Pick Your Poison

plugged in for the first time
writhing, pushing higher, spreading into infinity
every inch enraptured
this is vastly deeper than i'd ever seek to swim
though i'm wrapped up in cosmic release

every emotion triggered in cacophony
i am pulsing light spreading warmth
deeper, higher, deeper,
into the vast expanse
of every in-between

tear soaked
blood drenched heart
flooding my soul with fire, love,
and unending entropy
as i cum amidst the stars

what sorcery might have inspired this voyage;
be it of my inner channel,
or an incantation of these interwoven souls
brought to the peak of exaltation
in this respite from what we'd have ever thought life could be

Falling star, like a kiss from the moon,
Left its lavender trails;
Now my winter is frozen with delight
I will do absolutely everything I can possibly do to maintain my creative momentum. I will make a thousand song full of promise that just barely fall short of adequacy; i will erase each one of these. I will draw and paint and sing and cry and fall apart, because this is the only life I have to do it in.

Into Spirals Filtered Space

Back into a world where the walls aren't supposed to be moving
and the colors wont swirl for sight,
I press my skin against the cool surface
of the mirror with delight.
Returned from space, from atmosphere,
from floating in the sky;
I could tell you of my journeys
if my thoughts could reach your eye.

There had been new magic in the journey within,
shared between the smiles and intensity.
Several humans met in congregation in the confines of my home;
we had soaked our wildness' in psychedelia,
and our empathies in more predictable chemical sanctuaries.

Ascension's chords were plucked freely in the essence of our light
as all reflections pass through rainbows towards the sweet of abyss of time and space.

A toast rang forth from lovers' lips
(whose intimacy is of the soul rather than the flesh)
to send forth with pleasured incantation
the conceptual mobility of the spirit
trickling through our every layer.

Deeper and stronger and ever more drenched in the colors light composes, 
there was a surreal sense of heat from the morning's sunshine, 
despite the hour preceding dawn 
and the moon deceived by clouds; 
eyelids sealed shut and tabla drums softly splintering the silence, 
feeling far less alone in these visions of space than one might predict in such isolation, 
being cradled by the dancing vibrance of patterned hallucinations. 

It had become so profoundly simple to sink deeper into the unknown crevasses of the mind,
to speak with the secrets held down under our functional comprehension
and to commune with the remnants of our celestial existence.

Here were visions drenched in beauty, 
steeped in the rawness of intrinsic lusciousness. 
Stretching limbs had found their comforted balance,
flexing spirit shared by the resounding voice of guidance.

And although the sun never rose,
night turned back into day
and these astral subjects fell back into their bodies.

Now and here back into the flow of days preceding such journeys,
we had all returned to sobriety
accompanied by fresh gratitudes.


The fear was a catalyst, my endurance the test. 
Bubbling over with everything; all of it feelings to the bone. 
The blessings of a righteous path might accrue with great momentum, 
and I'm praying to my sweet higher goddess that the dosage was correct. 

I asked to receive the truth, 
and it hurts like its inside; 
there is no other way to get closer to earth, 
for my instincts lead me to hallowed ground. 

There are many lives I could have lived, 
perhaps there are many more still left to unravel. 
I feel it all. 
I feel it. 
When I'm with her, I never need to hide from the pain. 
There's no reason to run away and cower in madness when she is around, 
and I am healed in the light that spills from her every crevasse. 

Γκρεμό του γίνει

I've been waiting to soar all along
but have yet to take off.
Grounded still in this blanketing realm,
my wings shake off
the tiny beads of sweat
that pull the cold from the wind.
The river Styx bleeds on for miles
before my quivering claws.

I will leave here some day;
to take flight for the first time,
soaring restlessly away
into new potentials
of peril and delight.

Breathing in the Stygian vapors
of this dark flow,
I remain confused.
Without memory to cohere my sight
to circumstance,
what understanding might inform
the journey ahead?

Alone and consumed with the impulse to launch,
my beak gnashes nervously.
No self, no reason for such desires,
it feels as though I've been tensing for flight
for an open infinity.

I want to know
what I am.

I've been waiting to soar all along
but have yet to take off.

Bound in Gossamer

A Prayer

House cleansed, 
protection shrouded, 
I raise my eyes to the stars.
I pray to you spirits, 
please cradle my hopes 
and grant me the will to endure. 
I've been running too long, 
hiding away from what hurts me. 
It is time to move on; 
to put in the righteous work 
towards healing
so I can continue to live. 
Too many needless sacrifices 
bathed in beige sorrow; 
now is the crossroads that 
I am to traverse. 
No more hiding. 
No more tragedy 
without reason. 
Time to hold my power within 
so that it might grow 
enough to spread, share, and prosper. 
Forgiveness will come in time.

