exhale

the buried bones of my

walled poisoning. the one 

my heroic severed fear brewed 

in the open fire cauldron. i can

now wash it away with my 

hardened, softened, strengthened

tear water.

to the crown of my crows

to the spine of my bald

blood. i assure you;

my floating has arrived

to the soiled toes you called

backwards. 

i am a freedom

only captivated by my own

thirst for knowing.

knowing the truth

of my core and the

core of this galaxy. 

i am glad I kept you

longer than before 

the ink dried;

druid drips finally 

find their way.

afterlife

cognitive velvet branches 

curled up on my heavy 

heartbeat; forgiveness and

light blue swarm me.

i have waited with neon negligence

and drowned, rather than soak, my bones

in your calligraphy beard. 

i am warrior.

i am still. 

i am the truth.

i am the breathe of my

breathing 

stagnant red

proclaimed in a lost crammed space and time. 

flowering edible tears

in my taste of what may have been 

if the arrows never looked down. 

i will write between his songs, but, 

i space out within her lyrics. 

i have new glasses and 

i am stagnant as Mona Lisa's statue, in paint.

i am see-through as her, never was before, 

painting. 

i am smiling through glass jail cells. 

i am an empty walk towards it with a dark red;

a light black. 

an immediate space that does not exist.

postwar; it ended with exasperated colors

crying out for midnight air. 

stabilized red eyes and

red bruises

and red where red was never to go.

i love her full moon ritual as much

as i love her empty staircase hair.

my duty is to fly

with her on my

open

back.

creator

 creator of disruption;

a catalyst to your white

being. bloody beats and

unrhythmic freedom delays

our organic rest.

we ate the looming

rain as it poured down

2 tiers of black cement...

our home was drowning and

all we could do was wait,

and rebuild.

we stare at freedom as it rotates 

around the thicker layer of 

the protagonist.

i was waiting patiently and the 

time finally distinguished me

from her.

premature colors

 in the open of my arms

the lines set us apart. and in

the circle of our names we

gather eyelids that dropped

while stripping us away.

when we met you slid

down my tongue into

a fortress of regret ,

fear,

pain and born again,

love.

but i am a forest nymph

awaiting glory clouds to

rain fists from the forgotten

bruises.

wondering how i misspelled

our own astrology...

got me to this palace of

unknown spaces

between us, that existed the

whole time.

 

i made it out of the landfill

so now what? i stand atop the mountain i climed through, only to

stand here and feel my feet

sinking 

again. 

i no longer hear 

me

anymore.

i am drawing.  i am me and

i am a feeling more than i was

inside an hour ago. 

in Africa we met and

the space between us

did exist and perish with

an open heart and closer

children. 

my skin started peeling

and my nerves started healing 

mermaids started drying out

and my iced knuckles

turned into buckled

fire.

if i swim,I'll drown.

can you help me 

again ? every time you come

i am lesser than before. 

leaves off her sketch

a warm bath heals everything. 

even the things that broke

again 

and again. 

when i wore a purple 

so shiny 

you couldn't have missed me.

though, the grey concrete under

your wobbly broken hearted feet

should have stopped you.

from seeing her, instead of a

little birthday girl.

the stage broke that day

and real life shaped my 

war ridden tongue. 

a warm bath heals everything 

but not the broken stage

my skin fell apart on.

i forgive her, for not knowing 

how to help.

a warm bath heals everything.

it healed my wounds

into words

into your shadows

that will never darken me

again. 

I want you to make a movie out of this book

I want you to make a movie out of this thread you can see how racist you are against fragile normal.

I want you to see paragraphs in the mundane and I want you to see lights in the grey cement.

In those places I belittle the letters I want you to capitalize all the feelings of pain. This whole style is different for me but I copied it from myself.

For the 1st time this might be the last time. In a rapid glare I find solitude in your separated rainbow. From a slow flake to a snowflake tattooed against your will.. Against the floor against the wall against the dark Burgundy steam room.

