no more black ink

no more black inked

unedited etched upon this skin;

just my me nakeds and the fire

of the afterwards. i remember looking

down at the burgundy broken down

art; i smiled vixen upon your

titter beer veined neck and

just bit my crisped ready lips.

where i was happy and the existing

meant that tomorrow was

alive. 

but i am unbroken

i have tricked your beliefs into

thinking they were always

mine. threshold me and lift my fingers

off its' tight grip and stand tall over my new

freedom to let me see;

that i am unbroken. i am brittle.

but i am unbroken. 

under that tepee sky, 

happiness was never

this green to begin with. in a storm we

collided and in airy distances

we swallowed fresh births and

raw death storms.

freedom wings disapproved

their meaningless

while all kettle smoked

tears faded away;

abyss hearted brokens were

my one truth love.

wallpaper eyes

i am peeking through your side and

seeping through your withered bones;

desperate to feed off your nothings.

i like revealing myself unto your

non- existence because i become a

became undone. wherever we plan

each other the space is religious in

our wallpaper eyes.

cement heartache

what i thought i saw;

gold feathers flying downwards

towards my cement heart.

we could never be at peace with

these folded nationalities.

i was just a raindrop spread across

your horizontal leaves and walled

into that one area of proverb branched

home; we disappeared and the

writing so lightly appeared. 

three eye'd indigo

we are cinematography bleeding

fire and without these pores on

purity’s palms we can finally bend

on one knee.  crying cement roads

lead nowhere and home is beneath

these painful pulled teeth.

through shattered glass windows

we saw each other faint into

faith and glory;

roads taken beneath

clouded majestic eyes;

three eye'd indigo. 

pulled throats

library chains perpetrating our

walled eyes and our hands are

still beautiful. we are always,

always, always

dancing along

beauty’s veined moments

of stillness and exhausted. loving

the white glare off their tears we

are forgotten jade seemingly broken.

so i break apart the white of the empty

spaces your hard thrifty fonts declared

war on; we are the same bleeding

throats. 

dark horse moon

dark horse standing alone but in a

together moon.  you are my broken

and i would never love you in whole

pieces ever after. short lived beautifully

decayed moments; you spoke petal

scents. and during the wood working

we disappear into ourselves but i am

alone and you are watching the slow

deer’s of designs fading grey.

bare-naked nothings but my

pores; it is a horizon cleavage

ready for you to melt in my me’s;

all of me’s. your peace eyes are my

meaningful word worlds.

treble-clef lightning

with water in my eyes i

see the drier air and feel

the green skies. you are my angel

in abstinence and when we are

proclaimed under these

falling apart stars the interrupted

ghosts will be demised.

we will stubbornly stalk each

other’s memories and forget how

we fell into the aparts’ abyss;

a treble-clef lightning in

our broken together

eyes.

autumn cries and tree tea eyes

pastry skies and chandelier

vines; silver history became

meaningful with pregnant verbal

abuse. i am tortured by your

curly smile and your tree tea

eyes. we are burnt skin avoiding

a proper iambic pentameter.

i am dead to your underground

and on bended knee i am every

unfinished. the very same place

where autumn cries begun to seep us

in their sleeping beauty;

every morning you arrive

and i disappear. 

new title

crying stone eyes fight

for this night’s tender. in

a protagonist semi colon

we explained my me’s.

and when departed souls

were condemned for their green

palms we waited until we knew

how far our monarch wings would

take us. new title to our only

lonely sky will become

a nameless lullaby.

thunder blood

sharp blood and you

pray upon us

with inuit instincts. i remember

when you were dancing

in my liquid arms with squinted

heartbeats and beating new eyes.

here on my skinned wall you

paint your fears with thunder

blood. you compromised me into

labor like littles and forgot to

sing to distance's foggy eyes;

the litter was unique until

we undid the past nocturnals

of our servant tombs.

so i will be your serpent

skin and fight off the

grey wind tease. this

poem had no presence in

our past.

dear jade

you picked me up and we drew up

our own calligraphy skies‎. your were

the only one there by my bones and

spirit alike ; through the thickness of

the thins and the untoughtfuls of

our societies broken limbs.

you touched me everyday without 

moving a heartbeat. my soul will

never be broken now because i have

her to pick up where you left off.

her tiny toes succumbed to

your forestry cement and she

bowed her head to your forever 

knowledge waterfall. i left

you in peace. you leave

me peaceful. 

the sound was

so beautiful that we neglected the

seas' togetherness. in the end

you and i were always an

already togetherness of green

utopia and indigo bloods.

paintings into my sky eyes

gothic mermaid spearheading my

foreign altitude and planting

paintings into my sky eyes.

i found you weeping on the last

cloud we dreampt upon. sudden words

damage our insides but

soon thereafter their

foreign legs will mold

the hardened cement into

a background smile. i am

your humble grass hugging

your feet dancing with your

pelvic and combing the native

winds with ready altitude

fingertips. i was a dry

mermaid fin this whole

time.

