Albino Words

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Through fog

Through fog I dance On light That falls To ocean that calls my name. And you with brilliance light the sky with your hate your love your pain. And me with fear crush all your dreams through empty hallways and souls. And when he dies and I realize the truth of the honest and the lack of the suspected game I will fall through the clouds and land entertwined with the oceans dear mane. 

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This House

This house radiates sorrow. The pale, modern walls embody stressed sponges Spilling out, reaching the ground in grand waves, swimming around our ankles. The depression quickly penetrates your skin, toxins seduce your cells And you can't battle what's too miserable to give in.

This house is stuffed with radiation the kind that decays human flesh and love  and gets harsher every year. From the floor rises suicidal thoughts like heat on the first winter night  And the food is tinted with the taste of the blood I spilt that tuesday afternoon. Clean clothes smell like salt and the dirty are accompanied by rotten dreams that leech their once bright colors. Deep in the face of your depression, serotonin has dispersed Paralleling your longing to be free of such a happiness repressed family. You know the truth. This house radiates sorrow, this home has stolen your heart. 

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Respect

Respect isn't a daily two cigarette pay and Disrespect isn't the invite it's the fucking delay. It's the crossed over plans that you made And the days that I leave and you don't see me fade. It's expecting a smile, but you don't look my way It's giving you my soul, and you have nothing to say It's the person you are when your friends are all there It's your words when youre mad, and your violent stare It's the times that you looked at your phone when I longed for your kiss It's those stressed lonely nights, and the things you don't miss It's the fight that the neighbors heard, where you never apologized And its that hatred I see when I look in your eyes Respect isn't a daily two cigarette pay It's apologizing after you try to scare me away.

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Your Shadow

I can't promise I'll stop running after your shadow. But if you turn off the lights I know I'll run circles in your darkness searching for your warmth yet finding only your cold, hollow walls. I can't promise I'll live without you. Not because I need you but because I need someone and I'm already so far gone. Longing for my dying day; begging with clasped hands to the threatening sky --he wants to drop his sorrow from the heavy sac he carries on his shoulders and I beg, please empty the bag on me for I never have enough pain. My heart never aches to the extent it should. I am numb when I should be screaming.

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Rain/Bow.

Rain can hit the road on a sunny day and not birth to a rainbow. Or maybe colors will show but only embody dark grays as it tears across the skyline. I accept all weather; the grays and golds yet what does that speak to besides my acquiescence? 

You mirror the numb rainbow in my sky; grasping the beauty and without a scratch or tear on it's surface the colors morph. It always hits the soul; it always punches home; was the intention to crush a fragile love, I ask, because the beauty you display is dark, consuming and filled with holes. You can't knit warmth in rain, can't uncover truth in a storm, so why do you dump your cold tears on my head and expect things to change?

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Mouth Stitches

It used to be so beautiful that I'd want to live Yet now it is so beautiful I want to die. From one radical to the next I vary in colors and songs I change in words that are beautifully meaningless as I am miraculously lost In the depths of my ocean In the depths of nonsensical letters pinned together with open safety pins I use to clean my teeth I swallow to close my mouth

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Drew a flower out of ashes

Carving life in my skin Though it will never do I won't breath till I win Won't cry out till it's through 

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Waiting for the sky

If the sky fell it wouldn't matter that much I might be sad but it's not like I'd miss your touch I might long for your voice at night I might want your kiss to make it feel right But it's not like I'd cry Cause I don't care too much for the sky

The darkness might be as consuming as your lies I'd need at least one light to see your baby blues eyes I wish so bad I could be in your head Know what you think about before you put yourself to bed Maybe you'd think about all the times you lied to me Knowing the truth is the only way to see if we could ever be You said you like the scarlet and appreciate the pain Maybe you're like me, completely insane

If the sky fell I wouldn't miss your touch Because you can't miss something you don't get much 

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1995

  1995 Summer came close to the inner circle of hell Years ago I walked down deserted asphalt a tract that slices through the center of the world One night in smokey clubs Where they met at the stage Where they jammed smoking marijuana Ecstasy My night picked up where it had left off As if there had never been a war As if intoxication was nothing more than a bad dream Over the loudspeaker the soldier told us to come To the fence To get chocolate and money They cursed us   Adapted from War is a Force that Gives us Meaning by Chris Hedges

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Life's Bloody Needles

If I could write poems that fell like snow Could shine through walls, for my sorrows are gold Could send torsos to knees at the last blow, I’d reveal sky and remove the blindfold. If I could mold feelings into beauty Then I could make you an exquisite piece. Wind fallen stars,  I’m always on duty I’d show you perfect; I’d show you release. Yet humans stay humans, and pain the same. Regret follows the sea, like death to life. Unlike the mustang, our souls have been tamed. Hate, ripe as a plum, and doubt travels rife. So long as life injects her pain through us, I’ll dance through this world on feet of callus.

