a novel, the blanket and the gesture

the baron is erupting with local flair 

     slaver, staring with esteemed appetite 

 well-fed and flooded

                         violence and soft cotton

   barbed misgivings are thrown into the creek of sheets

               filthy

 you and i turn over and around, pulling our feet up

         sounding off as the water

        teasing layers of hesitation.

                             tempt me

      a whisper 

                a sanctuary, eternity! 

 whistling at me with your eyelashes

              lonesome scarlet women,

       i heard you're pointing fingers

the weight of one piano and another undisclosed amount

oh man, is this book terrible or what? i read and read and read and read the scripture on these pages as a mirror to reality and the downfall of imagination .. it's spitting ink in my face, fucking dripping from my brow to my chest and down to my waist and legs, knees, feet, toes. i'm bathing in acid and salt, as so gracefully ungraceful an air is hung around my five senses like the hangman's noose on the eve of death. tainted and sickly scrubbing my wounds..tainted and frantically scrubbing me clean of the memories of you and i before they were ever soiled and shot. sunshine sunshine sunshine sunshine sunshine fucking christ i want sunshine as much as i am in love with the cloudy day and the tears of rain, i want blue skies of carelessness rejecting self-doubt and pity for the poor and weak.. wooden floors polished like the GLEAM of hope that is virtually invisible and practically lost. i want to shave my entire body from head to toe and curl up in a river to cleanse me of this one-sided hate and romance and just be completely nude of everything before i am dragged under and destroyed by the endless-ceasing current that is drowning me

burn it down

things seem to be finalizing. i knew they would. this leaves me with the same window that was by my bedside in the whatley apartments that night. i can lay there and burn, or i can get my ass out of there. i enjoy living. i can't afford to keep weighing myself down. i have opportunities that are being presented to me, and i want to jump. fuck that bed, that house, the fire.. i'm getting out. i'm scared though. i want to feel at home. i know i won't. not for a while. it's ok though. i'll be fine. i need to live.

A letter [volume one]

Dearest,

I'm attending a funeral today.. a farewell to something as beautiful as the cyan sky seen through the ring in the stars. I feel immense sorrow, uncontrollable, irrepressible, and overwhelming. I feel a frigid pain, wounding, vindictive, and poisonous. My eyes are narrow. I'm trying to blind myself. I slept in my car this night previous, wrapped in a piece of cloth you gave to me. I was comfortably uncomfortable. I was snow. I felt more at home in that steel cage than I did my own house. I'm so worn down. I want to swim. At least long enough to escape everything and to live amongst the waves and the clouds, the mountains and plains, and myself. I'm so terrified of attending today. The sight of the casket of what was and what could have been is so frightening. It disturbs my heart to witness you there as well. I've been reduced to ash, and you to liquid. We both escape through the wind and rivers, flowing away from the ceremony in opposite directions. I am lost. The globe spins so fast that I am fixed, immovable through time. I'm hanging, suspended in this hopeless intimate feeling from yesterday and beyond. As I am writing this my fingers are becoming rigid and stiff, my eyelashes are falling out, my skin is wrinkling and and my bones are becoming an example of poor nutrition. I am having a heart attack. I am dying. I'm alone today, sitting in the front row, glancing at this intricate coffin and peering into the romantic bouquets of life and death. I am not religious. However I yearn for the escape to the gates where we can meet again in a place like Heaven after we are dead and forgotten. A vine of fruit and a loss of time, I'll miss you.

Love,

Nathaniel

the weather of clouds

i scaled the great, giant wall to it's peak

and i look over.

i see now through the blues and greens 

that fear is not alone but alone is fear itself.

i've driven over, through the flora of the heart and feet.

i was guilty and i covered my eyes.

i covered my eyes on my ascent to a case of honest truth!

i haven't any support.

            one leg in brick, one leg in doubt.

abandon me? your mothership. jump!

oh oh mutiny of my grasp, i love and loathe.

i've failed you, crew, 

i've run us into the great, giant wall.

i've blown the tire of my life

s

i'm losing you as fast as i lose the drops that fall from your eyes to your sheets. you're sinking in, you're sinking away to the depths you swam before we ever were =[

a vine of fruit

drip, open your mouth to reveal the sick taste of guilt

                                                                      as it frequents 

                    and coats 

your tongue and teeth. branches? coil your false nectarine sweetness around the boughs of affection while the leaves burn behind you... in a fashion of thieves and snakes you've partaken! a tattletale to your sidekicks about your personal sexual pursuits with a pompous fuck. slander my 'slander' as you see fit and try to justify your feline prostitution and felonies.

trunks. they hold branches and leaves- and another. in cold blood you flick your forked tongue as your own cat, your successor to your crooked throne                   and 

                              kingdom, arrives- dressed as the butcher.

"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."

Kahlil Gibran

uno

there is only one thing i truly want in this world right now, but i don't have it. 

