Love My Goodbyes

I opened
the envelopes of my wrists
and pulled out two red letters
for you.
You always liked my love letters,
but my goodbye letters are better.
Do you see my heart pulse on the pages?
The pentameter of my heartbeat
exiting your mouth as you read.
The exhale of my breath
coming out of your mouth
as you recite my warm syllables.
You gift me immortality.

Need or Bleed?

You need me.
I bleed you.
When you understand the difference,
then you will understand my pain.

Will You Be My Runaway Muse?

I have two coins
behind my eyes,
mirrors I use to self-reflect,
I see runaway women
walking in the corridors
of my mind,
their feet blackened
with holy dirt
from the promised land,
they peel back my thoughts,
like skin from rotting apples,
smearing the dripping fruit,
on the walls of my brain,
painting dream murals.
I am a slave to my muses.
A head full of runaway women,
my madhouse dollhouse.
Let’s play.

Piano Player

Hey piano player,
I can hear you playing downstairs
as I sit in my naked room
in a state of tomb gloom.
Those notes press through the walls
and like wild flowers thrusting out
of white sand they bloom
into the other side, into my empty room.
They shuffle
through the old crackling paint
as if it was dry dirt and they rise.
I watch that exotic rain forest of notes
rush from the walls like a glowing green candle wax waterfall,
musical leaves splash out, press against, and become crushed onto the walls,
forming a boiling fresh layer
of whispering paint.
A color invisible, unseen to the eyes,
but not the ears.
The echoing paint drips
from the sizzling wax walls,
I look to the ground,
and I hear all my silent fears drowning in those smoking puddles of sound.
Hey piano player, I love you,
you heal me, you cure me
with the screaming magic from that musical rain forest,
its flaming leaves tingle through my ears
slowly growing inside of me like a shining new organ,
it takes up its own space,
an organ of
whistling flowers, roaring branches, singing petals, and ringing leaves
all curled up around my self-mourning heart,
constantly sending the illuminating sap and thundering dew of joy
to crash through the quiet painful darkness of my soul.
A flowery organ
which teaches me how to live,
burning away my fears and drying up my tears with its fiery pulse.
An organ which helps me laugh,
which constantly pumps calmness throughout my broken system.
Yes, today I am the happy man
that smells like smiles.
Just for a while I forget those fisted hands
which taught me
that laughing was a waste of time,
just for a while.

I Wish I Wrote You

I wish I wrote you.
The syllable count
of your facial features is perfect.
The way your hair flows rhymes
with your glances.
Your clothes fit
like tightly lined up stanzas
and when I read the words
with my lips
I find the meaning underneath.
I wish I wrote you,
but I am no such wordsmith.
I memorize you
so I can recite you whenever I want,
keeping you on my breath,
I always have your taste swirling in my mouth,
permeating my tongue.
When I pray
your lyrics
bleed into my words.
I speak with divinity
through you.

My City

I live life.
I hold my city’s hand,
embracing her imperfect culture
like she is the only one for me.
I kiss the scars
of the fractured streets on her body,
admiration creates traffic.
Her night sky hair
falls on the hills
of her shoulders,
She smiles,
her skyline shows,
buildings like teeth.
Her lower lip
an ocean swell,
her upper lip
an ocean wave.
I spend my summers
caught in her kisses,
at peace on the tongue
of her shore,
watching the sunset
and her lunar artistic community rise
and draw her lips up
into a grin.
I live my life
with my city.

Destiny Desert

I found the map
of my destiny in your eyes.
My lips become two wandering nomads,
which travel the golden sands
of your body,
leaving kisses like footprints
as they explore,
lips afire as they stroll
on the sizzling sands above your soul,
your skin burning hot,
each gravel of fiery dirt,
each one of your flaming pores
is like a shimmering star,
your body
a universe of these heavenly stars
twisted and fused together,
a holy celestial desert.
My vagabond lips stroll
on the golden sands
above your soul,
they want to drink from
the oasis of love,
which rests in your buried ghost.
Kisses become more passionate
as those drifters dressed in red
dig down to your soul.
I glance at your eyes,
the map glimmers back at me.
What can I do
to make you
that your love is more to me
than golden sands?


I feel the waves of my sorrow
crashing against my brain,
recrafting my mind,
melancholy is a beautiful sculptor,
using her tides that flow through me
like streaking fingers
to reshape my mind
into a beautiful clay vase,
she picks dark flowers from my past,
and places them into the vase,
she paints the vase with images
that slipped down my mind
and are stuck in my heart,
leaving me in a constant state of suffocation,
she places my brain, filled with black blooms,
on her front porch,
you got attracted
and now you are having tea with her.
I am sorry.

Living Trails

I found Eden in your eyes,
stories of forbidden love, temptation, and betrayal

in your glances.

You have a familiar face
as I have a serpent’s venom
trailing in my blood,
black poison bubbling in my heart
and leaking from my pen,
a chronic low grade fever
gnawing at my soul’s infected edges,
black poison giving tongues
to my racing thoughts
and mutating them into voices.
I have a choir of madness in my head,
I found God,
I pray in all my tongues.

I found Eden in your eyes.
Now, listen to me sing to you.


The gardener thrusts his shovel
into the Earth’s dying body,
pouring the seeds of life
into her wrinkled womb.
They blossom,
ripping through
her muddy flesh
to get to her stone bones,
reaching her skin of dirt
until they have torn through
her pores of sand,
they begin to reach out
their arm-like leaves towards the sky,
towards blue freedom.
Their green heads peak out
and see what has happened
to their mother, to the Earth.
How man has plagued her
with radiation and toxic pollution.
The newborns then scream out oxygen
in horror.
It’s a shame we don’t hear them more often
when we breathe in their voices everyday.