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Winter fingers

In the winter he came to visit He fell through the country Grabbing peaches that skimmed his path As he leaned on the brakes

  He fell through the country This time it was different As he leaned on the brakes He left everything    This time it was different Days withdrew their tight hold on each other He left everything     he fell through their fingers And landed in the heart of change   Days withdrew their tight hold on each other As he walked memories remained memories He landed in the heart of change The winter he came to visit

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Prints that Write Stories on the Ground

It may have been a dream, the back of your head, the tips of your hair, or it may not have been. Either way, I laid there and let the image turn into feeling until it started to fade. Remembering where I was, I grabbed my watch from the corner; of course there was no surprise, I overslept. Put my boots on and unzipped the tent. The cold air and silent morning greet me. Dry wood lays in the pit, I immediately spark a match because it’s freezing. I can’t remember who’s idea it was to go camping in this snow, seems like a strange idea when we have a warm, safe-house somewhere back home. I see your foot prints that have dented the fresh snow. You circled round the camp fire, then it seems you laid back down. Figure you won’t take long, though you have always been one to sleep excessively, but that would be impossible in this cold. Twenty minutes have passed by without a movement from your tent, not even a rustle of the sheets. So I stand up and walk across the winter ground. I open your tent and see nothing there except an open sleeping bag. This puts me in a panic--how long have you been gone and where could you have stepped off to? I turn around in my place and once again my eyes track your foot prints. They end staring out at a small trail into the big woods. With a hand, I wipe the hair off of my forehead then leave the campsite to go and search for you.

As I continue to follow your foot prints, the trees surround me more and more; when I turn around I see no clearing, only a forest of sleeping trees and endless, milky plane. Only prints and fallen twigs break this lake. Three prints. Your feet, my feet and the paws of a wolf. They slink out of the woods and place themselves right next to yours. Scarred of what lies at the end of this path, I walk faster as to catch up with you. Lines of worry set on my face; it’s the dead of winter and I bet you look delicious.

The wind picks itself up and delivers blows; she burns my eyes and fogs my sight. Why’d you go off into the wilderness alone? By this time, we could have been back home. I wipe my eyes and curl closer to myself. Still, I am tracing your foot prints, looking for a tragedy that is bound to appear. Now things look much worse than I thought, as I notice that a second wolf joined the hunt. I hope you have a knife by your side, maybe they would run, maybe they would hide. My worry has suddenly disappeared and what takes its place is melancholy fear. The snow says that here is where you started to run, so I enter the race too. I spit your name into the breeze, but besides the roar that my breath and body makes, only silence appears. My knife slides out of its sheath while the tracks veer to the right and head straight in the woods. The brush closes in on me but I drive right through, and for every step I place the light retreats. Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks; my head spinning, I look to the ground. I see only wolf prints, where did you go? I took a few steps back and stood quietly, oddly, staring at the ivory. Your foot prints disappear as a third set of paws inscribe the snow. I can’t think of words, or questions. My brain is racing, my logic failing. Maybe I could understand if I saw some type of struggle, but no blood stained the snow and no fight was marked down, just subtle prints that write stories on the ground. I spent five long seconds looking at the last of you, then stepped out of that woods, and never went back. 

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Pretending

I can paint walls with my sorrow and         pretend it's gold

I can slay god         make his last tears fall from the sky and pretend I'm happy in the rain

I can leave the bathroom          bloody and pretend it is art I made

I can close my eyes          leap and pretend that I'm flying

Pretend that a future awaits

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Maple

The red maple left a circle of fire around the black iron chair

she stood in peaceful fury 

whining of lost years and a fallen beauty

  Until October grew tired of her early

He threw fistfuls of ice at her tender limbs

and she broke into pieces

  With strands of her red hair still grabbing on to youth

she let out cries of agony

she spit and whined and sputtered to the ground

then fell silent

  She hasn’t spoken a word since

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Steel

In my past I was steel

I was too old    I grew dangerous

Too solid   

   I would not break      yet

Too broken    

   I could not stay solid

  From fragile flesh  sprouted rusty blisters

that popped and splattered and thrived

over my skin

          Nails sprouted

Innocent souls be warned 

stay away

unless you want to be      

                                      corrupted––corroded 

  So–only those like me  came close to me    yet 

we never touched

for    the feel of our sore snake skin was painful to caress––to accept

and we never talked

for    our mouths had been taken over

         our thoughts crusted

          our memories scabs

  Only when I was doubled over and barely hanging on 

       to my pieces

                 did I realize 

                                 that 

      rust is a weakness

  and 

      no one is solid enough   

to be solid forever

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Be with the light--but you will not

I don't write about love. Real or fake. Don't want to get caught in that spiderweb. You see, that web taste like birthday dinner, until you reilize the chief fried up flies. You see, that's the kind of web that lures you in with subtle beauty-- crystal droplets on thin silk-- On your knees you spread open a fragile box inside the sun rises and hand picked stars shine.

But once they fill her body with this Bright   Firey   Silent  Serene      Light She will gaze at you intense passion-for you intense concentration-for her. Lips will slowly slide up slick teeth and fangs you never knew glisten and eyes once soft now stab you--

fierce And she dives at you--No. She pounces--you dive in her Swallowed-whole Eyes remain shut; you remain hopeful. Because maybe, this will lead you to that bright   firey   silent   serene     light

It will not. Here lies muffled darkness. The sun was evicted long ago. 

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Fan of the silence but mosh pits get suicidal

Can feather words live their own life? Can they lead bland fruit across california, to a dark case- crammed on every wall  bubble letters   of pure absurdity          home.