It begins now.

Shadows in a Bottle

whispered faces morphing out of focus;
there are one too many expressions shifting over the contours,
far too many people inside until i lose my sight altogether...

i am in the festival space,
running in circles,
furry pants still shield my legs.
there are stages all around this place,
amphitheaters filled with hippie folk.
for some untold reason there's an air
of discontent swelling dangerously
in the anxious crowds.
some odd mixture of feeling at home
and total isolation creeps up my spine;
i am reminded of being lost in the desert,
scared and lonely,
nothing to do but wait for the drugs
to leave me to my shaken peace.

then it's her:
everyone i've loved tightly crammed
into one passing sojourner.
it glances at me without concern
and passes by briskly.
i run up to inflict a greeting,
but by the time i approach
it is only just a stranger
that looks startled at my ferocity.
but... i saw you.
i saw you all,
squirming through one face,
maybe fighting to get out.

and then suddenly i'm awake again,
eyes wide,
deliciously grateful that it was just a dream.
my heart is pounding
and i tell myself to breath.

emptied bladder leads me back under the covers,
and i'm praying not to return.

I've seen you again...

...in my nightmares. It wasn't for long, you didn't have much to say. You just passed right by; I suppose the worst part is that it wasn't you. It was in my head after all, it was my own construction of these fears, expectations, and memories. But just that split-second glance we shared within the realm of my subconscious was more than enough to spin me into rubble.
I wish it didn't matter. I want to be free from these feelings of lack, need, remorse, and spite. I want to truly actualize the knowledge that its over and done, that it was wrong and it is time to move forward. To actually forgive and then re-utilize the resources that I'm wasting worrying about this.
It is insane to recollect how often and intensely I wanted to leave, wanted out, tried to move on only to get sucked right back into your vortex of instability. It was so clear then that we were wrong, that there was no more moisture left in our soil. But still, through all of it, you persevered. You didn't give up, you kept the vicious cycle going for far too long. I was too incapacitated to escape the pull of your gravity.
Now that I've attained my freedom and you aren't asking me to come back, why the fuck do I still feel tortured? My only guess is that I haven't yet found my own stability or rhythm; I haven't yet healed and put good graces back into the momentum of my future success. Either way, this is my struggle for now.
I hope my brain no long shows me your face, but if it does... well, I guess it's just more inspiration to work harder, endure this maelstrom, and eventually work towards righteousness. I resent you and miss you still, and these are clear signs that I have a lengthy road to travel ahead.


feathers call to me in the night.
brittle wings of fury's flight,
cackling lows and screeching height,
glow of moon reflection's spite.

the devil breaths fire in my dreams.


Burnt. Out... 

Contortion. Dillusion... 

Dopamine, I need you! Come back little smile, for i'm without a clue. 

There are two sides to each vibration; attraction and repulsion. 
How am I going to ride the line? 


Gratitude is Goddess
and I'm dying to return.

Magic is real
under her wisdom'd eye.

Healing righteous woman,
clears the fog away from Sun.


**Editor's Note: The following words and phrases are not meant to communicate anything other than an experience that strongly remained within the author's thoughts since its unfolding. All the (parentheses) are meant to convey his current thoughts and analysis in retrospect.**

adrenaline, tactile euphoria, and spiritually overwhelming connections 
all pushed against the membrane of my spirit from the inside, out. 
here i was, freshly returned from utopia and bathed in hope and raw entropy, 
coming back with such passion that no boundaries seemed to stand; 
her a vessel of the absolute, revealing untouchable graces set like sacred stones 
behind a veil of crass wisdom and nearly virgin intention. 

i see now, in my mind's eye, loose vision bubbling to the surface.
removing layers of separtation by ejecting her shirt from 
its comfortable perch on her heaving bosom; 
fires spinning into space; 
sliding down several sets of stairs, mind blank and still writhing in pleasure.
a series of expressions that still fill my mind with wonder 
and my lungs with quick, rasping breath (even so far removed from them in time/space). 

i had entered her abode to share new healings, the kind that sparkle from ones 
fingertips long after words, glances, and pheromones had faded away into the 
inky darkness of times since passed over. 
there was virtually no way 
i could have predicted the intensities that lay before us, short of sacrificing my every 
projection of the future towards the total and perfect surrender of expectation. 


