As I face the space inside my heart,

Mingled with the anxiety in my head,

Dust out the corners and remove the dead-

Petal-less garden.

At first it’s tough, dried up soil and cat shit everywhere,

But I take that ho and pound the ground.

I hit it so hard and remove the cracked thirsty dirt.

Till I can see:

Moist nutrients, dark black and brown,

 Ringy worms of the earth crawling around.

And I throw that splintered ho,

Collapsing to my knees, grasping fistfuls of dirt-

 Inhaling the potential.

The stinky manure-like potential,

Knowing that something good can come out of shit.

Hole. 

Seed. 

Hole. 

Seed.

Hole. 

Seed. 

Hole. 

Seed. 

Hole. 

Seed. 

Hole. 

Seed. 

Hole.

Seed.

Covering them in blankets of soil and drowning them in H20.

Seeds. Seeds. Seeds.

The witching hour.

Now the night falls.

The moonlit sky reflects on my soaked garden. 

Singing, dancing, waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting with care and love.

Waiting for the harvest.

Regrets

Another actor in the sea of infidels,

Stealing the voices of innocent Arials.

Faking Beauty-

Laced mask swallowing your morals.

Consider to be incriminated.

Another victim of the un-resurrection.

Secreting sweat over pulsing bodies,

Pumping out pheromones.

Lust swallows love with dust.

Leave alone.

Safe in your own shell.

Swallowing pills to be real.

Head explosion.

Ovarian implosion.

Galway

Just a corner in Eyre Square, 

A door out of the box.

Solid ground, 

Something to stand on, 

Something to love.

Be alone.

Breath deep.

Take in the air.

Recycle it. 

Breath it in again.

Love some more.

Love some.

Love.

Words Falling

Words falling from an empty heart, 

An orchestrated rise to fall.

Listening to the warm in the silence,

Dreaming of a sunny day in the winter.

Dreaming of concrete beliefs in a world of so many unknowns, but why not just embracing the unknowns and accepting them as possibilities.

Erasing your memories from my heart.

Erasing those years spent investing.

Why do we fall in love? 

What’s the point? 

Better to be with the wrong person then to be alone and lonely.

We are a little lost and fucked up sometimes. 

Venturing into the unknown shouldn’t be viewed so much as running away, 

More finding yourself in an unknown land. 

Deconstructing everything that didn’t make sense while you were growing up.

Constructing an identity. 

Something from your heart. 

Something that happens when you open your heart again.

Uninspired

I was talking to my roommate today about his brother. He mentioned his brother has been inspired lately, letting the creativity flow from his hands and producing some pretty disturbingly fantastic pieces. But there was a "dry spell" before this. When he first got out of rehab, feeling empty, he sat staring at blank canvases. Months went by. The canvases remained empty. I wonder what was stirring in his brain pot during this "dry spell" because the pieces I saw today were stunning. I guess sometimes it's the waiting that necessary...the thinking...the searching, then maybe the acceptance of the ideas that come.

Faithless

It was three years ago today. You were standing in the corner drinking your beer. And I saw the sparkle of moonlight in your eye. I also saw-

Something else.

Can you stop fondling my heart with your eyes?

It can never last.

Your favorite part of the story is

“The End”

Just 2 words.

Once Upon a time words meant more.

Sexualized cities make love sick.

Love- used to be a feeling.

Now it’s a memory.

Fading. Drifting. Teasing.

Give me something more than your eyes.

More than your skin touching mine.

Give me something more.

I saw it and I want it.

The faith you have.

In people. In dreams. In bed.

So much hope.

It makes me queasy.

Faith-the beguiling bastard of life.

99 words

Someone showed me the world and I closed my eyes

Now, left with a empty pockets and shuttered windows

I believe in lies.

Across the way the old man gazes out his window- he thinks about the routine. Work, food and sleep.

He smiles. What does he have that I am missing?

You showed me your colors

God damn- I could not believe there was colors so soft that could make my eyes bleed so strong

"So much depends upon a red wheelbarrow"

I despise the cold here

And the absence of sunlight in your eyes.

The wheels keep...