in the air.
you
have come
and you
have gone

and I am stuck in yesterday.
(too tired to go on.)


your lips spoke certain words
but a different story was shining
in your eyes.

and with our last embrace
the future flashed
and flickered
and faded
with your tail lights.
(fireworks style.)

how sweet of you
to catch
the final
kiss.

Safe nor Reasonable

sometimes my words convey
far too much
than is safe or reasonable.

there are so many verses
that just
never make the final cut.


my words are too visceral
too intimate
too rich
like the dark chocolate cake
beneath a thick layer of frosting
that looks delectable
but ends up being hard to swallow.

Clandestine

the leaves rustle forebodingly
from the presence beneath this tree
as we stand
sin-filled blood red apple gripped
tightly in your sanguine hand

you stare as if caught in a witch's trance
a prisoner of desire as I make my advance
constraints forsaken
lascivious temptation from an angel
more mistress than maiden

I dance into your ravishing arms
the breeze and the branches mock my charms
and swaying hips
awaiting the press of verboten opulence
to trespassing lips

using avoidance tactics for cupid's darts
we're playing catch with beating hearts
yours of the purest gold
something I have never before encountered
in my erratic world

caught and captivated, the predator roars
sent messages in bottles to faraway shores
and awaited reply
distracted with daydreams of virtuous patience
presuming a lie

now my piercing eyes and your genuine smile
deviously whispering before we stand up on trial
hear the serpent's hiss
besieged by this atmosphere similar of Eden
this forbidden bliss

For the Love of Exaggerated Gore

We made love while the guns fired. While the world exploded around us. Your hands were rough, and abrasive on my smooth skin. My nails dug into you and the blood flowed like Niagara Falls. Fistfuls of hair, and the red silhouette of handprints. The moaning became indistinguishable from the cries of pain that surrounded us.
We made love through the knife slaughters. While jugular arteries were slashed. I kept my hands on your throat with enough pressure to be certain you felt them there. You thrust with enough force to be certain you hit soft tissue. Moist sweat, and teeth marks. Absorbed into the process of creating life while surrounded by the process of taking life.
We made love during the amputations. While limb joints were torn clear from their sockets. I provoked you until you pinned me down. You pinned me down until I imploded on a plain of aggressive instinct. Burning muscles, and heaving chests. With violent force and a final gasping breath, we collapsed into a heap of organs and bodily fluids.
And then, as reality caved in through the orgasmic haze, I realized...
in ecstacy, I had killed them all.

Fidget

to long for
and feel the depth
to dine upon a corpse

to smile
and hold your breath
to deliver without a goal

to stare
and neglect your sight
to wander within a dream

to reach for
and sever heads
to burn and suture silent pleas

Transcendence

if words could wrap in comfort, and your voice hold snug my head
if I could hear your body, and breathe everything you've said

if your thoughts could be inhaled, and interpreted as scent
our flesh could be unspoken, unveiling all we truly meant.

O'er the City

how sordid
and relentless
this hurricane has been gathering force for years
and is soon to crash upon the distant shore
with a vengeance
and a silent laugh

the sun pours out from behind toxic purple clouds
slowly fading to a filthy blue-gray
I am engulfed in a landscape of stainless steel
and concrete stairways

I sigh through my ascent to the fourteenth floor
an attitude as sterile as the rooms
this view from the top shows the chemical haze
that hovers over this city like impeding death

there are mountains in the distance
that shine a healthy gray
a natural formation we have yet to deconstruct
one of the last standing landmarks that represents an old world order

and as I hesitate from my duties to share a moment with the mountain
we gaze soulfully into each others weary eyes
with the same daydream of Hades
opening a cavern below to swallow this Hell in its entirety
bringing this wasteland and its rulers back from whence they came,
and where they belong;
in the Underworld.

leaving nothing but myself and the mountain
with reciprocated respect.

Empathy and Old Friends

thought is heavy
so often hangs my head
I bow under a weight I cannot possibly conceive.
the external world is only a minute portion
of my perception
of my existence.
conversation is the only way to alleviate the forces that collide within my abstract reality.
to converse is to break the temporary dam that has captured my ocean of idea.
to understand, and to be understood
is my sole purpose for living.
we are much alike, you and I.
I and him.
you and her.
us and them.
your struggle remains internally captive
ruled with an iron fist by your solid self control
that which took me years to discover
years of raging externally, and destroying internally.
years of denying, rejecting, refusing.
years of indulging, imploding, eroding.
I respect your competent reign over existence
you rule your universe with dignity
while remaining indifferent to complacent conditioning.
you realize
yet you compromise.
I hope within
you have achieved
the ultimate equilibrium.

