i welcome you with silence through my door,
a wandering enigma.
beautiful and fearful,
but motionless by my side.
all your worries escape your mouth in a sigh,
wordless, leaving me to wonder
what it is that i'll never know dissipating softly in the air.
your skin breathes honesty through its pores
dripping onto my shoulders and running down my neck,
enough to draw me in, and leave me blinking curiosity,
tracing my thoughts on your back
beneath this blanket that covers us both.
i'd crawl inside and swallow your pages word by word
if only i could leave you lying open with your
heart exposed in every place so i could read what your skin
hides when you spill onto my bedsheets.

when they come, these fears and desires
curl beautiful in words pouring from your lips.

our skeletal youth blows gales from the south
through these soft linen trees
we run in danger sidebyside
in the same moment that we are born
and left to ponder all the pigments that unfold before
us here; where the mountians are swallowed by sky
and as vibrant as life in their old age.
you'll lay me down before i know whats right,
and all this vast earth will fold beneath
our feet and rise, curling in spanish smoke rings
caressing this mountianside
in a chlorophyl dream.

los sueños que vemos son la realidad afuera de nuestros ojos.

you sink through me and shiver,
falling softly into my hands from
where you wander outside.
this moment is lonlier than silence
pacing_pacing,
not ready to move in time;
and i cannot think
other than wanting to speak my insides to death
to you and flood your fears
with everything you never wanted to face yet.
something drifts through the windowpane,
childlike,
and melts on the glass,
dripping down and staining the spot
where i always used to be empty.
now i'm damp with tomorrows dyed in red
waiting for something we're unsure of holding,
and i'll be ready to put to rest
despite the conservative council you pour in.

sleep soundly through this trap,
i'll wake you sometime in the morning.

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i want to go to sleep
but this afternoon is washing over me
in a wave set to swallow everything that kneels before it.
drown me before you go
because i can't stand anymore
and i keep spiraling down and in
eventhough i never wanted to in the first place.
this small black room
moans in fragments of burnt sienna and i can't help but
feel like my eyes are closing in on me
long before i even try to sleep.
you'll find me locked around the corner,
if you can get behind the door,
lost in a heap between carpet and tile;
no more speaking. just spill and let the spinning slow
then sink in beneath the tide,
and your chest will cease to rise against the water pressure.
you'll see me when i surface
hours from this rainstorm.

this faded blue shuts my eyes and carries me down,
in love with this winter;
its scents and subtle sounds,
flickers of soft light running down that center line that
runs between lungs
leaving trails of warm-sweet leaves that stain my clothes
and curl content in rings through my hair.
this breath on my face comes alive in color
dancing about the moonlit memories settling
in the bottom of this bottle
and this delightful ambiguity spirals in beauty,
tracing itself on the walls behind me
always falling between because of the pieces
i wouldn't want to take back.
we all change and fall
like autumn, but emerging from this dream,
the sunrise never seemed so alive
and i'll be drawn back in forever
before this evening blue can shut my eyes again.

we sit here and hollow ourselves
a million times.
the minutes race on ahead
with no intention of waiting for what is left behind.
those words scrape hard against my back
and i'll wish that your awful hands could be bound
to feel the weight of imprisionment for the things
they should not have done, defying rationality,
and flooded with selfish desire.
i'm sorry echoes over and over again
through a phone line soaking up the tears that
drip and smear the ink on my face.
my body projects the images
on the emptiness behind your eyes
blurred and moving in a senseless deja vou
that runs in my head at night when i sleep alone
resting my weight on my side against the wall for comfort.
the only warmth that i want sank miles away
five months ago leaving me with strings of voice that
dissolve with air.

its 2 am and the clock is dripping down my eyes
screaming at me to get some sleep, threatening
to wind the days slower if some part of me refuses to settle down.
the edges of this photograph are burning and curling in
to the center where i'm bent over your shoulder and smiling,
and there's no weeding through hundreds of tangled threads
just to reach out and touch you. for now anyway, there's a thick opaque
nothing between that swallows my arm every time i extend to reach
just a piece of whats too far to touch and turns me back to a molasses ivory white,
and i fall down on my bed, and the sheets mourn in lonliness
at the warmth of just one body.

our mouths are full
with thoughts we can't express,
and the day is lost to words;
bits and pieces of lost-to-honest self
transcending our existence
with each minute that rolls down and drips
off our cheeks staining the garments
that grace a skin so full of memories,
it could spill over the edge.
we find ourselves lost in shackles of
irony, and we are tethered to a youth
we cannot escape, left wandering
in our own presence.
offering peace for piece of mind,
we stop to realize that the water
glistens a particular way when the twilight
gives birth to evening and falls away
into the stillness of midnight.
these silent illuminations cast our shadows
on the wall in an attempt at capturing beauty
in motion and portraying the sound of silence
in rhythm, while all of the seeming tragedy
is left to dissipate on the floor behind the doorway.

reality is soft this evening.
the moon rises (young) with the
stifled roar of these
paper thin
walls
speaking recycled conversation
and whispering secrets
to the blankets and bedsheets
about alcoholic weekends
and how the light fell about
that smile when the butterflies
rose to your teeth
as your skin stood up
and arched
its back.