Seven Paces

Pacing the cold hallways,
My shoulders tight,
Carrying the weight of
A thousand eons
I strive to have meaning.

While having the means,
I forget the blue cylinders
That keep me from swaying
And tensing and crying
But I fear facing fear.

Empty faces echo beyond
My peripheral hearing
While mumbling softly
Of the joys of rattling,
I pray for changes.

Loose change is juggled
By the one who is doubtful
Of all that is holy and dark.
In the noon-tide of Mars
I am an empty light.

Lighting my cigarette
I blow on ashes
Blackening my lungs
And screaming for witches
To come to my waking.

The wake breathes oceans
Upon the covered hills.
Longing and dreaming
As long as Earth spins,
I’ll waltz seven paces.

Sweet Sixteen

Once more I look towards the East,
Not hoping life will carry me there,
Not wishing for something more,
Only recognizing the beauty of the rising sun through verdant leaves.

The warmth upon my skin settles me,
Making me feel alive once again
As melodies flow from my fingertips.
Perhaps there is an Orchid Queen somewhere inside my chaotic mind.

Night falls upon the brick houses
While turkeys roost in their trees.
No one stands before or behind me
While I traverse this dream-world made of flowing blue honey.

Killing off the gods one by one,
While relishing in the wastelands of old,
They cannot see the world as it once was,
As it is now, and what it may become if mortality is the only truth.

Close your eyes, little one,
And I shall sing you a refrain.
I wish I could ease the pain of waking
But some things are best learned through experience, not words.

Roll on, oh thunderous one,
Bestow your gifts upon us.
I shall wink when an eagle flies my way
And know how close I came to dying a slow, painful birth.

Orange Light

In the orange light I wander,
Wondering why the stars hide.
Held captive in my mind’s eye,
I cannot feel a tear or sigh.
Scintillating visions dance
Darkened by my heart so black.
Blue dreams of seas and skies
Skirt the edges of my vision.
Vivid lights cast an orange glow
Glamoring my scattered thoughts.
These days are painful pleasure
Pleading for more than lavender.
Lavish scents permeate my senses
Sending my thoughts towards orange.
Original virtue reaches for the skies so infinite.

Sea Foam

I walked through the cold air,
Dreaming of sea foam.
Memories, futures, present tensions
Whip past me at alarming speeds.
“Just breathe,
Just breathe,”
That is what they tell me.
I refuse, I die, I crumble inside.
So I step off the curb
Onto the snowy road
Feeling the wind bite at my nose.
Close your eyes, dream-girl,
Wish it away.
Cuddle yourself till your senses drain.
Picture the blue,
Feel the green,
Gaze at the moon,
Be the violet,
Sea foam will save you.

Nowhere to Go

I may be where there is nowhere to go.

The only thingnear is this foreign atmosphere.

Crawling upwards to the ruins of youth

I shed two salt-free tears.

Moving forward, backward, like rocking a child.

But the child is a song,

The skin worn and cold.

Am I to ride this train forever?

Must I follow the golden light?

Let me find my maker and set things right.

Haze above me and haze below.

I may be where there is nowhere to go.

~

Russian dolls cry out at dawn

For they, too, have been abandoned.

Leaning over the rail as far as I may go,

I see a reflection of the horizon.

No stopping now,  movement must continue.

The song will never end inside my head.

Crazed, I curl up in my bed and dream.

I let the haze carry me where it will.

No past, no future, the present ever-changing,

I seek what I cannot know.

Haze above me and haze below.

I may be where there is nowhere to go.

not so

Climbing the fire escape you breathe in smoke.

Beads of sweat fall down your cheek, or are they tears?

Possessions dropping off you, floating down like glitter.

Three stories to go and you change your mind.

Your body ignores you and climbs methodically.

Heat is searing your flesh, your eyes no longer function.

Climbing to get to that fire,

To that place in time

Where everything you once were resides.

But it’s not so.

Branded upon your neck is the icon

That carries you through your days.

Stop climbing and start falling,

Falling down to Earth, to Water, through Air.

Stop yearning for the Fire, you’ve had enough of that.

Dreams will carry you through as they always have.

The world of magic and love and strength and merriment,

This is the real world, the world you’ve created in your mind.

This is where you should be, not yearning for fire.

Stop climbing where you will surely be burned.

Start swimming in the lotus pond,

Gazing at the Moon,

Living,

Loving,

Dreaming.

Insomniac Things

Stolen slumbers

Plague my days.

Beads of moisture

Slip down my back.

I scratch furiously

At my reddened skin.

Black eyeliner smears

Across my cheekbones.

Muscles tighten,

Never relaxing.

These are a few insomniac things.

Through the window I see nothing,

The pane of glass is in my way.

What lies beyond this threshold?

Are there dreams that have strayed?

I hear noises of the city outside.

I try to guess what is happening.

It’s more fun if I stray from reality

And imagine fantastic occurrences.

A dragon slayed.

A spaceship crashed.

A vampire feeding.

A goddess descending.

These are a few insomniac things.

Do the well-slumbered folk live easier?

Do they find love, happiness, truth?

Is there an underlying secret to the universe

That only the rested know?

Do they live in a world of daydreams as I,

Or do they live in that thing called reality?

I wonder if there really are well-slumbered folk.

Perhaps it is all a lie.

Or maybe they’re all from an alien world.

These are a few insomniac things.

Insomnis.

Such a beautiful word for something so irritating.

Purple lights over silver blankets.

There is beauty in even the tense states.

I need chocolate.

I need hot black tea.

I need a cigarette.

I need cheesecake.

I need sleep.

These are a few insomniac things.

Savoring Snow

In the throw of tears

Feeling every kind of sorrow for myself,

Doing the menial task of rinsing out dishes,

Trying to find meaning in my life,

I looked up.

Out the window, snow fell.

Something that usually merits my disdain,

Yet my tears dried.

I found myself smiling, laughing.

I had never seen anything so beautiful,

So meaningful,

So light.

What does it all mean?

Perhaps I’m tired of trying to find meaning.

For once I want to enjoy the moment,

Savor the delicacies.

Savor the abhorrent snow.

And perhaps, one day,

Live.

While I Breathe, I Hope

Rain streams down my cheek,

My shoulder.

My head is filled with visions of

My fantasy life.

Twisted metal yearns without respite

For my blood.

My skin grows a film of green

Like my eyes.

I sit and wonder what event shattered

My icy heart.

What is next as I travel around

My hot sun?

All that matters is while I breathe,

I hope.

Dum spiro,

Spero.

Except Everything

Temptation moves forward

Yet I remain standing

Lost in distraction,

Searching for meaning.

 

When autumn dies

My petals fray and wither

And my heart ices over

In its atypical ovoid shape.

 

Nothing stands in my way,

Except everything.

 

I start to scream into the night

But the rushing wind

Bleeds the sound until it shatters.

Nothing is as it seems.

 

The lies of others follow me

As I run blindly into the ocean,

Unafraid of drowning,

Devoid of emotion.

 

Nothing gets to me,

Except everything.

 

I want to become lost,

Lost in a dream world,

Lost in warmth,

Lost in breath.

 

But alas I have been found

By the dark hunter

Who calls himself reality

And dares to defy my realm.

 

Nothing sees through me,

Except everything.