This could be considered an understatement.

To be alive is to be alone, and I understand that now. I've ruined nobody that hasn't already ruined themself. You've bound yourself in the chains of grief and hate that weigh you down. To say that I was at fault for this is absurd, as is the logic of this love triangle that you've constructed. Although I will say, I am to blame for actually putting up with this long enough for it to rip you apart. I am to blame for actually giving you chance after chance after chance only to find that you've failed me again. How can you expect me to talk to you? You're indecisive 'decisions' swing back and forth like a pendulum. You are the fickle child that can't make up her mind on what boy can fit her fancy. So in turn, I leave you alone for a day and I am hated. I apologize for my lack of ability to be there for you while you lay in the arms of someone else. To hate me is unfair, because I should be the one who hates you. I don't hate you. I didn't ruin you. You hate yourself as much as you've ruined yourself because you know what you've done. 

best man [standing]

i can't believe it, four days a week

i'm just the anchor

the anchor of your dirty craft i burden.

take off your dress, you witless girl

you've worn it your whole life 

along with your recklessness and 

conscious knives you let fly.

 i have the dedication of a nurse but 

the strength of an elderly wench 

when it comes down to me and you-

just let fly one more to my eyes

to compliment these picture-perfect 

portraits of your future husband, you wife.

passenger

every wave is crashing into dawn's last call

the foamy rays shine though the break at the rocks

the table's set, the dinner bell, the glutton has began his feast

the floating table on the sunken ship contains, consumes the glutton's greed.

i'm gonna take the water bus as far as she goes

i'm leaving now, to find the crowds, perhaps a place i can call home.

i have no map, but i have the stars to guide me as the sailors do,

    but i'm on a bus, bound by routes, i paid my fare, now where to?

the waves come crashing overboard as indecision fills the room,

a sinking ship, a floating wreck, the current's bound to take me soon.

 i'm just a passenger, a passenger, a passenger of you

4:37 AM

as the evening comes, i ride away

but of the view i speak to say

what is this house? what is this home?

i just can't help but feel alone

my turn of coat, i apologize

falls of fear sleep in my eyes

i have no car, i have no home,

i just can't help but feel alone.

        you'll never know

                never know

i cannot leave my consciousness 

for fear of of losing all of this

it's why i lay, so restless now

for nothing anymore. it's loud.

i shake as i glance- at those two.

i'm god-damned scared of seeing you.

i'm terrified of things and home,

i just can't help but feel alone.

cold

do you love me, my stillborn?

do you love me, still?

     your closing beat sounded off in your chest and mine, as ripples do.

all before you were birthed and your heart's regard

            the  

            III                       facts.                      III  

                                                                         glimmer.

oh, my stillborn. i am on display as your pride of indecision. i am a father, mother, uncle, son, and arsonist. 

            i loiter in the waiting room and on the table i give you life, 

                       expecting your cold birth and to put it on ice.

     steadfast, stay! my stillborn! hold your ground at the breaking point!

whatever you do, you must not let the womb retreat from your back

                    because the air means death. 

if you fail i swear i will light you on fire, so long as you are live-born and warm.

            

                                 stillborn....stillborn? can you hear me? will you love me, still?

travels

they've always called me a traveller. i always open the windows. the gusts of chill air slam the doors. they float along, so sound. one day i'll jump at the time as good or better than any other.. my victory flight to a home i am not yet familiar with. i will escape. bound by too many memories, a paradise found. i am lost. bound by a rope thinner than my numbness in sleep, near my right hand. i command such a mutinous mind! come rain, come wind, i am but a leaf blown away in the end.

i am.

i am the renegade fog, the forgotten ship, and the curious find,

loss is becoming such a familiar friend of mine.

godspeed

from the tethered hawk i tell you, you can't stop time. slipping through the hourglass into the cloudy night the water is draining fast. one month approaches on the ravaged horizon as both the hawk and his captor have been run dry. it's a disfiguring situation when you deny a bird it's prey... you've been my target for the longest time but now i have been caged and weathered by the game.

                            i am not a box with a board and pieces but a wind thirsty traveller who is ripped in two. i have a broken wing and a captured soul, my eyes are fierce with greed and gold. this is[?] just a skirmish, in the war on a three cornered point with the enlightened adored. though i have but one wing, i still have my talons and beak [i am not one for stalemates, truces, or treaties]. i'll take up arms to your disposition as it follows the temperature's days, feeding your captive or leaving it grey. 

 a queen, no longer bound by the noose of a title. stab me in the neck, i am a traveller! [and i will do just that]

      i am a mirror to look at and remind yourself of how unkempt and spent you are. you are a beautiful liar. i can't stand in the hay while you burn it. a doctor once told me that you cannot halfway amputate a limb when it's all you've ever known. i love you but you must forget me, i am alone.