You

You

I miss your skin.
As smooth as silk pulled tight
Across a lanky frame.
White as ivory stained with ink
As dark as night.
And the occasional freckle.
I named each one while you slept
And connected the dots to form
Constellations across your back.
And I wondered how many miles
Would bring me to you.

Velvet

Velvet

And the time has come.

To put into text.

My mind.

It feels so good.

To write again.

To type again.

To feel the click of each key,

Sliding beneath the tips,

Of my flesh.

To find and search,

For something.

That has never existed.

To feel the heat,

Of my hard drive,

Humming away on my lap,

Warming me with energy.

To see the florescent glow,

Illuminating my text.

Keeping me,

In a fog of light,

While surrounding me.

With velvet black.

Trip

Trip

A philosopher took me to see an acid trip.

On the thinest wire, in the center of Allston.

Spinning in little drips and webbing in massive webs.

Singing and sting and running all around my head.

Hollow aches a mourning heart.

That pumps on empty, blood run black.

A tired trickle that makes you sick.

An awful frighting sound.

Feast

Feast

There are these things that emerge from the darkness.

They crawl into the light with grins in their eyes.

And smirks on their minds, teeth white and wide.

Looking for a feast of flesh at least.

To satisfy their quench for human hearts,

And blood soaked passion.

Stinging the air with a poisonous stench,

Made from the depths of hell,

Which rots our noises with a lingering oder.

And all the while, we sit and smile.

Hoping to become their next meal.

Helpless and hopeless, just standing around,

As they tear us limb from limb.

Drunk

Drunk

Humanity is such a fragile thing.

It quietly bubbles under our blistering tongues.

Fizzing in the hot baking sun.

Of our brittle hearts.

Choking our grasp on reality.

The meaning which we strive to find.

And the belief we pretend to be blessed with.

Sting hollow veins with morning breath.

A tyrants tear in late May's bloom.

A tender touch of human thought.

Blessed are we who follow truth.

For light wanders not into into darkness,

But into black.

On which our heavy hearts migrate,

Into tar burdened shoulders,

Shrugging endlessly into horizons grasp.

Holding our fingers while we dangle.

On the verge of sanity's depths.

Forever mourning on the thin reach of God,

Who holds our souls within eternity.

Forgive us for our sins.

And lay us down to rest.

For only you will ever know,

The taste you made to give life breath.

I Can Imagine...

I Can Imagine...

The way your throat moves, a vibrating tickle as you talk.
The face I make when I forget to knock.
And when I meet the girl you truly love.
Lying naked on your bed, looking up at me up above.
And the way your hands move, scratching down my skin.
Covering my mouth so no one will hear you sin.
The way your eyes squint in the scorching sun.
And the way you said you only wanted to have fun.
And the way our bodies move under your cotton sheet.
The way you always turn away, every time we meet.
The way that I lied and pretended to be her.
Same body, same face, slowly did I lure,
You in with this girl that I'm really not.
And the way that I cried on this and caused the ink to blot.

Molt

Molt

God gave you up.

Deformed you and beat you.

Settled you on a dove's back.

And let you fall from grace.

And your mother was ashamed.

Cried and cried every day.

Called you every name.

To break your heart.

"You've got the lot to burn

A shelve of pig smotherd cries

Is there a spirit that spits

Upon the exit of signs

Is anybody there

(spines in a row)

These steps keep on growing long

(spite as an arrow)

Bayonet trials rust propellers await"