Pink Roses II

As I cool off

in the twilight

waiting

for this gridlock

to open up

like the skies

that one night

late

last November,

like the spider

trapped in his own

black self-made

maze

and cannot find

his way back

to his prey,

my canines

are aching

for blood;

I’m snarling

growling

here

here without you –

and you’re the only

only
I need.

When Midnight Drugs Turn Sour

Accept that she

is a syringe

and that you

have a very

serious addiction.

Embers dancing

all around us –

the firestorm

will keep us warm

and we need this now;

no sun

in this cracked

marble sky.

An inevitable cold wind

rising to meet my fingertips

before they whisper

to you;

be it Death

or shadow

I could not tell.

You’re wearing off

and the needle

of your arms is distant

but optical illusions

on the far end of August

and we’ll make

the most of it

until then.

The Boy with Empty Mason Jars

There was nothing out there;

          sky, street, trees.

I looked further

and there was a you

slipping away from a me

to greet me –

a place that existed

only in the furthest

reaches of sleep

and frailty

          and goodbye

where the sunlight

feels colder

the desperation

greater

than winter’s

chilling embrace.

The girl I love

in the front seat

behind the wheel –

my heart

lost

somewhere in my throat forever.

She looks at me

with eyes that long

for something more;

some thing

I’ve never had.

Something she needs to find

on her own.

And then maybe –

          I hoped –

you’d find me

in the other realm

in the other sky

above the blue

above you;

in the other

that I acquired

before you awoke

from the sadness.

I’m the storm

in front of you

you want to chase.

You’re the storm

in front of me

that gets away;

a supercell swirling

in the swaying hail.

And I wish

you could feel me

here;

the suffocating drops

of longing

I can’t keep

from spilling out

of every pore

to my name.

And though that ever-present

shimmer in your eyes

is blinding

there is a sickening past

and a future uncertain

you’re just not willing

to let go of –

to envision –

just yet.

And so these stars

will extinguish

the sun

on this

the coldest day

on earth.

You’ll bury me

in the backyard;

you want to bury me

in your grave –

in the ashes

of a heaven obscure.

Somehow, you’ve been

deflecting all the love

I’ve been throwing

in effervescent cyclones

towards your unseeing eyes.

Your love –

          still forming

cumulonimbus massacres

in spotty crashes –

an unsubstantial rain

and a drought

that has plagued

my aching claws.

I’m losing my strength

while my will remains

bitterly intact;

please touch down –

Juliet Oscar Romeo Delta Alpha November –

on the runway

before the snow

returns…

and so love

is synonymous

with scary dreams

that end

beforethe end.

Contact Binary (W Ursae Majoris)

We’ve been gravitating

towards each other

for lightyears

unbeknownst until

it was too late.

We touch

softly

through spaceless

dark

for the first time.

A supernova

on the event horizon;

we’ll create our own

moving castle

forever howling

into infinity.

Your soul

is fractured

and tired –

let me mend you
with my broken arms.

Up, West, Sky

I thought

you’d be the one

that saved me.

Pass out-

side –

I used my hat

to catch the sunlight

before it rose

to shine upon your face

and send me into

a dizzying trance

starry-eyed for days.

And you’re always there

when I close my eyes;

if you’re my dream

please come true

I still think

you’re the one

(that can save me).

Dante & Beatrice

I’m gonna finish this song

and listen to this cigarette.

Notice the rain falling harder –

almost blinding

the last mile to my house.

My love for you

is second

to none

and like heroin

I feel at home

in your arms

spinning dizzy

concentric circles

up into the majestic.

But you’re allergic to love…

A cigarette

in the cold gray

A Chopin sonata

and you’re off the map

spinning dizzy

erratic circles

up into the majestic.

Call it in the Air

I was half-expecting it

to be nighttime

or for every

dawn

still

pitch black.

For every you

another mourning

cause you’re volatile

like Tampa weather.

And in my dream about you

I was telling you all about

my dream about you

how every flower

I composed

carried by the wind

went flying out the window.

Toss a fair coin –

tonight you’re nothing special.

But tomorrow

and ever after;

          the thing I love most about her

            is how she notices every starkissed color

in the things she loves.