I want you to make a movie out of this book. I want to Diet Coke laughter crumpled up ranch Doritos to go viral. I want signings and fame and fortune and I want to give it all back to you.

at least that happened in my head..  

places

going to them

without leaving this 

orange probability.

i am tied up with a velvet

bow, awkwardly tied

apart.

you thought i survived

because we prayed

but i am here

because i decided to

leave that world

with you.

i am starving astronomy 

waiting for the stars to glide

along the crash

testing

differences. 

seeing us and not them

in her eyes on the river's sharp

edges and on my toes framed

sequence. on the timid feather of

the strongest wings i ever did see.

through the sleeping fleece and

opened marble eyes.

with a garbage bag filled tear

and purposefully singled stare.

i was a frostbite in your home 

and directly born from within. 

i owe you a capital cry.

uncovered

diseased and ruptured in the

right ways; your ribs against

my opposite, did not attract

my freedom. i remember now,

i was walking through the street's

blisters and weaving through us were

9 ribbons of past paper lives.

stubborn poetry that kisses

the omnipotent God.

sorry it took this long to

long for your warped embrace;

i died again 

coveted in the left moon

my body cries laying down

holding each morsel of 

anecdotal skin; she was right

about me. so i will continue 

to write about the 

death of her.

where his warm arms

uncover my sunlit home

in a cardboard liquid glare.

i am sorry i diluted you with my

fear and walls and fear and walls;

i meant to always love you 

despite 

how hard i pressed pause

in descendants and

sighed out empty fog

in solitude. 

when i die

lower cases will

win.

begun

roaming through romance

the ways i season our

memories. with water down

my breaking bonds and jade

circle eyes- we are freedom

within our own sips of 

shadows. 

in between the beads

of forgetting the pattern;

i will crowd my thoughts just

to see that me,

drown to death.

withered catastrophe

started with wind blowing 

sideways down our perfect 

backs. where, beneath perfect 

lived slanted warmth.

a love untethered.

suicide hair watching over me;

splits and trickery never fail

to hold me closer to

truest love-

the unconditional survey

pulse. beat one beat two

beat three ever more.

depleted corners of our 

rooms become finite solids.

and I, once again,  am an

again in unloved buried 

marrow. the in between of when

my skins left yours, 

for thine own.

closed my thoughtless for you

in a new way I turned to stone

and my fears melted into pain

puddles, that completed 

our exit. i am dried moss

who smells like lavender 

and cries with longer earrings,

now.

your web of art consoles

our footed 

webs.

and in the crevices of my

socks shadow, an ant

colony is building their 

distilled utopia.

wilderness beneath pure 

white literature; stained with

purity and inconvenience.

pages of our slow collisions

are burning with unbraided

sweetgrass.

i am nothing short of

a tradition built in

trees. structured in my

soul's peace;

the worship of magic.

settle your grief beside

my change..

and i will ground you

to our whole.

caught without red

today, i am yours and you

are far enough to miss me-

close enough to ignore me.

where were you when i 

needed the writing on my

wrists to repurpose unkept

paragraphs.

i survived,

anyway.

as time succumbed to

the frizzy pale pink of our

torso, mammoth sized burdens 

buried themselves within us.

flavors of our necks turned into

sirens and glowed grace.

God's playful memoir.

red no longer serves its purpose 

here because we are faceted in 

lucid faith terrible truth and

celestial soul sounds.

red is the color of my womb;

untethered black with 

emptied 

white dust,

a home on almost desserts

lips.

next of skin

adaptations of an entire 

universe that lease our nerves untill

we can afford a century of symbolism.

i have developed a mystical 

experience in leaving me alone;

attending to your every 

unbroken promise.

there are steps in our sky

that one day you will

climb;

my liqued white

fulfilled your calcium

and built your eyes

wide

clear.

my darkened skim skins

move through her golden ends

and she is aware now

of the rainbows we built through

our braver storms.

