Misery is the only company I keep.

I want to be buried in an unmarked grave,
shallow like my breaths.
Enough so that I can feel the rain,
but deep enough to connect to the earth.

The Heavy Hands Of God

Sometimes I miss having you here.

I took up the habit of wishing on stars. Then realized that they've been wished out.

I spent last night dwelling on poor choices. This morning I woke up and wanted to meet someone to share creativity. Not someone who pretends to be creative. The difference lies in the lie.



Love Dance Infinite

She was twirling her hair with her finger,
grasping at stones,
throwing them gently
at glass houses.

I thought I heard the sound of concentration breaking.

wrapped together against her,
we competed for a dominant position,
to attach at the lip,
and I can still feel her hips.
I heard her exclaim,
"King of the Hill"
I was willing to give up the ground,
I feel her weight on my wrists.

We rounded each others bases,
mimicking gravitational lust,
while exhibiting polar opposites push,
all while being tangled tightly in bed sheets.
Her breath against the swell of my neck,
our legs intertwined,
the slow drag of her fingers,
raising goose flesh along my back.

Dawn nears through eastern facing windows,
colors catching white walls,
those shadows now stalking the edges,
of the corners of our room.
Peering deep into those mirrors,
noses grazing tips in circular fashion,
the soft press of pedaled lips,
I twirl your hair in my fingers.

Pause.

I thought I heard the sound of concentration breaking.

Something is Happening. Can You Feel It.

::Transmission Begin::

It is unquestionable, that in the belly of humans, there is a discontent with the imminent, a thirst to destroy, and a need to believe that material gains are the only way to prove that we are god's chosen few (the puritan work ethic). The majority of the world has bought in. That discontent with the imminent, whatever that beasts name be, boils in the blackest portions of our stomachs, eating at the lining of our hearts and tearing through our lungs. So that each breath be haunted with that disease. We know not its name because we choose to ignore it instead of face it head on. Finally that discontent meets the world and begins to destruct. Today, 12 men and women, were shot because of that gluttonous beast whose name we do not know, who lives in each of us, and unless we do battle with that beast will always remain in us. It will reside in the darkest trenches of our beings. It will fester and implode. I am in turn left with questions, is this is a message from God or are we forgotten with the rest? I was always taught that if you have the ability to stop the evils of this world, you should make full use of that ability. Even if your own life is lost in the struggle.

::Transmission End::







"Rise like lions after slumber,
In unvanquishable number!
Shake your chains to earth, like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you-
Ye are many; they are few!"

(Read from Howard Zinn's, "A People's History of the United States." Poem Written by Percy Bysshe Shelley and titled "The Masque of Anarchy."