A Beautiful Day Dawns

Independence is...
not having help, even if you might need it.
Freedom is...
a city full of complete strangers.
Intrigue is...
remaining mysteriously anonymous.
Peace is...
relaxing into obscurity.
Loneliness is...
one of the only emotions I've never really felt.

Train Home

a whirlwind of mixed emotions,
I am.
questioning the severity of reactions,
from them.
and here we are, and here we are
wrapped up in this,
caught up in us.
and here we are, and here we are
rising with the dawn,
falling with the dusk.

Kindred

sometimes
it takes months
to achieve
one carefree night.

but that single night
will inevitably change
the course of your relationship
for the rest of your life.

it only takes a few hours
within that night
and the wet concrete you've been dumping for months
solidifies into forever.

the company of a few fabulous ladies
is well worth the second hand smoke.

I enjoy their heads cause they're much like mine
and all the pictures of smiling faces
have become the landmarks that begin
this crew's sail through existence.

Drifter

let go
and drift on

there need be no complications
preventing
conversation

I cannot help
how I delve into discussion
and plummet
always
to the depths
dragging with me
the listener
until they can no longer stand
the pressure of my thoughts
until I smother them
with idea
and drown them
in description

perhaps a mere moment
present in my mind
would send them into
anaphylactic shock
almost immediately

my blood
are my
constants

the rest
chosen companions
in conversational crimes

as history has shown
destiny
for me
has ordered up
a life of random occurrences

every day
I catch new eyes
share moments with strangers
through silence
and smiles

so...

I let go.
shove my hands in my pockets
and drift.

Epilogue

Throughout the seasons, these ancient hills and forests have witnessed endless cycles of humankind. From the infant to the child, the child to the parent, the parent to the elder, and the elder to the deceased. And though, relatively speaking, I am still only the child, despite my youth I have witnessed quite a celebration of life.

How wondrous, this day of all days. How beautiful my niece's eyes, how charming my nephew's smile. Through our tears and sorrow, we could all grin as baby Braydon practiced his awkward beginner's crawl, and laugh when he accidentally face-planted on Daddy's shoe. We could all glow with purity and joy as we looked upon the fresh smiling face of Elizabeth, and feel such pride at the strength of an instinctual family tie as the cousins could not tear their eyes from each other.

Mom was so strong, kept herself so composed. In turn, we each approached the casket where lay our beloved Gran. Macho pride thrown aside, brothers embraced sisters, and together, we all cried in mourning.

Mom was the youngest daughter, as am I, and we shared a moment beside dear Gran. My mind raced forward through time, and suddenly I was in her shoes, looking down upon the still face of my own mother. How fast our feet will eat up the years and bring me to that very moment. I told Mom I love her, as those days will be upon us far too soon. Too soon will this youngest daughter be hovering above the one who gave her life yet no longer lives.
And then my mind leaped further ahead in time, until it was I in the casket. Until it was my own offspring that made up this congregation with flowers, tissues, and tears.

Such are the seasons of humankind. We age, and move forward, act by act, through our theatrical performance entitled Existence. There can be no greater sense of this than in the scene where your mother holds her grandchildren at the funeral wake of your own grandmother. Watching this parent complete the slow emergence into elder, the real weight of all these years sets down upon your shoulders as an abundance, as well as a shortage, of life.

Although it was only a private viewing, I saw a number of faces I did not recognize shed their own tears of grief for dear Gran. She was truly loved by many throughout her life, and inspired more love even while nearing the end of her life. I am relieved she no longer suffers, yet I can't help but think about all of her stories that are now lost, and the fragments of them that I will cherish forever in my memory. As much as I already treasure conversation, her passing has only consolidated that, and has me vowing to never turn a deaf ear to anyone who has anything to say.