died

fast fingertips

with a hybrid soul. slow children 

tears fill up its growing petals;

as burgendy skin plagiarized

her canvas with black hope

and drying 

eyes.

you were with me since I could

breathe. since jade opaque stones drew 

circles on our tired for looking backs and

waterfall logs helped us forget we 

were looking.

since the symbol became a symptom and sympathy had no voice no 

meaning no thought in 

our until. 

everything you stood for clasped and burned down with lights. 

i stood in darkness to wait for her to light up these walls and mine.

ever thine in reels of a real reality i'm constantly begging for rain in. 

continuing to run away from and in her fortress i will keep finding love in.

their, the mommy please,  

eyes are keeping me alive. 

nothing else.

to end the cold and commence our broken; never to be whole again. 

renounce to the elders green anguished arms and forgive myself for keeping it all packed into these tiny white frames.

forgive. myself.

i release you from my abused addiction.

I capitalize your reading.

exhale this exhaustion

murder my mind.

to live and love again.

the end of the leaves

cracked open to ignite

our distant twin flames;

we are preoccupied by this 

porcelain page.

overcast steps and i

slightly drifted into more

love than this,

before. fragile concrete

and my smile dissinigrates

amongst the opaque clouds.

fury and free and below and 

over and again; against my

will.

imagine a sky without 

wings...

it would be just us.

just as it was...

beautiful

your silk copper waves of

linear emotions filters 

me and demands 

my freedom..

crystal dreams and

clouded eyes penetrate 

within.

written green paths

crowded with unfiltered wings

filled with promised wind.

fireproof heartbeats 

aligned with my moonlit

diary. the capital Poet that

no one ever knew.

so to the beautiful crow i

say. remain solitude 

till that happy skin

molds into our paint...

our family portrait.

may my natural traveling eyes define

me with blurred dreaming...

and my bold head underlines,

defy me.

underworld

i started carrying the underwater 

wires of deep knots in my womb and 

the roots began disintegrating under

my capped shaking.  gravity pulled me forward 

and fire eyes warned me that it was 

a late night. an insomniac flavor 

to savor.

i entered his breathing

beating chest and he fluttered

light grey lids , slow

aware

grounded

into our soil home.

he filtered my stone

eyes and a windy draft

collided into our palms;

his and my mine, not

me.

she put her hand on my

lower back and i remembered;

her lower eyes and sunset

torso.

mother, you have pulled me

apart and now i have fallen

in love with river eyes and

burnt hymns.

with love in our lands.

with life in our knowing.

the girl

and the girl existed between

our world and mine, locked

hair and preyed on lips that were

covered with past lives 

clouds.

she opened her gaze at me

and a drunk fairytale

arrived on plastic wings;

because the wind blew across

us and the forgotten in us

and the short distnace of

entering the poem,

in us.

mute this archetype into

a mold that fits imperfectly-

that is the line i willingly

shall cross.

her life

in my palms

with broken veins and

artist eyes. but broken

are 

my 

veins. 

warranted hearts 

displeased paper and

white radicals filtered

through these opaque, heavy

nautical wings.

i am sea i am burnt sage

i am dusted particles

i am grounded in your earth

soul; your soul's earth. 

yet; i worry on the lines

that i will forget to publish

our smiles.

we came from her womb

and i yearn for

the beige slumber 

once

more.

subdued

post edit 

i flash my green tentacles 

across your sacral sea 

and in a seated homage 

to my swollen belly, 

i release all which no longer 

serves my sore spirit. 

once, i told my aura to fly further 

than i was built to; 

my bones collapsed and i was 

in an omniscient trance. 

where my legs became your voice

and the air my silent movie. 

subdued; the color of my intentions 

when i cared about their noise.

garden of me

my soul footed in

loose rocks and the earth 

is now beside me;

nor above nor below...

just drowned deeper

than the last strand of her

eclipsed storm.

