lucid dreams
dreams in color
informative dreams
wet dreams
scary dreams
dreams made with sentences
dreaming with intent to sentence
dreams of innocence
flying dreams
dying dreams
day dreams
teleapathic dreams,
alllll kiind of dreams..
forest, one day i'm gonna get me a boat and get off this island,
forest?...
"first things first said the queen!"
no! the proof is just pudding,
the sentence is ever changeable in combonations of 26 to infinity!
ease your minds interpretation and lossen your grip,
here i hold a mirror.
*walk's in mirror*
"interpretation is a level of a game," said alice to the deck of cards. the cards frowned.
they shuffled, and alice walked with a stick that looked like this(?)
the picture broke into pieces of a puzzle and then I woke up, I think.

"harsh judgments"
i think your fat
as soon as the words were out of my mouth
i regretted them
but how was i supposed to know
he was 450lbs
a lovely person at heart
hidden under the layers of flesh
but i didnt see until it was too late
i pushed until all he could do was conform
scheduling the surgery
and once successful
we were happy
but that was shortlived
he slowly slipped away
my desires were satisfied
and he died a thin man

stretched across
the ample roundness
curves revealed
accented slightly
by the too tight tshirt

After a while, it becomes the point.

talking to you again is like
...
something i can't describe
i can't quite put my finger on it
and i dont know how to feel
day to day
about it
or even hour to hour
(minute to minute?)
aside from a few snide comments
made to make me
feel guilt, somehow
about protecting myself
and my feelings
the depths of which i would never dream of sharing with you
you're your old self
the back & forth
easily flowing conversation
the witty banter
teasing
giving as good as you're getting
i've missed it
i've missed you
time heals all wounds?
i'll never know for sure







confused
a bit apprehensive
not sure where this is going
if anywhere
everything happens for a reason
i still don't fully fathom
the reason for this?
we spoke of everything in time
shared our losses, hopes, dreams
laughed, cried, counseled, teased, cajoled, encouraged
little did we know
i'd one day grab the chalk
and put you in the losses column
breaking my heart in the process
taking the step you couldn't
or wouldn't
doesn't absolve you

giving in
first steps in ears from the notion
echos dependant on your ability to know when to give
sewing machines split cloth in dots of color
into ink of marks
inside the keys hit blind by the light of the screen
with prints
they see through
never fully seeing through. sometimes

inside a rabble rouser speaks of rakes in a silent sort
thinking of knowing,
answers,
flashing on the eyes so i look

sorts the stars by force
not for sorts,
for inward history
knowing whats important
because its defenition,
be right.. what's up with be right?
well be right likes flowers
really?
for real
well, there wasn't a sound how'd you know the tree fell?
i was full of water.
stop dreaming!
how, your wishing coin.
you are too.
i know, its apealing enticing
sought flowers to absorb to give with no intrest in having
missed defentions of my past now rippling coin
stop confusing
fade to black!

to give?
to live humble and tackle with tact when games lose the essence of fun,
well, with all i know
its dark in here for a reason can you see that?

and the flower kept going not knowing why the ground broke
not knowing is exactly why
sad in that respect, knowing we share the ground
and not knowing what is or could become of roots
blind growing seperating
giving up,
in,
to look and see losses,
adapting and seperating.. why forever echoing,
i don't know.

maybe if I will it I can make contractions start.

I remember thinking if I ran in slow motion and made the sound I could run like Steve Austin and Jamie Summers.

those were the days

talking to you again is like
...
something i can't describe
i can't quite put my finger on it
and i dont know how to feel
day to day
about it
or even hour to hour
(minute to minute?)
aside from a few snide comments
made to make me
feel guilt, somehow
about protecting myself
and my feelings
the depths of which i would never dream of sharing with you
you're your old self
the back & forth
easily flowing conversation
the witty banter
teasing
giving as good as you're getting
i've missed it
i've missed you
time heals all wounds?
i'll never know for sure







confused
a bit apprehensive
not sure where this is going
if anywhere
everything happens for a reason
i still don't fully fathom
the reason for this?
we spoke of everything in time
shared our losses, hopes, dreams
laughed, cried, counseled, teased, cajoled, encouraged
little did we know
i'd one day grab the chalk
and put you in the losses column
breaking my heart in the process
taking the step you couldn't
or wouldn't
doesn't absolve you






picking at a scab?
scratching an itch?
how very flattering
for you
regardless
it's counterproductive
and not fair to me
neither is the game playing
yes, i know
how to win
but it's not fair to me
why would i want to be your friend
when all my respect for you
went out the window
with your first lie
so while i know
the snide comments
mean you've missed me
i also know you'd sooner visit times square
in a tutu
than admit to me
that i mean something

unexpected were the turns this highway made, what pain
would come, the days following the rain
the sky’s sorrow wept from the pacific
that makes the fertile hillsides green
and fills the lake to the brim, breaking the dam
along whose top the highway twisted
i pounded the steering wheel, double-fisted
changed routes

the world is too damn big, he pouts
and one day the ocean will boil away
and this rock will be engulfed in the sun
it was never about us, anyway
we were never the bosses here
just bubbles, beautiful, rainbowy bubbles floating upwards
spiraling through this big, noisy, colorful world
in time, they touch, coalesce in strange new shapes
and break

the trees ease the thought in me.
on channel one its snowing,
I found new knowledge today and discarded useless flakes
I'm into recycling and so goes the story of garbage
there's harm in me, regret,
i think i broke my knuckle.

It was a solid closet,
the toughest piece of dead tree my fist ever met.
He didn't budge.
Sent a candle flying into the woods,
unlit of course.
There wasn't a sound.
I mumbled, then shook my head.
Viewed the boxes and asked myself a question.
Another chapter, humbling strength
One day I'll take over this body!
thats rediculious, letting the chips fall is becoming easier in my old age,
I don't think its a choice.
And so the leaf broke from the branch once again.. the beautiful death,
Forget ten and two,
Driving in and out, f*cking my closet,
The skeletons dacne!
Enchanting for a second..
a candel flys ripping my mind, regret.
Brain matter burns
the neverending story
Recycling.
Relating rot of decay I see and know.
Know the same pain behind all of your eyes, only one part
Without, the process is not..
Normality??
And the leaf shaddered in the soil among branches.

the monster
the rose vine blooms
crimson blossoms lure the innocent
flattering lips and flirtatious eyes
dressed in her finest
at the height of beauty
alluring and lush
she beckons
to drink of her lusty petals
forward and unashamed
her bold colors flash
catching his eye
reaching out he grasps
the flower in his hands
tears the flesh and crushes
the thing in his palm

images flashing through my mind
groups of people
hazardous materials
sound machines
post it notes
snapshots
blurry and vivid
there must be a connection
but where how why
do you know
have you seen them
they are all gone and left me
behind with faded nightmares
and ragged dreams
feebly clinging to reality
i clutch her picture
and pray for answers
to unvoiced questions

love and hate
black and white to discriminate
like
that thin gray line
a thightrope walker needs
not blurry anymore
balances safely