My most adored sister brought Gran a feather from Joey, her old cockatiel, and placed it beneath her hands in the casket. Mom had to laugh at such a gesture, and my sister and I giggled along through our tears. Sis tore apart her room to find it, and Mom said Gran would appreciate it, we all knew how she loved her birds.
I remember drawing and colouring a picture of Joey, how long I worked on it, and how proud I was. Gran sent it to her relatives in England with her letter so they could see what he looked like, and wanted me to draw her another one. I remember becoming so frustrated because my second picture wasn't nearly as good as the first. Even at that younger age, I was still the perfectionist I am today. Gran kept the picture on the fridge until the day she moved out of the apartment a few years ago.
I'll never forget the day Joey laid an egg, and Gran's shock that he was actually a she. Joey used to wander around on the table while we ate, and shared Gran's tea. She always had to give her shit for trying to drink it while it was too hot. I remember Gran's sandwiches, and how no other sandwich in the world would taste as good, no matter what. To this day, I have never tasted a better sandwich.

Gran was kind and wise, and it was very rare that you would ever hear her complain. But above all, she was strong. Gran was completely self sufficient up until her late eighties, and survived so much in her last few years that others wouldn't. She was a young woman during the war years when she met my grandfather, who passed away while I was still an infant. In her lifetime she bore three children, two daughters and a son, and witnessed the birth of seven grandchildren, as well as becoming a great-grandmother eight times. I carry her first name beside my own, and my niece wears Gran's last name as her first, which she proudly proclaimed to the ladies at the wake.

Although she is no longer with us in this physical world, Gran will live on eternally, not only in our hearts, but forever through our DNA. My mother carries Gran's unbelievable willpower and resilience, and I like to think each of us children inherited some of her strength as well. Her passing is a reminder of each our own inevitable fate, because although these thoughts often float around inside my head, only through dealing with death do they ever really hit home.
But moreso, Gran's passing is a regrouping of family. Throughout her life, it was her family that gave her the motivation and the will to go on through hard times. To each other, we are the rainbows after the dark storm clouds. To us, she is the sunlight that gives birth to the beauty of the rainbows.

Condolences aside, it's time to think perspective.

April, the 7.

These are the times we cannot let ourselves regret, even though it's all we may feel.
Let us cry, and surrender to sorrow. Let us grieve, for we have indeed lost. But let us also rejoice in everything she was. Let us smile for she was beautiful. Let us stand tall for she was wise. And let us laugh, for she would not have us love her only through our tears. Let us mourn through embrace, because as much as we all miss her, we should not let her passing divide us, but instead bring us together. We will all eventually be life lost, so let us take this chance to cherish each other in memory of our beloved.
Love is the strongest force, so let our love for her shine through our love for each other.
She is beyond our reach, so we must pray.
Pray, that she is truly at rest.
Pray, to whomever you feel comfortable.
Pray, and perhaps she will feel us.

Resilience

its scary to think
her strength
should ever be lost

terrifying to believe
her willpower
can cease with her heartbeat

through these battles
she has remained bedridden
yet victorious

repeatedly we have prepared ourselves
talking softly through phonelines
relaying the updates

she is strong-willed beyond humankind
yet such strength is soon only to be witnessed
in my beloved mother's grim smile

we are a solid structure of support
closely connected despite distance
each taking their turn to grieve aloud

and I, the family author,
fall the farthest into silence
struggling to even type

after all that has come into play today
I have become numb
with only one selfish revelation

I do hope I meet a man as sincerely devoted as my father.
through his eccentricities and his stubborn nature
he really would give his life
to cushion my mother's fall.
may I, too, be one day blessed
with the comfort of such
unconditional love.

Hazardous

am I toxic to the touch
do I poison with my words

am I the scorpion
with a gracefully poised tail
crawling to kill

am I the cobra
with hidden fangs full of venom
laying in wait

or am I merely human
with virulent potential
to taint
the flesh and the faith

I am the potency of psilocybin
the breathtaking chimera
the paralyzing sensation
I am the crux
of your head trip.

Swollen Eyes, Black Coffee, Blind Melon

I wonder how the sun looked
as it rose beside your plane
I set my alarm for early
so I could lay awake at take off
a sighing mixture
of grief and gratitude.

it's so easy to shut the door
but so difficult
to lock it.

A thousand things I should have said.

Recognition

how easily we bleed
how fast the life in us
flickers
sighs
and diminishes.

in an instant
an isolated moment
can rip us
and will rip us
away for good.

its astonishing how many of us concentrate on complaint
finding time to critically tear apart the world
but never giving a thought to our own inevitable demise
never respecting the incredible beating heart
and never seizing opportunities of altered perception.

