Lay, Lie, Laid…


I’m laying in the floor, laughing. Closing my eyes so tightly that I see stars, actual stars in the sky.

Because I’m dreaming, of the moment my eyes met yours and I couldn’t look away.

Not for a minute, did I ever believe I wasn’t in good hands, the way they move in time to match the rhythm.

Oh my heart, its staccato beat, like the sound of a million warriors taking over the jungle.

Of a mess, my mind used to be, right before you kissed my lips, the ones aching to be touched.

Lashed and lapped, heated before they cool in the day’s moonlight under your blanket, of stars. 

While I’m laughing and dreaming and laying on your floor. 

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Fresh Start


What’s to fear in beginning again? Starting over, a chance to reinvent. 

It’s a gift, perhaps? To wipe away the grime of yesterday. 

To forget what has been said, say it again, this time because you know!

Tell the story, differently? Make a hero out of a faliure- make beauty in the midst of a stain.

Reinvent the past, it didn’t really turn out that way. Dreams and visions know one really knows- start again and be her, the one from your stories.

Be fearless, be determined, be breathtaking, and true.

Be smart, be funny, but most of all, just be you.

Nothing…


Has the world gone deaf? It seems no one is listening. There’s no important message, no earth shaking need, no desire to fix it- only empty space- a vacuum of nothingness

While I sit and scream and cry and plead, someone has turned down my volume- hit mute and whispered, must flee

Took my pen and my page and my voice and set them all a flame. Burned them into ash and scattered them to lay

In a pile of useless trash, left on a curb, a long forgotten playground of yesteryear’s full days- where speakers played on blast, the sounds of life and love and joy

The very day before, someone turned down the sound and simply walked away

Costly Mistake…


You can only tell them so much of the truth; all of it is just too much. 

Believing the lie is easier, for everyone– including you.

Because, you’d have to accept that the first lie built all one-million of the lies that came thereafter. 

Starting over from that one, would mean your entire life is a lie. There’s no such thing as the truth, that is a lie.

Not a little-white-one, it’s huge. It’s so huge that it blocks out any small shred of the truth, any fragment, any sliver, any hope of. 

So you fake it all, everything. Every smile, every laugh, every wish-you-well. Every dream and desire, you say it never was, because it can’t be. 

And you mean it, deep down you always knew. In fact, you regret that anyone else ever knew any part of it all. Because now, you don’t even own the deepest part of what was your truth.

You gave it to them, to wield as a sword. To cut you in two whenever they want. You sold yourself, cheaply for a dream, a fantasy, a wish. 

And now, you can’t afford to buy it back. 

Brother o’ Brother…


So now your scared? And we all have to pick up the pieces? Broken, shattered, splattered everywhere.

Your children, your mother, other family too, why don’t we matter that much to you? 

A needle, a pipe, a pill, somehow they have the answer that fits the bill. 

That cooks your mind, paranoia’s best bud, haphazardly setting up shop just to leave you buried in the mud.

And we roll around in it too, because everyone is trying to save you, to save themselves from a lifetime of regret? Or remorse? 

Do you really think you can still blame this all on their divorce? For how many years? Decades? A millinium or two? 

It didn’t effect just you! Don’t you remember? Can’t you still see me sitting there with my tear-filled blank stare? Trying to piece it all back, my mind still not allowing the slack it needs to just take a breath.

But, you…

You don’t really care because to you:

Meth is breath, is meth, is your 

last 

breath. 

Ghosted…


I have looked for you in places I know you’ve never been. Followed the imaginary scent of a perfume I’ve never smelled. Searched the banks of deserted memories for just a hint of you. 

I have dreamt of you in places I have never been. Followed my broken mind down pathways of cobbled stone to doors that open nowhere. 

I have whispered in your ear a thousand wishes of tomorrow. Followed your voice through southern sticky air to kiss your lips I’ve never touched. 

I have slept in your arms under star studded skies for nights that have no end. Followed the rhythm of your heart to your river’s bend with open flooded gates that can’t be closed. 

I have given in to your desires and smothered out my own for a glimpse of reality’s flesh and bone. Followed a rabbit down a deep dark hole to delerium’s madness of my tarnished soul. 

Slight of Hand…


She hated magicians, couldn’t stand the thoughts of their trickery. Her eyes stayed skeptically trained on the hands, usually her favorite.

 They don’t lie. If you pay attention, all emotion filters right through them to the tips. 

She had to sit on hers, now. Fight them from touching. Twitching under her thighs, sweltering from the Summer’s relentlessness. 

Could she pull the cloth from the table? Expose all hidden there. Pull the animal from its hat? A lioness, no playboy bunny. Could she put the sawed pieces together? No longer halves of a whole.

Everyone knows the assistant is always second place. 

The echo of the applause, discarded roses crushed on an empty stage, her only encore. 

Her Grace…


Without her the days were five hundred miles long, torturous, and anticlimactic. 

It was impossible to fill the void. Even the fields of flowers wilted without her sun. 

She tried to fill the days- idle hands, she could hear an old warning in the empty wave of Summer heat. 

She called an old standby, lackluster words- worthy of moments and not years. No long-lasting life lessons.

She turned pages in her books, without reading them- it was all for effect. 

She sank into warm waters, not enough light to float- praying her lungs would suddenly collapse.

She made love, in cold sheets- closing her eyes to see someone else. 

She wished for an hourglass, with only one grain of sand- a promise of soon. 

She sat next to an inky black lake, one reflection looming there- a threat she would not forget. 

She yearned for a dreamer’s posthumous illusion, a life yet lived- a war-torn period, an ancient history. 

Dandelion wishes kissed her love parched lips, sticking to the afternoon heat.

Ahead, down a forgotten-gravel-salted-dirt-road to an open field of wildflowers thirsty for laughter she fell back to lay there, to stay there, to wait. 

For you…


That one up above you, that’s me. I left it there because I’m dying inside for you to see the curve of my hips, the dip at the waist, the v of my neck, every one of my secret places.

To feel your fingers against my skin, let them bend and sink inside again and then again in your special rhythm.

Your darkened resigned eyes, your unforgiving pouty lips, your forgotten caution tossed out in to the wind.

For a night you won’t soon forget but never did intend to walk away from after that first day- who would?

I never could, a million times I’d stay,

I would stay, I would always stay.

Take it Easy…


There is no light there in the depths of your can’t-break-away-dead-pan-stare. This dangerous game you intend to play, it’s cat-and-mouse and I’ve never been one to walk away. 

It’s one hundred and ten degrees in this little hole in the wall down-town bar and his this-is-my-property-white-buttoned-down-arm is wrapped around my waist. 

Crystal clear baby blues make unspoken promises and you just can’t tear yours away.

From my carelessly uncrossed legs and always black lace. A round for the ladies, pick your pleasure, have another one on me. In fact, have more than one have three.

Strikes of the match and light your cigarette just to get some place alone. Where we can meet and discuss a time when it could be just us. 

For a moment, I’ll let you look and see how the look on your face makes me want to come- back here again and again. 

For a drink and a grin in my direction, a night with just the right friends, in just the right place, a nowhere bar, to drink at just the right pace.