where we were when

we birthed her; rain clouds dissipated 

underneath unscented 

timeless and faceless and

lessened bones;

this is where now brings

gentle fire and thick breathes 

tilted towards our combined 

chaturanga. this is how i invite

you where she once grew into and

out of...

let my fingertips guide your

dance my little indigo,

and follow my inner patience as it

lights your growth. you have already 

enlightened this new, full moon

and i await your freshly voided

tears.

i love you in all of your incomplete 

and will love you in all

your formless and forms.

i can't wait to meet you...too.

scented seasons

in venus blood i am ruled

with an abundance of barriers

and plump moon rituals.

i lower my head and

turn to the fire while

we turn into ashes.

we snipped our summer with

rusted hope and forgetful callas,

all while lucidity kicked our

insomniac torso.

i am your mother

before i am this

word.

child in me

leaves crunching between

my feverish teeth and eclipsed

toes; too far to earth. 

lavender trees and this room keeps

getting smaller with pouring 

potency. i have spilled rainbows over

her lashes only to find my own

dry intuition blinded by stagnant 

opal forests. but, where she ends and i begin

and we will this.

i will break this branded bandage and 

let our clear skin heal...

slow,

pink and steady.

a leopard laughed and our

smile finally ran free.

close all of me

to open all of your demise 

into a protagonist overwhelming 

pour of osmotic gratitude.

the great of our lesser service;

an earth vacuumed into a 

numb fist.

higher priestess standing still

above this loud earth and dripping 

sky; i bleed and believe us.

where you open i close

my vision into a parting

tribe where i let her go

and finite your sword

and land my wand.

raw leaves

why did they come here

like lying dough:

raw integrity with everything to

lose.

I lowered my mind to receive your

intelligence and all i feel is

drowning sunrises.

across the universe into our

tousled rags of bruises;

wrinkled with the floors

we left our knees on.

i coexist with your strong green 

viens; each telepathic leaf

crystallizes our breath.

a sound beating drum with hollow

eyes and distant beards;

you are my home inside 

these jasper thrusts.

rise

i started creating you in

crying tones with crystal magic

tears. tears drained from an allergic 

river that ran violence down

my back and home through my

here and now.

i need paragraphs of her laughs 

to complete this salvation story

and a life of masters to

read to when my indigo dies

of thirst.

i started here and will never

end here again. 

because you will rain your

beautiful storm and never

leave us again. 

barely air

down my back and combed through

my distilled spine i feel the agriculture

of your motionless, meaty, tears. 

wrestling with our open

veins and distant

blood maps we decided

early

that we were at peace

and love would heal our

black scars. 

invisible lines across my

torso and through my

capital nights;

new moon seed

awaits our calm.

waking the walk

in an adorned flask

filled with deep red

seasons; we are

our own rhythm 

counterparts melted

gloss and a plantain

naked in the moons

waning light. 

awakened by 

our dreams;

a forever thorn has 

severed my magic and

delivered our sore 

limbs in each others arms.

i asked you to carry me

but instead

you walk beside me

awake. 

and i,

cross legged under

her dreaming.

moonchild

shock waves across her
slow dancing shoulders
all meaningless because
we cared to never
be careful.

and with broad tears

filled with narrow discipline

we saved each drop of rain

that filled the old bucket

on our new torsos. 

wild waters dowsing

a part towards their own wells

with a feather to erupt

even the slightest 

lonely

spell.

this time i end;

She begins.

wicked deity

i have traveled capital
plantations to find you
and on sudden explored
emotions;
i realized i was sitting
slow.

the whole time your
mouth opened;
too far to thirst
my quinch.

i am running away from
this skin you called
still once, so that i
can breathe evenly
again. forgive the spectators
but when i fell
they all cramped into
my intuition
and watched me
fly.

all that remained

is a past i never thought
i could read over and over like
a symmetrical poem faced with
fear and chimney laughs.

