senses

ode to lullaby
its your in your riffs
the way the melodies detox my
nightmares of you
in the way the gun shells still over populate my purses
from those days we spent
shooting rhymes at eachother
stars dont haunt anymore
this is what without you smells like

dear

unfold me along the lines in your mercury
the posion detaching itself from you
allow me to fill the hollow spaces in your curves
the memory of me alone fills you with aggression
you breathe me in on your own
inflamed upon the touch to your lungs
let us be
embelish your beat around my arm
your tone becoming my breath
seeping in through pores untouched in ages
let me hold you
accept the distance and long
oh long for the time we shared
please, do not hate me.
please, let yourself love me.

night sand

mrs. cellophane shoulda been my name, mrs. chellophane, shoulda been my name
becuase you can walk right by me, look right though me, and never know im there.

alone and invisible should be synomyms
no matter how much tv we watch
cant say the words on tips of tounges
repressing ideas that run in my blood
the weight of ur scent
digests in my nostrils to form sneezes of you
the deconstruction has begun

so layering on shells like hermits
finding places inbetween palms
falling from ur fingers
the shore will be different.

spun round too fast
freezing envelops times we woulda coulda shoulda been my name mrs. cellophane.

Trees

pine
infects
shields winds that carry news of sons
infecting
earlobes
with sounds similar
to your voice.

crush

an old oak grows in my heart
its branches are reaching
out
to you
please
i beg you
let them envelop your
inner secrets and
store them in
there holy
caverns of
bark and
wick

let the leaves and buds
grow
with the blood pumping
through me
let the sun make us one
and the water keep us strong

there is an old oak
growing in my heart
will you watch it grow
from the outer rim of space
or
rather
will you
blossom
with
me?

Golden Gate

& i miss this moment the way the son misses having glasses to shield itself from the harsh rays of reality we have come to live by.

& i long for the wind on my face the way im sure the tops of towers wish to be caressed by the same hands that built and birthed them.

& i miss the view and the way the sun teases your eyes as it falls over the edge of the bay at the end and the way the stars make up for it by being utterly climatic.

& i long for timeshares with this bridge on tours where we freeze but understand the beauty of california because we left it

news today

and its like
your saying it and i can hear the words come out of your mouth to my
ears
by way of computers and techno ideas i will never understand
but this
this is too much

its like the rain is falling upside down
and im drowing in the air that surrounds
and the little typed words keep giving me
more and beacoup
bad news
pas encore
pas encore
pas encore
its too cold this season
for your letters.