i had climbed the precarious steps of her staircase, 
setting bare feet on her carpeted floor as i walked 
with excitement into her room. 

i remember being overcome with innocent yet ambitious 
hope; to share in some of the new lessons and experiences i had 
brought back from Burning Man, as they had swelled within 
my spirit like fire around tinder and newsprint, 
rising up towards the well-dried wood i'd left to incinerate. 

i had much to share, and even more to question; so i sought 
out the welcoming presence of another artist 
and fellow worshipper of light and reason. 

in a matter of moments, i knew that it was righteous to evoke
something specific, a moment of great healing that i had been lead 
through when i'd needed it most. 


i decided to conduct a healing session utilizing little more than 
my own rampant inspiration and thirty minutes of prior instruction.

i began by seating us facing each other, 
eye to eye, 
wing to wing, 
crossed-legged and comfortable in the room above our kitchen's smells. 

just as i had observed in my first encounter with this form of healing 
(now i can clearly recall my state of mind as i had sat in a different space in front 
of my own wondrous healer a few days before, 
her own words of healing piercing quickly into my soul, these punctures made 
all the more profound by that coy and candid smile creeping up the corners 
of her mouth as the tears fell down my cheeks.) 
i began to lead my friend and co-conspirator through the motions and rhythms 
of what i now know as 'touch therapy' (greatly similar to EFT for those so enlightened). 
fingers danced across our respective scalps, chins, brows, collar bones, 
and all the other points of tactile energy so proscribed by my previous sherpa. 

words seeped out of my chest, echoed and relived by my fellow traveler; 
the flow was stronger than i had anticipated: 
profound conceptualizations of sacred channels, glowing endurances, 
heartfelt motivations, and awakened hopes resounded and reflected 
between these two hearts trapped away in this tiny hidden space 
that only a spiral staircase could reach. 
i would have been amazed with my own ability to focus and continue on
if i had not been so entranced by these words as they filled 
me with a strength i had once thought farcical to expect.
this call-and-response had evolved into a 
and beyond that, no words can describe the depth of the 
emotions that reared their ancient tusks now to graciously violate
our vulnerabilities, penetrating long-calloused fears without 
shame or any other cosmic hindrance. 

i cannot remember whether there were tears running down her face; 
in either case, i had apparently summoned something of great significance 
from deep inside of her. 
i too felt lighter and heavier than ever before. 

buzzed on the high of eloquence and spiritual epiphany by this point, 
i don't think, in retrospect, i could have left that room just then; 
the session had ended, the final words had filled the room 
and promptly let the silence resume. 
but there was a crackling heat still spinning, 
a fire i was intrinsically inclined to explore.
(i suppose i've found too many fantastic moments of 
sensual pleasure resulting from chaos and uninhibited whimsy 
to ever shy away after such revelations; the mere potential for 
something more finite developing from this interaction kept my 
body firmly planted to the interior of that oddly-shaped room 
that encased her sanctuary. 
my libido had stirred and was now in control, unbeknownst to me.)

looking back, it's hard to imagine myself standing up right then after 
that final blessing, giving her an immense hug, and hightailing my posterior 
back down to the ground floor of the house where i would find my own room. 
i suppose i may have missed another powerful moment, or perhaps 
i would have set myself up for some alternative path now impossible to comprehend.
if i had left, though, i might have saved my future selves a plethora 
of  wonderings and wet dreams; no sense now in conceiving the inconceivable.
in either case, though, i stayed in that room, ready to explore further, (touch), 
play harder, (touch), learn new things, (touch), travel to new levels. 

i suddenly found myself cradling her in my arms, half-naked, 
with the sultry aroma of her own excitement rising up from her loins 
into the thick heat of the air surrounding us.
(had i really removed her shirt so easily and without protest?). 
fingers now danced along new canvasses, skin beckoning 
further sensations, alight with whatever sparkle of inspiration 
spiritual or sensual or somewhere unmapped between them. 

there was no conscious beckoning towards any resolute goal, 
although my reflections point their weary eyes at my own 
unquenchable thirsts for passion and conquest. 
at a certain point all i could smell was her arousal, 
all i could feel was the eventual conjoining of our mutual pleasure. 
i was breathless and primal, pushed into such a state by the 
effusion of our pheromones tangling into something unshakable. 

