the fire blossoms fight on

whispering winds
whipping winds
cutting near silently through clothing
identical.

The sun is on fire and is spreading
to the flowers in the garden.
so green, yet so red and orange and hot

it just hasn't hurt enough yet i suppose
so i dig my hands in deep,
turning the soil


these steps lead to nowhere but the empty garden
the glass rock and sheet rock lay in piles not ten feet out
and the fire blossoms fight on.

everywhere i've been is identical.

waiting for the night to slip in
quick as flies, swarming like bees
all around like a shallow grave.

my friends call like church bells ring
i can count on them for that
but they call for everyone
they expect to be heard but never hear a response
customs outweigh reason.

I go remembered and then forgotten
how i was but not who i am.

gravel is the ground

smashed wide open scattered white splinters to the wind and ground
red fluid flowing from the socket
the pink is pale is white
the limber is stiff.

this house built is flimsy
this banks has no safes
this ground is only gravel.
hard and unsteady.

defeat.

with data i can't delete 2: water everywhere

and now i see them get up
they depart with a content and worried look
its coming. the current is grounding out
the black wire draws the charge from the machinery.

the ghost in the gears is pulling levers now
its written out a million times
the actors merely playing the parts
single line by single line
at the end of each line is another on a blind turn
only those off the track see it.

poor bastard. poor bitch.
it will never be what you want
it can't.
the infatuation has it's own suicidal agenda.
the bleach knows what will lose its color
the river knows who
will be caught out, caught up
called out, drug under.

unforgiving water
unforgiving heavy water everywhere.


i wish i could call home
but the number's been changed a hundred times
and no one picks up anyways.

with data i can't delete

i can see the look in their eyes saying "temporary."
But i can't say anything to them. The same thing i imagined
i would have wanted to be told then
exactly what i would have ignored.
that blinding flash and the light blindness that takes so long to fade out.

only when it has faded out do i recognize the pattern
and of course it's way too late.

She looks at him with subdued fire in her eyes
careful and somewhat guarded, arms not protecting her chest.
appearing to be free and willing to try it all.

I've heard it said that one should
"never regret anything, for at one time it was exactly what you wanted."
and i suppose i don't, but i'm so nostalgic that i can't let anything go.
everything that was lost, the roads not taken, the roses not smelled along the way.

Everytime i see someone remotely resembling her i spiral
contortion too fast to lock mine eyes on anything.

i catch glimpse of the couple and they are outlined in fire
they are burning blue-white hot and i sense the fire will burn out soon.
i fear for them, pity them, envy them.
their infatuation won't last, that's how it goes
they will stray and forget to forgive

he will long for her for years and remember the littles things
she couldn't possibly recount
the passing glances, the near-silent murmer she makes asleep after sex
the glassy look of her eyes after drinks.

Hey! Don't put any hard work into it that you want a return on.
this is fleeting, this is temporal, this is not built to last.
if you open up too far, that door will never fully close.
and it will hurt
and it will haunt
and it will never let you sleep soundly.

i see her face and hear her voice in my dreams
and it's been longer without than it ever was with
last night her sister told me that she never liked me either.
it was a dream, it lasted but a second, and my day is ruined
the cloudy shitty weather is so bright
its time to find a stone to take comfort under

its crushing, its caving in
its never ending

its heavy, its so heavy
its never ending.

if it was only her, i know
it'd be almost bearable
but her and all the others.

its her and it is all the others.

this memory capacity i try to grow
fills up with data i can't delete

the wrecks that closed the roads

one day I slept on the warm sand when
I heard the calls for help from the sea.
all the lovers with their drunken roses
all the wrecks that closed the roads
all the reasons to jump off of roofs.


there seemed to be no way to ignore the wailing
I felt driven to answer the sirens from the sirens
and stayed stuck on the sand where I stood
from the beginning of the mad season until
the middle of manic non-reasons that
started the end of treason against a heart.


the weight of the waiting for something new
pulled too hard against the pool of stagnant blood
impulsive, i took the chance, to her it seemed
repulsive, like more flooding in the land of floods


sometimes, sometimes.


sometimes the times when we speak
are the best times to shut the fuck up and listen
listen hard
with all five of our senses
and come up with our best intentions
to find a better set of directions.


instead of following our blinded and drunken hearts.
instead of ignoring the advice of the stones
who have recorded our lives in their lines
who have our history written in their faces


the sand, the seas, the stones have seen it unfold
a million times and million more untold
the seas try waving us away from the stoney cliffs
to keep us from crashing on the stoney reef
to keep our bodies from lying on the beaches in pieces
shattered like the husks of rowboats put to sea in haste.
shattered like icicles
falling from mountaintops to buidlings and shoppes


but then would we be human?

calls me through the sussurus

deadtime
blackout
waiting for the buzz of the world
to trick me to sleep again

shut them out, shut the world off.
the stifling monologue
calls me through the sussurus

whipping speed winds
whipping boy on the post cries out for mercy
passes out
comes to on a new day with most wounds scared

hungry executioner, time
willing taker, earth
the twins eager, inviting
never sated.

the center of the forest bears no new tall trees

the woods are alive
the leaves are talking and jumping as the seeds
of their fathers are consumed
the center of the forest bears no new tall trees
saplings stripped bare
trampled underfoot on muddy trails

light spattered on stones
life scattered in the stones
moving water is always out of sight
birds are flitting behind another tree
watching, reporting, calling

blind insects careening, swarming
moving by instinct rather than senses
higher spiders preying, praying
lying and waiting for accident.