death for the compromise

[february.6.2008.4:21pm]


wipe me from the floor
for my person has spilled
from the voids corroding
through the flesh of my
souls flask.

wipe my essence from
seeping into the ridges
of your nonchalant
attitudes woman hand
woven carpeting.

wipe my cores tears
that stream across the
windshield of my eyes in
sodden melancholy lines
that bear the bittersweet
taste of my pain sweetened
so sourly.

wipe me from the floor
for my existence has
been splattered through
the division of shards of
time being shattered.

wipe me from dying in
the silent death that
compromising relentlessly
provided.

possibly unamed

[february.6.2008.3:17pm]


curiosity dwells in my
youths lack of experience;
my soul isn't content with
empty fulfilllment of the
constant attempts of
manifesting possibilities
that only result in the
"what if."

my mind will invariably
vacation to those cerebral
excavations to uncover your
past existence now only
existing in my psyches power
of retaining and recalling
our past experience[s].

in the creases of my past
you'll remain unheard unseen;
embedded in the silk thread
of my memorys knitted seams,
forever remaining parallel to
my present.

the soul exchange

[february.5.2008.6:26pm]


legs disunite to expose
the vacancy that rests
on the surface of my
pages soft folds.

my script openly displays
itself;
sensually it offers your
pen to glide along the
lines that serve as guides
if any trace of misdirection
finds your firm strokes
for your steady hand delivers
thrusts of your papermate
to mate with my seams
in their margins.

ink brings my
melodic melody to
articulate themselves into
stanzas that soon come seen
manifest into metaphorical
expressions that slither from
my lips appreciation.

my pages become stained
with your pens volatile verbs,
verbs that explicitly exhibit
how soiled your vision is as to
how our playwright will be
written to its end.

our different styles of
approaching poetry poetically
marinate in the others
literary fluidity.

on the tombstone of our
shared precaution,
our poem becomes engraved.

for this isnt sex;
welcome to the soul exchange.

verseless songbird

[february.4.2008.9:16pm]



silence coils itself
around the cassette tape;
a cassette tape of still
music spilling loudly into
the gaze his eyes so firmly
plants on my physical existence.

his lips never part to
give a voice of curiosity
permission to feed into
the caution that serves
as a barrier between him
and my souls sanity.

his stares are stand
ins for his tied tongue;
his eyes speak words
uncertainty limits the
snake of his mouth to hiss.

versesless this songbird
seems.

i long to hear his melodic
melody comforting all had
suspicions of his mild mannered
silent speech in the pillows
of ethereal dreams.

who am i

[february.4.2008.9:04pm]


to love??
to be loved??

a right of this
i have not,
yet i strain through
thee fray of what
should be only to
be wildly occupied
with thee what could be.

to have found my
soulmate at thee
transition of dark
to light seems to
have been lost in
thee shadows i so
need to flirt with while
naked.

his fingerprints
arent stains i long
to cleanse from my
souls core;
theyre proof of love
that existed in a
time not convenient.

i can only imagine
thee flutter of his eyes
as they walk across
whats here written
and i can only pretend
i can feel what emotions
these words evoke within
him.

smiles fuck my lips
into displaying,
expressing how
what we will share,
but will never develop
really transcends to
my soul.

ive let go,
yet my grasp hasnt
let loose.

what is said to
be right is what
weve decided to
place actions to.

for if things fall
apart,
he may be thee
better situation to
fall in place.

if not,
from my heart,
mind,
vagina,
hell never be erased.

exit i am to a
place my love and
i used to be in hopes
of creating that mystic
shit he and i founded.





love, love