I try to capture moments in my memory
perhaps I'm building a collage for my epilogue
I smile fuller, because one of us has to take the plunge first.
I laugh longer, because I know we'll never, ever know.

and I love, with every ounce of my conscious being,
my energy, my grace, and my passion,
because there are too many glowing souls
who hide their beauty beneath black robes.
too many brilliant brains yet to discover
and intellectually saturate.

I'm striving to bare myself to the beloved ones
so maybe they too will feel the exhiliration of mutual admiration
and the intensity of an omnipotent connection.

I've always had the impulse
now I'm working on the guts.

Translucency

today I woke up haunted
disbelief
and disrepair

trying to grasp the nature of this cerebral asphyxiation
there exists no straight line to guide me
and nothing physical enough to inundate my brain

the dream side again
has warped my conscious eye
and these hallucinations appear
so vivid
and so tangible

I don't know how to define
or describe
this kind of confusion

the vortex I'm getting sucked into
is spinning inadequacies
and twisting intentions

the analytical mind
is no closer to the truth
than the oblivious
and I'm too preoccupied
too absorbed
into that which I can only feel
for my rational head to help at all

it'd be so perfect to disappear.
it's time to dissolve
and drift away.

As the Eyes Soften

I need to forgive them
for what they are

as I have forgiven myself
for what I was.

Wrought

trying so desperately to let go
I've discovered the duct tape sealing my hands together
trying now to reason with myself
I've realized just how
delusional
I really am.

Midnight Marvels

I keep becoming so concerned
with the subplot
and the trivial

I am noticing less and less
the pinprick aggravations
of modern life

I've become the grin of girlish delight
deep-bellied laughter
and twirling in circles

tonight I found perfection in my flaws
captivation with the weather
and comfort in the cold

I was the serene center of the universe
as the winds raged around me
I was pacing, but peaceful

the impulsive being that I am
fell victim to the call of the ice patch
in the shadows

the world tonight was melting and dripping
the wind pushed me along
so I ran with it

the slide longer and faster than anticipated
right into a puddle of slush
I got a soaker

yet still enlightened and invigorated
I laughed and tempted fate
for another several slides.

Standing, Staring

it's hard to pass gleaming eyes
that feast upon your swaying form
to hear the sharp intake of breath
and keep walking through the slow exhale
with a steady stride to ignore
the magnetism of pheromones
it's hard to keep your acknowledgement invisible
not to pause when they part their lips
don't even glance back
to see them standing
staring

but it's all so simple
when your motivation is entirely theoretical
and each step further just broadens the mural
grows sweeter the juices
inspires more detail within the story
to enlighten the face
stuck in your head.

Yesterday Morning

what is it about my waking mind
how does it differ with the drag of the day

I eat the silent mornings
fight rationality

how futile.

perhaps one could call this
'sentimentality'
or perhaps
'instinctual softening'

however.

to learn, and to love.
respect for both the living and the dead,
never either or.



reality hasn't felt quite real
my dreams are a more complete story
I find them more reasonable
than the world outside of my head

but is it 'healthy'
in any sense of the word
to be figuring
only
in fairytales?



sometimes I wish I could marry the books I fall in love with
but its for the best that I can't
for there would be endless infidelities.

Frivolous

The end of my days will be lived out on a beach. Laying in the surf beneath the immaculate blanket of flickering fireflies. Wrapped in the thick humidity of the immense heat that emanates from the ocean depths. The night being far from silent as life continues to hum and buzz in the jungle behind and splash in the water before. The ebb and sway of the tide not only exists to breach the land water border, but also to continuously sweep this old poet's soul out to sea. My toes are burried in the sand, but my head is skimming the water's surface like a skipping stone.

A thousand trails of footprints in the sands of my memory, mine, and his.
I'll remember the early days, how we made up our own mating ritual. We covered the whole island with erotic hieroglyphics, cavemen depictions of love upon every rock face within every cave. We ran with the freedom of nymphs, leaving minimalistic poetry and clues to our whereabouts scattered throughout the jungle, written with sticks and decorated with flower petals. Articles of clothing set the path to our cabana on the cliff, and with every step closer our hearts fed the flame in our hips...

A billion trails of footprints in the sands of my memory, mine, his, and a smaller set resembling our own.
I'll remember the first time we brought our darling here. The eyes that glittered as they took in the lush scenery of this secluded unkempt world, the squeal that was emitted as we stepped down onto the dock, and the laughter we shared while witnessing the innocent look of pure wonder on our infant's face, was worth more than the entire ocean, or even the sun itself. Endless seasons spent on the shore, serenely observing from abroad the natural cycle of the myriad species of both land and sea, as they grow and create and diminish. And then to watch our own baby's first steady steps, first bee sting, first love letters...