the capital of each me

you inspired me today as

you walked by my white leased

traffic tool. 

my soul diluted in your

forever skies.

to describe your clouded

dreams before you got here from

hopeful seas and ambitious flying hair;

coming to the western way.

different sunsets but we trust each

other enough to bleed through similar

papercuts. unspoken spaces between

each breath of lightening fingerprint.

i made a decision and you are

the capital of each me;

the raven me you inspired

in a forgotten dream.

autographed chair

you have darkened my corners

with your white mouth and

i am starving for your life to

bleed on to my autographed

chair. sit on my taste and let us

recreate the lower abdominal of

our galaxy.

indigenous to your coffee

rimmed lips and these sunflowers are

moaning again and again through

our calligraphy winds. i am in

your review and your voice is

tattooed unto my soul;

i forgot to tempt

us into our nothing

meaningful

solitaire. 

open hearted trails

control your waves and allow

their determined freedom inside your

own. become the tides again

and again and let the floral stamina

take charge take charge of each collapsed

atmosphere. bring wedding gowns down

the open hearted trails and forget

everything that you already knew.

remember just the sound of your

breathing above her grey haired

wisdom. captured by your

hallucinogenic

gestures and treble hands; i am

peaceful now because i let go

of me.

time traveled skies

our last intentions were

far beyond our age of

reasonable candidacy. we put

together all of us into one star and

hoped that it would abruptly

fall on our sacred laps. instead,

we devastated the numeral heartbeats

into thinking they were happily

moulded at the better half ends.

i will finish here;

in a place where you are my synonyms

for watering

a rendering of the time traveled skies.

stubbornly collapsed morning awaiting

desperate chopped lips;

an again and again safe keeps our

soul.

fingerpainted emotions and naked eyes

fingerpainted emotions withered

down with our distant tears.

i can plant a tree in your soul

if you let me. i can water

it with see-through intuition

and punctuation can be its’ redemption.

we can flavor the grassy clouds

with morning kneeling and disturb

the indigo skyline with our caged eyes.

you can try all you may;

these words will never

come in your first inhale.

wooden excitement and stubborn

stairs collide into each grain of

mint leaves untaken; i prefer

us unprepared with nothing

but skin and nails.

breathes of suicide lovers

you are making me disappear

and the written words are magic

that i can no longer reverse.

you sleep on the length of us

and we are disappointed in

its’ green. we are delusions of

us living upwards

while our backs face this

cereal sky; respond to my

trembling knees as they ask

your ground eyes for forgiveness.

i am proud to be your black rose

heart of hearts. fonts and magic in

a midsummer night’s dream while

the cement of our pasts arise with

stapled skins.

because my feet touch

yours and the path is enlightened with

our fatigued role play. we are the

same purple sky that fell in love

with the open breathes of suicide

lovers. 

the dream that you dream

scarlet boxes wrapped with 

emerald forestry

and inside papers. swollen tree

stumps help me breathe out all

the white peasants off the last

worlds. we collide into ethereal

timelines; so pack my

lap unto your

beating neckline and watch as our

thrusts become patient in your

yawns. visions of us will fade into

the abyss of our unwedded country;

i am twinkling around our witchcraft.

herbal magics coming to life and

the dream that you dream is no

longer in the sky. the dream that

you dream is no longer in just

your sky.

chardonnay papercuts

chardonnay papercuts with

memorable tears

and heartbeat veins;

i have crashed into your nerves

and there were no problems.

we were happiness and simple

was walking upwards down

these antique stairs. i will make

words bleed and science will

reopen our stage lights.

than we spoke and forgot

to listen.

thank you for making me shake

in my skin rather than lying

on your pavement eyes in

trying for our depressed. watch

these words as they come undone

in your order. i was tired in your

arms and we fell off

our bodies the moment we realized

freedom was our eyelids only vision.

we master each waiting beat 

so that sometimes

becomes every time we breathe in and out

together. we made love and hate

backwards; yet love is all

we will remember when we

turn. 

wooden architect and abused open literature

on a secret bed we

lay disclosed. we need not

to be in a constant. permanent

eyes are illusions. the soul

is never the same . the soul

is never the same. the soul

is never the same as i first

wrote that. we should wash away

the pronunciations so that we

can live in mute hearts. i want

to remember my life as

a chameleon living on

her paris stoned hair. emotional

cafes and abused open literature;

but i forgot.

in the meantime we are washed

shores by sand castles built

by a wooden architect;

we can dance this dance forever 

just as long as i get to hold your floor

with my toes.

closed tears and cardboard hands

the life of our past bring forth these

disappointed sunflower displays; 

we died young because we 

missed each other

through the sand. dusted 

wings and we

still became our enemies we still

ordered out of our chests and closed

off tears with our cardboard hands.

planted glass walls and these

leaves cannot breathe out;

they are inside these acronyms

and each robot rain drop is

magical because we touched

it while it fell.