i had entered the threshold of her dwelling tasked only with 
a mission to revel within the spiritual realm; now i was chained to my spine here 
in the crucible of this aching physicality. 
there was no mechanism of restraint within me strong enough to 
abandon the ancient goals of my physiology, no hesitation 
with enough reason to dissuade my approach of satisfaction. 
for all intents and purposes i was effectively foaming at the mouth, 
waiting to sink in, (hoping to inspire her body to carry my genetic material 
into a new generation), tasting something lush just beyond the limits 
of my experience up until this point. 

it fills me with wonder that i still cannot muster one modicum of shame, 
even when my reflections turn to the outcomes of this brazen incursion. 

we eventually (time is difficult to discern as i replay these moments) 
split from a shared proximity, each collapsing in opposite directions, 
minds still reeling from all the possible paths we had nearly embarked upon. 
i was still unaware of my instinctual motivations to procreate, instead perceiving 
the previous ceremony as one of complete spiritual surrender 
(which it still very much was; such a sweet dichotomy of intentions).

it was then that something otherworldly happened: 
my limbs became engulfed with a kind of fire i had only rarely experienced 
in moments of mind-shattering psychedelic revelry, and every 
tendon, muscle, and vein shot this sacred energy into the palms of 
my outstretched hands. 

i was amazed. 
i felt enlightened, cast into the light of some greater sun than had before been seen. 
utilizing the self-choreographed motions of unlocking the chakra of my heart, 
i watched myself grasp onto this fire, shooting it out through the 
desire-drenched air; it cascaded throughout the room: back into my own palms, 
through her, through the walls, into the sunlight outside, into the atmosphere, 
towards the sun. 
i could sense this sacred fire in sight, feel, taste, and on levels i still have yet to understand. 
and then, after countless seconds saw this unforeseen channel engulfed, 
it was over. 

i was empty, not in the terms of feeling absent or unfulfilled, 
rather in the sense of being squeezed so tightly that all of my 
inner juices had pooled on the floor beneath me. 
i fell back, crumpled mass of a man, now unable to speak 
with any justice of these moments just endured. 

she was still in her own excitement, still brimming over with inspiration 
and that priceless sense of healing i had initially sought to share. 
there was no connection at this point between us; 
i had just orgasmed in ways i had not considered possible, 
whereas she was only getting started. 

after some time, i regained my ability to speak 
("oh wow... oh my fucking GOD... ohhhh.... shit!" i panted), 
and regained my sense of the space i still occupied within the room. 

it is difficult to remember what happened between this moment 
and the one that found me downstairs, back in my room, 
heart still beating like a djembe out of tune. 
i know that i had tried, rather unsuccessfully, to express 
some semblance of what i had just encountered. 
i also recall still smelling some faint hint of our pheromones 
lingering in the rich aromas of the house for hours after, 
although for all i know it was just a memory pushing further 
out of my recollection and into my nostrils. 

in any case, i had returned to the ground floor of our home 
with no badge of successful seduction, nor any solid rationalization 
of the distances i had just returned from. 


spooling skins, spilling hearts
encroaching on absurds
will share in open channels to 
approach new heights endured. 
the swan, the spine
now faint in mind,
you've helped awaken 
truths sublime; 
if love is heat 
and sorrow cool, 
i pray to find 
this sacred tool 
in fields away 
from prying hands, 
a tempest brews 
to sweep the lands 
that we might share 
like kings and court, 
for life is long, 
but youth is short.


typing this out as it flows from my fingertips, i am drenched in 
curiosity; what have i endured, what have i wrought, and 
what did she encounter in those few sweltering moments? 
i seek no answer to such ponderances, instead i thirst for more. 

my heart is full and empty, my senses are on fire. 
what next may come is a mystery i am prepared to 
be surprised by. 

and one word resounds throughout: love. 
love, unchained to libido, to expectation, to desire; 
unhooked by selfish hoarding or hopeless sacrifice. 
the love that i must follow into the darkness is the love 
that opens doors and levels walls. 


Correlations for Flow and Reasoning

battling with my own creations once they're given life, 
i profoundly feel that there's much more to learn than to teach. 
the plight of the wounded healer is all give and take, 
but it is getting harder to tell the difference. 
desiring the improbable is bittersweet; 
this great mystery of shielding my hopes from the pitfalls of expectation.

i can sense a thousand parallel outcomes in a single glance. 
this powerful creature beneath me. 
a moonlit road with no one, but happy alone. 
roaring madness nestled hidden in these mountains of ours. 
dancing just to feel it move through my veins. 
a touch, a taste, a glorified ray of sunshine exchanged without fear. 
haunting eyes floating into the night. 
a farewell that is so much more and less than departure. 
furious fire ripping my skin from new wounds. 
a sacrifice of the ego resounding through the atmosphere. 
white paint on every inch of my face while i smile into the mirror. 
so many areas in between. 

but a voice remains within, chanting a caucophony of 'surrender, surrender'
give it up, kid, you've only just begun to rise.

snagged on the splinters

stumble falter
lose momentum
blame ensnaring
still addicted

love is waiting
with some patience
for this traveler
to soon awaken

What the fuck AM I?!

