dreams.

white sheets white room white bed
playful underneath
and in i am invited and i will gladly accept.
now in the dreams we are dancing
and that is better then none
and we will meet on the plains of the supernatural
a world where the only clarity
is true instinct and truths about us
that we are to scared to embrace here in the mortal.
so let us meet every night on the plains of the supernatural
until we are brave enough to swallow the pain and fear
to perhaps one day be playful in the whitewash.

Upon my absence

7/30/2009
As I return to where I lost and then found myself I start to question if this journey will be as productive as others. I am further built than any previous moment, but some of the foundation has cracked...and what I have lost has crumbled and there are no hands of retraction to reach into the chasms of the past to piece me back together as I was. I will make an attempt to build on what remains until one day this top heavy soul topples down on my legacy beneath me. Through the wreckage I hope those I love piece together a puzzle that creates the concrete story of (my name)
Aug 30 1984-

8/13/2009
Alive, but my arm feels to dead to move
half of me is not there
the rumble of thunder as a preview
and out stretched arms beg to
touch the rain
pour down on me
to hide as I weep
give me a reason to be cold and shaking
and when they pry open my hand
only to find photo booth shots of
me and you...
it is I that begs
it is I that reaches
and if I go down
it will be with a clinched fist
and us in the center.

8/14/2009 5:00 am
Give me a moment to focus my eyes
and realize that the dream is gone
of childhood locations and todays
memories...new discoveries of
what had been in the past.
The rope is frayed
& the wood handle is cracking
but to me it holds sure
and carries me over a river of
indignation.
I drop to my immersion to learn
resolve
awakened by the constriction of my
chest collapsing on my heart
and the cold grip of Satan
as he desires to rip from chest
what is dutifully mine
GOD HEAR AND ALLOW ME
my hands still warm
to tread this cold water
with my left
and pry his cold fingers away
with my right.
I reach up with mine
to find Satan's hand is my left
leaving to me to battle as
my own Satan
the good in me defeated by me
suppressed only by me.
ME SATAN SATAN ME
FORGIVE ME
I am afraid of the dangers of
forgiving me
so afraid, my own vice is me
FEAR ALONE COLD DROWN
my right hand settles on my left
but doesn't pull it free
the heart is choking
the river has no bottom.
Loosing resolve my final thought
of my one and only killah
causes one last look up to the light
only to see a hand reaching
and both my hands become
out-stretched
to meet halfway.

ashen gray darkest night & white light

i was told not to fly
gills or wings, is this the choice?
look at the splendor of both
and come to fear both
do i venture toward my greatest fear
or to my least fear?
do i find safety in the light of white
or in hiding in the dark of black?
flying fish
flying fish
flying fish
can't choose both...
behold, a flying fish
a swimming dove
will carry me from these bonds
and before i unify
this load will be light
and i will feel free to choose
to open up as a swimming dove
ashen gray darkest night and white light
shades on my face

Twin Peaks

I told her, "I would rather waste my day watching Twin Peaks with you then spend another productive day alone". It didn't sway her mind. 4 productive days later and the same holds true.
If this happens to be a mistake, do we have the courage to fix it together? I hope our pride doesn't beat us.

Aren't I

Aren't I glad to have a hero
Aren't I glad to feel sorrow
Aren't I glad to see blood
Aren't I glad to use bandages
Aren't I glad to feel joy
Aren't I glad to find meaning
Aren't I glad there is purpose
even when my doubts fly high
and
my faith is crawling low
Aren't I glad friends give me thought
Aren't I glad I don't know the answers
Aren't I glad there are clarities
Aren't I glad I'm weak
Aren't I glad I have the chance to grow
Aren't I glad for the dead
Aren't I glad to go on living.

eek

i thought that there twisted in thought
was why wrinkles
could come
about as i asked anything and all about a
long lived lovely ludicrous lucky lustful life..

Indie

The new vintage is 'future'...
American Apparel is the future Abercrombie & Fitch...
Anorexic is the new Indie...
Bi is the new Indie...
Making fun of Indie is the new Indie.

Mattress

She expels the light in hopes of feeling.
In the dark she rests easy
and her feet are barely moving...
There is a basement with the mattress on the ground
it's form is fit and the pillow stains are maintained by tears
and he spent his time lying at her side
but his ignorance not helping
unable to fully sense the pain she was exerting
and now the regrets that are regrettable
are useless because both their feet refuse to move to what is needed
and each stay alone in the basement with a mattress on the ground.