The ocean breeze playing ever so gently with my hair, and I remember you wished you could touch me as lightly as it does. The crash of the waves so soothing, lulling me into tranquil slumber, and I swear I can hear the echoes of children's laughter...

Then my last blissful breath will exhale my energy, I will dissipate and drift out beyond the horizon to leave my lifeless body upon the shore. My final gift given to mother nature, to let her decide with the tide whether to push my form further upon her beach or drag it down into her depths.

How silly I must seem,
dreaming of my future self dreaming about the past.

Acquiescence

whence hast gone thy nerve
to mollify that which sears within
for whom
doest thou
renounce thyself?

the answer is clear
though the language
is not.

Ink and Paper

Confidence drives me, and prevents my perfectionist mind from succumbing to despair. Yet this day is lined with enough discouragement to completely blow all four tires on my driving force. It's all I can do to take this in stride. Am I aiming too high or striving too low? Is it a case of overconfidence or underestimation? And with my steadfast belief in constructive criticism, I refuse to lay the blame anywhere but on myself. Out of sheer admiration and the utmost respect, I absolutely will not take the route of my peers and pose war on the members of faculty. Perhaps their haughty course of action is the main factor in my reluctance to bring forth my own debatable situation, but regardless, I've become incredibly disappointed with myself.

My reason tells me I should not take it so much to heart, but I truly am my own worst critic, and although I realize that all too often I take my denunciation to the extreme, I still haven't figured out how to curtail it. I am far too sensitive to the remarks of those I look up to, and even if the downgraded outcome of my effort was unjustifiable and still remains so, I continue to take it internally. My head aches of incompetence. The excitement of ten days has been suffocated by the foreboding uncertainty of my potential for the next four years. Do I continue to pursue an extensive education when I'll be running on faith alone? Perhaps it would be in my best interest to bail out completely and follow an easier path to a more unfulfilled life that I am positive I can achieve.

I should slap myself for sinking that shamefully low. My introspection can be so merciless sometimes. What I really need is to take this injury as fuel and reignite my determination. Paint over this fucking face of failure and step forward to prove I am worth so much more than what they've ascertained.

And through these words I have won. I have rehabilitated my momentarily lost ambition. Another self-reliance test passed as I brought myself back from the brink of insecurity and self-doubt. I am proud that I can confide in myself and persevere without relying on reassurance from another. This is proof I am solitarily stable.

All I need is ink and paper.

Satiety

sometimes when we're really hungry
we only feed our heads
and forget to feed our hearts

I haven't been exactly sure
what it is I'm running from
I only feel the heat of the chase

my most adored sister, Led Zeppelin, and I
we led the focus down forgotten back roads
ceaselessly conversing, grimly smiling
shedding light on the dark corners
in which we both metaphorically cower
then
arm in arm, we stepped from the shadows
out into the moonlit winter
and with soft laughter we walked
leaving the world ablaze behind us
the black ashes from our souls
smothering the glare from the past

while the path before us glitters

I am capable
I will conquer the world of knowledge
I just need to decide
which castle to take first

but as predicted inevitable
I seek only to fill my head
while my heart pounds in my chest
a raging reminder
of how hungry I really am.

I, always

I am the strength of chain-linked fence. I am the resolve of algebra. I am the ringing in a sound-proofed room. I am the ambition in not good enough. I am the face of a genetic line of lovers. I am innately animal. I am the danger of soaking up too much sun. I am the immunity to invading disease. I am the product of an emphatic environment. I am the distance to Andromeda. I am the amorphous passage of time. I am the transcendent soul felt through the flesh. I am the continuance of touch in a gaze. I am the insatiable thirst for stimulation. I am the mask that veils the explicit. I am the surrender of imagination ceaselessly to wonder.
I am.

Into Hollow Words

on the path to realization
we all analyze
and over analyze
until we have complicated the simple
to the point of no return

its all for the exhiliration
of watching the complex crystalize
into tangible thought

and although its quite the temptation
to map out the fine lines and creases
that make up the microscopic gorges
of our most superficial skin

we would soon tire of the tracing
and wish to revert our knowledge
back to unchartered wonder

at some point
we're all guilty
of reading too much

Splatter

echoes of my imagination
I wish they would bounce into oblivion

I'm beginning to regret the release
REWIND
I spoke too much

dreams
ideas
poetry
so much safer within
the confines of my skull

my head has been racing
accelerating with every passing moment
I was pure genius

just to suddenly slam on the breaks

they will have fun
scraping the remains of my brain
off of the windshield.