... tentatively, i am a crocodile space pirate high as fuck on knock-off jenkems, headed for the cold side of the sun in my luminescent red parachute pants.

An Introduction for Every Chapter

It can be terribly easy to remember one's own shortcomings in times of self-reflection.

Selfish desire, fear, hope, pain, acceptance, and spite all seem to dissolve thoroughly into and through each layer of my sentience under the slightest pressure from outside.

I wouldn't trade my life for any; it'd be impossible to really say why. But, for fucks sake, the dance is so sweet. Deeper and shallow after, recycling emotions keep me on my toes.

Gratitude sweeps me off of my feet when its sinks those dusty talons into my shell. I thank you, we thank them, they thank those who provide our sanctuary from the destruction of our coarse hate and endless selfishness. Pulling me back out of contempt, the flowing hands and hips of my tribal shamans. You've saved me.

Smiling again, I cannot resist the joys that do not resist my charisma. Life is hilarious when you squint your eyes just right. I am that giggling fool in the corner of the pub, foaming at the mouth, violently muttering something about 'the righteous qualms of the passionate persuasions' or some other new age horse shit. He is pitiful, and yet... a needle of jealousy threads between my palms as I grasp for the meaning in my own arbitrary existence. We are pitiful....

... and I am no longer simply in love. I am inside the rippling sphere of cherishment, looking out towards my prey, my hopes, my worthy challenges and bitter defeats.

The order is my chaos but we are always in between.

To a Greater Degree; Magma Meditations

The swirling eyes of a chieftess
pierce past my smile, 
penetrating the rhythm
of these hopes and fears, 
leaving a path of fire 
from the tip of my instincts 
down to the core of inhibitions. 
Gravity is suspended for 
the ferocious dance 
between two energies.
New roots push into 
luscious soils only tilled 
in our wildest dreams. 
I am the surly scorpion 
holding on for dear life 
to the feathered haunches 
of a diving phoenix in its 
destined plummet back towards 
Gaia's open embrace.

Our gaze has broken, and I'm back on Earth; 
A shard of crystallized amber has 
lodged between my shifting eyes;
I dreamed of fire again last night, 
for it cleanses my fear of all hesitation, 
and incinerates my soul.

A Shattering Whimsey

My lonely; 
Her anger's heavy hand. 
Sitting wicked, 
I can't breathe inside my skin.
She cannot hold me again, 
Now my isolation is on fire. 
Left alone, 
We are worthy of no merriment. 
Ragged slime slipping, 
Once again as once before.
She is music, 
I am the beat that's gone askew. 

i cannot begin to comprehend the lines and shades that comprise my desire,
and there is no way to discern the righteous path ahead without some diva's guide.
i've been waiting impatiently for release from an unknown smile, 
primed to jump towards the sky without more than the gentle touch of encouragement. 
pool me back into the river, great shaman of the sunrise, 
that i might bathe away my lack of conviction through these prayers.

enough poison already
When you stop desiring the noise, 
it becomes time to abandon the song. 
To write new chords, happy melodies 
to the beat of a different drummer or two. 
The craving had been put on repeat 
and the heaviest drop now seems oddly tame. 

The record couldn't help but skip 
on such old, warped vinyl; 
glued back together for its very last spin. 

The memories this tune brings forth 
are inextricably linked to its timbre and depth. 
But, in the good graces of our creator, 
a new bond with life can now be formed 
to seek the frequencies of inspiration, 
and we will dance and rejoice 
in the vibrations with our brethren.
So let us face the music, 
oh fiery conductor, 
as we cross into the fade.

empty windows shine less brightly
when there's nothing to see outside.
too many right angles in this tiny cabinet of a room,
shelved inside and stored away.
the cockroaches have found their ways in and out,
but I only have four limbs to speak of;
trapped inside this body...
I hear people laughing slowly.


i can feel her on my shoulders
when there's nothing left to shrug.
squandered opportunities in all directions,
although there's never been much room to spread my wings in here.