chilled with perfection
there is a crooked line on
my torso and
and i have enabled a pink
tryst with yellow
plastic
suns.

with a morning filled

warmth i will hug your

trunkated alter and sing

your nuances to sleep;

a chance to change 

again 

and again. 

the fungal that talked

unto us it poured its
green heart and we
jumped over its glowing
veins and declared
'succulent'.
dry interiors
breaking a fast
into a slow ended
wind; where my lined
heart bleeds and your
bad intentions turn
silver.
i am your poem witch
with magick words
and lumps of
disappearing wisdom.

together at last
is my skin to
these lucid bones
where i married
the earth;
once and
again.

i thought i was backwards

but,
i was floating upwards
inwards
onward to the new
white spaces.

beneath our permanence
lives a carved scream
filled with my anxiety
they named a
'woman'.

i am still composing
you under our snake
leaves and over
the distracting
decomposition of the
bristles we spread;
you still welcomed
us with open
Earth
Water
Wind
Fire
Air
breath...

that woman
deserves
more than
us.

the story of dreams

i never created it,

it became me and in a deeper

than usual menu of paralysis 

i broke the lifted petals into

even more brilliant pieces.

uncertainty calms our demise

spread over in thin layers

of insomnia;
the pointed windows 

to sex remains open closed and

open; in that, again,
a mural.

i am a human on a mountain
waiting for our humans
waiting for the same breath.
cross-legged and turned
to ice rather than my
beatless heart.

smoke of our fires
have killed us and in
our 9th life we are still
not home.

bodies are discriminating into
longer arms and shorter souls
but we never chased the rain
away;
we never once told the rain
to stop breathing.

we sacrificed and
died a dry talented
lie of a life with pink lips
and 6th senses.

copper lit hair

vanished among our braided
future we fear
to unravel and let
breath of our neptunes
in.

i am a soaking air of
knowing and by and
by i am still. i am distilled
in this water of grief where there
is no beginning middle
or end. just an end an
end and a copper lit
end. i weave into her quilt
whilst she tumbles empties
down her rustic slacks;
defined ribs for one
purposeful opening.

waiting for a blossom
covered in cherry paint
and no one will ever
see what i saw
today.

just the hanging
words on these white
flavored
empty pages.
one by one
and end
by non.

sky cycle

salutations to our red
bonfire pitted
at the root of my growth;
yes, i am growing out my dead
limbs since they are too
weak to shed on their own.

i think i have sabotaged
my angle that fit us
before it pitted our empty
space. it was as easy as
this guarded embroidery
polished down my
sacred bloody
whimsical
nothingness.

it flew by us as
we had hoped it
would.
her abused arms
straggling across
the crescent moon
filled with black
shadow smiles
and safely adorned
our
again birth.

violin petals

scratched surfaces dissolved

in a solitary good. i was not aware
of how deepened our void had
become; until i awoke in an underground
ceramic pot with earth choking inside
my throat.

i am aware inside this crude melody
where blue love nestles between our
knowing departures.
where closed homes have
moved; i am moving houses on this
crescent water moon. 

tread light on my fallen water
with open thighs i pull the portal
over my back down my wings
over our break
and down our whole.

love captures us;
again in deeper
earth. 
dry and delirious,
delicious 
earth. 

ripped healing

ripped blades and

cursing tongues screaming 

for a burden to be held on to;

become the watching of
everything we let slide
beneath the lit waterfalls
of a mimicked moon
of unsweetened honey
moonhoney
honeymood;
lets call a name
a past.

i am a dreamer without spaces
boundaries and reasons to stomp
my heals.
i am fortune i am grace
and the neglectful burgundy
blood in between

i am up side down
and iv'e felt you
in my gone
gravity

later

i am aligned to your lunar eyes

purple tongue and yesterdays 

tears; let us go to letting 

go.

i do not want this cellophane
wrap curdling my already
broken limbs;
let me break free.

remove these shiny metals
off my skin i wanna dance
with the many moon's moods.
fabricate my eyes all you want
because when i close them
indigo shadows bring me
back to life.

cocooned with hand-me-down
coconut sauce; her smiles are
determined as the stars tonight.

so again, i am going to have to
have you no more.
me
more
more of
me.

give my mending wings
more air to breathe....

margins

to start crafting our escape 

and stealing our homes

while escaping our furthest

veins; the withering magic 

dusted with melancholy blue.

