swallow. every petal dissolves into the fog concieved from lungs to lips, escaping in a sigh of relief. midnight feels like forever from here in this moment; a lifetime, death, and eternity twisted together in a split silk rope searching for a knotted end.
life is immediate, and time is something passed and surpassed, suffering from some sort of intangible immortality. we are momentary in nature, but monumental in a moment, creating ripples in the earthen vibrations that flutter through empty space, reorganizing a rythmic clutter into human art. we breathe softly, steaming up the windowglass and shading the other side of death.

i'll take you down
running rampant
in and out of this shadow colored day.
i hate to see me leaving this way
wrapping myself up in the sheets
only to find you there, feverish discomfort.
somewhere back there is God,
i'm laying on a bible while i'm sleeping
and my face is tearing itself apart
listening to the sound of the walls
screaming, restless in thier old age,
and grabbing at my hair
when i'm not looking. tribulation
has taught me that tightrope walking
is holding on to a wave of humidity
and falling through the floor
a thousand times again.
my words are stifled by this
watery muzzle of tea leaf green.
if these levels would raise me to burst,
i'd die from heat
in a snowstorm.

we move to create such sorrowful sunshine
streaking canyonlines above another
seeming consequence. caught in
chrometangle threads of everylittlething,
you're thinking to yourself
'if only love had no need to draw flight
and concieve such blackplastic
dissapointment, we would see, with each
frozen fingertip, the beauty that spins us
so tightly like the air moving over the
pavement on this greyfleece day.'
crisp voices dulling never, intertwining
juxtaposed heartthrobs, all you can see
is blue.

a simple beauty in the nerves
knotting themselves to life,
breathing. time simultaneously gives
way beneath the empress twilight
leaving us half deaf and wandering
without a thought through the patches
of grey sky and water.
we are floating through weighty ideals.
tomorrow is that which today concieves
in the likness of presence
reduced to nothing but a solid haze
locked behind a black leather curtain.
our legacy is left in wire mesh
glinting beneath some sunlight far off
somewhere we'll never see as
it melts and runs in a homogeneous
stream through veins and nerves
resembling light in a pure form.
we stumble through life
half asleep on our knees,
and drown in the opacity of
our ambition.

it's a sour blessing in the evening setting,
sorrow and lust have nothing to do with light
as it's caught falling through the floor,
and breaking into a thousand pieces
of assembly, freezing into a paradox.
fail and tie flight into morning when we awake
in a hurricane and stumble into ourselves
as we sink slowly into moonlight.

we split between these sharp lines
running between thighs,
that dull and smooth to roll
and spread across our back.
stretch and curl around these shoulders
beautiful; caressing the spinal seams
that seem to hold ourselves together.

the light is fading into this evening
and i'll never know what to do with you now
cards falling on the table like your lips to my back
twisting me to missing home
in two different places at once.
the way the weight of the light fell on me in early afternoon
cued me in on your nostalgic gaze
remembering my body in different fames of consciousness
constructing loss and sadness in a quivering chin.
we'll never return to that color in the room
because when i go home
i'll wrap myself in miles and years
and watch the chips reassemble in stacks
to fall where they may.

writing is love
brought to you by the isLove Generator

the air this morning is as rough
as the pavement on my skin,
and you're gone
swallowed up somewhere inside it.
i slept last night
like i was going to die
under this soft quilted anguish
salted and heavy with breath.
i know what it means
when your eyes shift up
to that corner where the ceiling
meets the wall;
your thoughts are smooth
between my teeth,
and somehow
i can't stop smiling.
there's a bittersweet figment
of laughter
rising from my core where the light
drenches us to give away
all the flaws that never mattered in the beginning,
but your eyes will bring me to silence,
and i'll sleep alone tonight
knowing that voice replaces presence
but only for a while.
you'll kiss me goodbye
and cradle my head into your shoulder
for a moment
before you hesitate through the door.
i slept last night
like i was going to die,
nevermind the clock
i'll do it myself.
i'll leave this town tomorrow
with your heart,
that is,
i stole it from you
when you left last night
to keep me from sounding alone
when i whisper in my sleep.

i can't decide.
those words slipped so easily,
so softly through my lips
i couldn't stop them,
spilling onto your pillow,
staining my hair,
and left to linger in the quiet
that swallowed the night.
its simple
and taken so long;
echoing through your head
mercilessly,
and it frightens you
but you're too strong to run away.
i want so bad
to keep you here,
home with me,
because time slips away too quickly,
and before i realize
you're not there to hold
anymore.
the emptiness in my bed
is saddening
and hard to fill.
you're impossible to replace
as i've realized
through these four years that we leave
and return and break
and create.
beautiful together,
we breathe friction from the moonlight
that glows silent on your skin
pouring from the window
above the evening.
i'd tell you everything,
but lay frightened
for you of my letters
and the fear they compose
in you.
but every minute passes
leaving me still
and pondering
the worth of the beauty of fear;
i only wish you'd tell me.
these months pour down like rain
to pass empty until the spring falls.
i'll cry for you if you leave me
alone in this place
because i know
and you know
that it is so much
lonlier living in nothing.
you'll think too hard
and run
from the space in the room
that's full
with words
that soaked into your lips when you
kissed mine;
i smeared it all over your shoulders,
so i'll wait
and let it dry
hoping that you'll let it drip
into your pores,
to fill you
so you might share the rest with me.
but i'll wait
for your thoughts to permeate your fear
and dissolve it.
i think i'll never fall elsewhere again.
but i'll just wait as
time grows thin
because we're not
just
children
anymore.