The walls caved in a long time ago.

to be completely honest, shit is pretty fucking turbulent...
in this pitch black cave I spin in place
until i can no longer stand the inertia.
the only thing I can ever recall anymore
is the haunting swell of the slide guitar
as it strums along to songs of loss and songs of sorrow.

Madness is my mentor, now.

nightmares again

In dreams we are alone in a cage with whatever mental or emotional stimulus we undergo in slumber; in our waking experience, most of these things are either filtered out or are put in perspective and filed away. I hope for no more disturbing and raw observations of so many crushed hopes and silent fears put to the compelling melody of my violent snoring (as I rattle apart the very fibers of reality). I'd rather just leave all the lights on at home and avoid this murky sea of poorly understood impulses and anxieties.

Second Wind

I feel like life has changed dramatically
in the few throbbing moments of recent celebration. 
What facets of my being have been impacted will reveal themselves in time, 
though I can already sense the swell of inspiration 
pushing me closer towards the shore.
It might have been the hugs; 
such a heavy saturation of interconnection 
between souls opened wide. 
The flowing, the beauty, the turning of minds; 
life remains harsh and chaotic, of course, 
for this little bear of a man is no closer to enlightenment than before... 

But there is new whimsy to dissect, 
relinquished freedoms to observe, 
and a seemingly infinite stream of raw feeling in which I grin and will contort.

Genesis 3:19

"From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity." - Edvard Munch

its that moment when you finally open your eyes to the underlying context you'd never have seen otherwise. that slap in the face, that inevitable swell of regret and ignorance inside. embarrassment. dissolving pride. indignation.

My bones and hair will remain on this tiny planet
until it is emptied,
though my spirit might be lost.
I continue breathing, sensing colors and the wind;
waiting for my exodus
into the great abyss of space.

A beautiful thought for today

"The first time I yelled the word 'Freedom' was the first time I came in touch with my own human dignity." - Protester in Syria


Circling the drain, 
ebb churning
and violent flow. 

Dissolved into each others chaos',
The currents protest 
as we swim through oblivion.
Twelve knots towards the shore, 
the tide pulls us apart. 

Sinking deeper down, 
molecules rattling, 
bonding patterned glimpse 
at structures beyond comprehension. 

Effervescent entropy, 
and always the heat of the Sun 
spinning life into being. 

Pg. 58 of an Unwritten Memoir

We were restless, 

it seems, 

to ascend

and to be justified 

in our silly little ruts 

of identity.

We had been programmed, 

filtered of our instincts

and left to abscond 

from temptation.


 in this burning shard 

of what safety remains 

after the rise 

of global aggressions, 

humanity winces 

as toxic smoke 

fills our veins 

and the Sun

is black in the sky.

We know, 

of course, 

that it was indeed 

the fault 

of all the pollutions, 

the endless wars in Asia, 

and the meltdown 

in Iran.

What we could not 

have predicted, 


was the ambient 

sense of regret

for our brutal 

lack of preparedness 

and tact.


in the sickly wisdom

of the 23rd century,

we hold on like vultures

to the dwindling threads 

of our humanity;

the ice was our master, 

and we became slaves.

Rough Around the Edges

to swine, to kings, to rough rotten things,
my allegiances stand on their own.
to fear! to spite! to more lonely nights,
left to worship my temples alone.

well it could be worse,
and it could be over,
and i would be free 
to sail as i please.
but without me mates,
wats the point of the days?
cept to sit around hoping to change,
o to sit around waiting to change.

A Poem About Hugs

Embrace: a cherished blessing, 
my chosen voice, 
and the greatest conduit between 
ones first taste of another
and the present moment 
justly connecting these
humans together.
Bleeding heart to thumping chest;
reminded by the plush solidity 
of another astral body that
(in these tightening seconds)
our similarities can trump 
the distance between. 

For it is with 
that we encounter 
such satisfactions;
and without pretension to mute 
our pulse's rhythmic shudder,
we are left to enjoy 
the fleeting grasp
of mutual intentions 
in the space that we now share.


For the loves that I've lost, for the moments that I treasure, and in honor of the deities that found their way into my lives...
To you, to the selves I still remember, to her, to us...

... I dance, but not with limbs and skins. I shimmy my way into new oblivions. I speak with words and silence and motion and glances and rhythm. I am grateful. I am humbled. I listen to the tempo of your words in my ears, to the sounds we make in harmony. I taste the ways I felt and feel and know and forgot like dark, rich chocolate splinters on a drunken tongue.