I wonder what his passionate 

arks do with my hurt.

that passionate stranger that

saw through my second finger

lining.

cleaner substitutes of layers 

and layers of clay nerves;

awaiting the dawn of

letters to my younger 

self.

catch me while I'm falling 

then be sure to hold me

in my own dented grief;

for it is i who

sleeps on his

kind blue hands.

dried tree

filtered by grief and in

a mountain sphere i am

withering along your 

removed corpse;

feather puncturing my

unreasonable spine 

i am a flavor to this

version of skies.

dark necks throbbing 

above another galactic 

star;

where i am moonlit 

in your classic 

intentions.

lowered chi

abdominal truths
penetrating our

empty pages

collaborating with

a liquid truth;

i am condoned

by your bold text

and void of wireless

blood.

i wonder why i never wandered
before. why i never stopped to
ask us why the ground beneath
us turned into fast collarbone
paths to the unknown and
unintended.

meditating with metal
hands and heavy chords
in my veins;
singing black nails
and deep masked exhales
leave me behind me.

a lower back torso
is watching over my
plastic as i unveil the deep
skin scars further
and further away from
you.

far in parts

where you and i collide in
a galactic beaded night.

where the sighs of our ancient
moons will release a damp
memory over our shoulders;
we exhale stars and
deplete in their void.

i share my music
with the world before this
one. i am amplified in the
omniscient rubber of our
earths' latency.

you hid beneath me
and under me at the same
time. you fly above me
and over me during our
last cries- apart.

i die daily in you in us in me
in an underground ball
filled with our
dead.

bat wings

fluttering up my dark spine
and flying under my insomnia
and when life threw curve balls
at me I moved away;
i am learning to play now
in soft fading moons i am
sleeping awake.

“One of the most fascinating insights by the remarkable poet William Wordsworth, is the natural revelation of the divine that surrounds us in childhood, which every child breathes in and is surrounded by all the time, and knows without knowing. Natural mysticism is the environment of childhood; it is what nurtures us. The child is exposed to the cosmic revelation from birth and infancy. This is the child’s world, a world that has a fresh, magical, numinous quality. For Wordsworth, children are born as nature mystics. They approach the divine, and are approached and enveloped by the divine reality, through the natural world. It is the medium through which they experience and process their religious experiences; it is their teacher, friend, and constant companion, the source of wisdom, value, and enthusiasm. They see all of life through this timeless mother before everything is interpreted for them in the categories of others."Wayne Teasdale 

fly through the nights my

light angel

and never, ever

land. 

majestic

light waters
held a dream together
and the it
left the illusion
alone; for once.

deliberate like rain
on our cloudy backs
were the feverishly high
antelopes of tightly
dried out poetic
knots.

metal hands hidden with
cognitive storms peeling
apart to break free on our
ripped nerves just waiting
to be itched.

diluted with soft
metal hands i am
praying with your
back's small intentions.
i am praying
with my back against
your distance.

we live in moon storms
and our hair is on a fire
that sings peace to
our semantics.
our home is filled
with unopened
windows but
i still feel safe
inside your
wild deft night
arms.

moon mascara

i only see her in that
way; he only sees me
through is abdominal
pains and never through
his fingertips.
see-through glass running
with mirrors so abrupt i
can taste the salt
off my self induced
wounds:womb of my
effortless fear
i do not need, i want
i do not listen, i see and
i feel the cradle
of soft hands that weld
me clean
in my moon
lit stars.