I'll Be Damned

so often I find myself rereading
repeating and repeating
slogans for life etched onto every surface of the brain
engraved permanently like epitaphs on a tombstone
forever withstanding the tests of environment
weathering without total disintegration
of the original emotion

I feel far too much like I'm straining
stretching myself further than my arms reach
yet wrapped in this blanket I have not flexed a muscle
have not moved an inch in hours
will my head ever tire of this repetitive course?

what you feel inside
can flood your extremities
wash over you
seems to start in your chest
spidering out from there
to the tips of your fingers
base of your toes
rippling in gasping waves
emotion is energy
and thus travels the same

I hope to find a kindred soul
one to heighten my perception
one to heal my imperfections
together we could connect
create and complete
and encounter the sacred

I am held enraptured
my thoughts never straying for long
I can no longer call this fleeting
the ever sensual virgo
never ceases to desire elevation
of both body and spirit
I am the dormant volcano
is my eruption anticipated
how I hover above the heat
enveloping myself in the overwhelming
I cannot permanently kill my passion

I dream of elegance
embodied within eyes alone
pierce my exterior
feast upon the abstract
deliver me from my state of security
into the wilderness of unadultered emotion
make me feel the whole fucking spectrum
in the synaptic cleft between neurons

for thine is my kingdom
bring forth my instinct
exonerate the beauty
that doesn't merely flicker
but burn like Hades' pupils
beyond the depths
of my own personal touch

Greetings From Cancun

Hey tash, I suffered a horrible hang over yesterday, one of those ones where you lay in a dark bathroom with a pillow for 6 hours. Theres a good story of how I got it Ill share with you when I get back.

Another story, it subsequently ends in a hangover as well, although not as bad a one. I got wasted drinking white russians, laying in the surf staring at stars on beautiful warm night. Apparently I wrote haiku because there are several in my memo pad I have no recollection of. Did you know the big dipper is upside down here? Alas, I thought of you and it was somewhat depressing, for a moment I felt contentment, amusement, giddyness, relaxation, pure extatic joy. Then I thought of how you might of all people have shared that feeling with me and it was depressing. Well thats it, if it werent for you I could have lived in that moment forever. You ruined it I hate you. You should come to cancun sometime though, seriously its something else. Take care I love you. But you suck so much. Bitch. Hope alls well Ill talk to you soon, I miss your conversation horribly when I am here.

Yours Truly,

Justin


how peculiar the beginnings
of the most incredulous stories
the strongest intellectual bonds
always sprout from the shadiest stems

were you the dormant seed
and I the scattered sunlight?
our ignorance almost kept us from cultivation

you could not look past my bloodshot eyes
as I smirked in mockery at your football jacket
but, somehow, between the numeric equations
your lady of the time, dear sweet claire,
made us grit our teeth and bare the empty chatter
which would slowly blossom into poetic banter

do you recall the ampitheatre
and the reading of our creative writing
in turn, we each sat in the spotlight

I haven't retained much more than the drone of their voices
but I remember the shake in my own
I kept my chin on my chest, speaking only to my knees

I read, Upside Down
the first piece I've ever confidently called complete
I felt their hushed laughter, their bemused eyes

I also felt the silence when I spoke the last word on the page
slowly I raised my head to the stunned audience
I saw mouths hanging open, and the whites of wide eyes
to the side, Mrs. Mueller grinned gleefully

abruptly, they all began to mumble
some couldn't say more than "what..."
others proclaimed they were lost
a few began to argue amongst themselves
eventually, all eyes settled on me for answers

I immediately spewed excuses
and tried to clarify the confusion to no avail
my replies were reduced to a whisper
as they became as restless as before

next up

before I stood with a sigh
relieved my part was over
I glanced at your silent sneer and smiled
you, at least, honestly admired
oh, how grateful I was for your presence

later that semester
I wrote a single page for my culminating assignment
and skipped out on the final presentation
leaving This Thing Called Talent in Mueller's mailbox
I'm glad I wasn't there for another moment of their shock
when she read forth my most hidden fears, my greatest guilt
but I would have killed to hear your replies
to the classroom of flighty followers and fantasizing fatheads
if I've never said it before
thanks a fucking million, dude.

