A Push From Negative

In spite of
The height of
This catastrophe

It might of,
In light of
Elasticity,

Come off
That some of
It beneficiary

Minus tons of
The run off
Of contradictory

Stolen Reflection

And if the light should pass
Through shutters shuttering
I shall listen to it's tales
And project it's uttering

For the gate way to me
Is wide in it's aperture
Specific are the words
Of the imagine I capture

And what a sweet release
Warmth of life, now frozen
This is the current state
A frame in time, chosen

So blinded with a flash
I steal a pose away forever
Glorify me on walls and desks
I will not lie now nor ever

And of the many many words
I give to you a thousand
A story far beyond physical
Snap a finger to you loud then

Cherish me or rip me up
I'm an art, an inspiration, a laugh
Developing to remind you all
I'm much more than photographs

The Rush in The Name of Art

Rediscovered in a voice of old entries
My lungs shake itself of aging dust
And with that, brings renewed faith
In words, inspired by natures of rust

Fiercer then, than future thoughts
Empowered by mere confusion
A search for strength, or just its curtains
State my claims before the accusing

And the body I dwell served me well
Through my mouth, I made foundations
That was me, in all my glory
The rumbling, like train stations

Finger the bookmarks I laid away
Transfer it straight into my heart
Shake the basket of words that are left
Feel the rush in the name of art.

A Little Pain, A Literature Gain

We all bleed sometime
Let's get it over with
Caught red wristed
Searching for that word smith

This demanding page
With it's judgmental lines
Trace the healed scars
With a cheap bottle of wine

Breathe it all in
Until it runs our veins
We spread upon the paper
Like water down a drain

It all comes through hard
Smoked out by our desire
For truth and for beauty
So set my lungs on fire

Hush now please
For this piece is done
Twice we glance
What this room has spun

Lay dry in my hands
You are safe my friend
I'll call upon your services
When my heart beats again

Affairs With Summer

As it drops much below freezing,
I still find it most pleasing
To watch her smile in my mind’s eye

A view so embedded
To forget is to be beheaded
So I give my scarf a tighter tie

To feel her excited breath
Would make for a happy death
I fear no ice that causes my slip

My cold dry cheeks
Desperately seeks
The warmth of her soft wet lips

So the wind pushes rough
At this man, so tough
Attempts to put memories to slumber

Shake, I might
But smile, despite
I'll still remember my affairs with Summer

Way Before I Do

I dissect the bracelet around my right wrist, composed of red strings intertwined and braided into a strong stable design. I trace the weave, in and out, through and around, all the way to where the neat organized pattern ends and where few strings continue; 4 strings to be exact. You see, due to the erosion cause by the frictions of life, many strands dissolved with time and soon I’m sure the rest will follow.

She sits at the far edge of my bed with her bare back towards me; blending into all the items of my room as my focus holds heavy on this bracelet of mine. The silence plays tricks on me; no longer can I count the minutes gone by as I lose myself in these complicated thoughts; these intertwining red strings. I remember the day that I tied it on. A girl had just left me and I was feeling the void; I felt unwanted, unneeded and in essence; undeserving of anything.

I was told that the human mind understands more clearly the tangible elements of life so instead of looking in the mirror and telling myself that I was worth more than she’d ever know I made and wore this bracelet. I figured that every time I'd feel like I’m next to nothing these red strings around my wrist will remind me otherwise.

And now it dangles weakly like a man on the side of a bridge holding on for dear life with only a few fingers; begging for a little more connection. Soon he will fall and so will this bracelet and I will have to adjust to seeing nothing more than the bare skin of my right wrist; meaningless and simple.

A blurry figure crawls to me and my eyes detail her slowly until she’s recognized by my heart. Her hair soft, her eyes beautiful, “Come on babe. All your friends are waiting for you at the show.”

Maybe the bracelet isn’t dying at all. It just knows when it’s not needed anymore, way before I do.

Is This it?

Is this it?
That which I've never known?
Like advertisement of things
I've never owned?
And I speak in tones
Cause that's the difference, see
A form of deliverance
The true meaning in free

From the back seat of my truck
To the beginning of my luck
Drawing hearts on windows
That suddenly have fogged up
Until lips interrupt
As pleasant as it may be
There are times when speaking
And kissing will simultaneously
Occur

But which would I prefer?
I guess any and all
When it comes to the likes of her
And my heart concurs
Of intentions from this girl
Enough so to make me,
Four months ago, hurl
So hello world

Accept me again, I’m here
And oh dear, in fear
Of deception like veneers
Makes me grip on this wheel
Looking for exits to steer
But those eyes calm the soul
And if this ends then behold
Isn’t life but just these moments?
The rest is just dirt roads

Yeah, this is it!
It always was
The sweat and tears
And the occasional blood
And I owe the step forwards to all the duds
For all the bonds as thick as mud
So judge not and let grudges rot
Me, mistakes have taught
Higher than the things I’ve bought

And as it sits
The answer hits
Yeah this is it
Of course this is it