I still regret that I missed your presentation
I was such a fuck up, such a ruined adolescent
but I read your novel through, and still have it to this day
admiring your ability to do that which I could never
you've always managed to astonish me
please continue to do so


Justin, I am truly touched
to have invaded your mind
as it was absorbed in exotic bliss

this Russian Fox
has never been more gratified
to wear the title
Bitch.

Devour

with every word spoken
I'm closer to lunging
oh, to sink deep my teeth
into the flesh of your neck

to drink your very essence.

Claustrophobic Computer Lab

the click clack of keys
eyes straining at screens
I feel so old fashioned, fingers penning away on plain paper
while they type their vision away, feeling foreign to writing utensils
that are so sacred to my hands

the art of computing
its not the difficulty
but the lack of desire to learn

soon our species connected to wires
muscle fused to metal
veins pulsing battery acid
brains hardwired to a motherboard
virus checking the files in our heart
defragmenting images of the past
firewalling our weakness called mortality
when our vision is entirely digital, how will we accurately predict equipment malfunction?
how will we ever be protected from the malicious attempts of a bitter electronic body?
what would be done to prevent hacking into your head?
what if they deprogram your hard drive labeled life?
will it be possible to reboot reality?
or will they shut down your world?

I hope the future finds us fossilized
natural life forms wandering obliviously
over our graveyards full of mechanical monsters

Quill

floating and fluttering of long hair and lashes
emotional horizons through which she crashes
mind swaying this way and swirling around
drifting abroad where she'll never be found
covered in goosebumps but without the chill
such is the power of the soul through the quill

Exhale

all the times I said I was scared
how your eyes were reassuring
so often I fled unsure of return
always finding you waiting by the stairs
open armed and dangerously infatuated
your gracious smile soon found my lips
eyes sealed seductively shut
we'd stumble our ascent up the steps
finding love behind closed doors

we only knew weekends
and fragments at that
heads tilted back
draining two litres of bitter
the party was pornography
fully-clothed

soon I came expecting your hands
you worked late
I barely let you in the door
and we were halfway up the stairs
giggling with glazed eyes
luring with wandering hands
I found it cute when you wanted a drink
I'd already had enough for both of us
it was time to take off your uniform
I reassured
you didn't need to see your friends

all we did was play
through the nights
into the following days
eventually I stayed sober
long enough to clearly see your face
it was months before I realized
what my intoxication had told you
without any words spoken

I had refused feeling thus far
but without double vision
I saw your heart reflected in milk chocolate eyes
I repeated my fears
while we hid in a corner
away from prying eyes and ears
that only wanted us to drink
but your body had me

convinced you had really pieced me together
from the drunken haze
I took your hand
and began to walk beside you without stumbling
never looking back on the impossibilities
of comprehending the blur
of looking further than the flesh
of seeing anything at all

and from that very unlikely beginning
we grew a relationship
shot after shot after shot
immobilized together
we lay hungover
day after day after day

time brought weekdays
late and absent classes
catch you before afternoon shifts
sex before school
days spent in bed
silently gazing
never a serious word spoken
if we spoke at all

then came endless hours of video games
and furry little animals
our only shared passions
besides that of intoxication
after enough repetition
anything can become the natural thing to do

those days lasted forever
then we began to change
together
we started staying sober
I detested what we had become
and with love you followed my lead
you found a world outside
you'd never even realized was there

we forgot your friends
and found each other
discovered that which had remained hidden
since the day we met

our beating hearts

we began to support our personalities
encouraged our best
you thought you knew me entirely
yet never read my precious words
it felt like years that I tried to show you
I'd rip the veil away
bare my soul
you wanted to be my everything
but never heard a word I said



I finally stopped by
we both knew it had to happen
we both knew I wanted to avoid a mess

I exclaimed success
you smiled at the happiness I didn't speak of
I tried my best to return the favour
but it was hard after seeing them
realizing the return of the house
to constant intoxication

I felt you kiss the air when we embraced
I choked on the grief I havent let surface
I swallowed hard to keep from realizing your demise
eyes forced shut to keep the tears from brimming

I haven't had an appetite, or a will to move
again the beer bottles glued to my lips
wondering how it happened
how I let you fall
I thought we had grown so far
I didn't think a tree could again become the seed.