Something Explains Everything

In still and transition, this is us. You’re here and so am I. It’s rather enjoyable If I had to pitch something. But you know the questions we’ve always been asking don’t seem to find answers. And when people stop thinking their questions will be answered, they get up and go. Where to? I don’t think that matters to the message.

What kind of house do you want to live in? Do you want high ceilings? Must it be sui generis or is the roof enough? I could ask a few more questions, but is it necessary to go that far? Should I invite them over? Are you ready for the destination? She’s a microbiologist, and she tells me the macro-molecules are doing well. I don’t trust her or the science.


I can’t much imagine living in a house like that, because I haven’t spent much time in homes that made me feel like I should stay. This philosopher tells me my reasons are lies, but I can’t help but feel she’s got me all wrong. I know some other fancy titles, but I seem to like the dresses better

You know I’m roots; I don’t fuck with the branches and leaves; I like my hands down in the dirt.

Our Body Is Full of Organs

It’s a peculiar thing. So much surrounds us, we take so much in; Still it does not see fruit

I could sit here for hours dissecting and pulling different parts of my viscerals out onto the table. We’d need a bit more counter space for everything. I don’t even remember consuming half this shit. Most of it sprouted up out of necessity. Okay, that’s entirely not true. Less than a quarter is out of necessity, the rest is out of longing. If I’m honest I could probably think back to when that seed started growing.
I haven’t always been the ideal gardener. Flowers shouldn’t be the only thing to result from working in the soil. A balance of stem and space! There are geometries to it! I ignored the weeds, and now I’m going to pay with a lifetime of tired bones. If someone grinds them up after, they would make great nourishment for the roots to start again.

Isn’t that exactly the hopefulness we come into the world seeking? Not many things can accomplish that hunt. An arrow takes a lot of intimacy before you can land it through the pride’s heart. Is it a struggle? Of course, but that kind of death is easier than most.

Our body is full of organs but we always feel so fucking empty


Squaring The Circle

Some colors simply go well together.

But some things, people, can’t be blanketed under one or even a few; gradients, we need gradients! So many layers exist, and no amount of coats will cover what persists. To use the word monochromatic to describe either of us would be cowardly, fearful of what it might actually encompass to square the circle in this case.

If you aren’t painting with a full palette, I must ask that you consider what might be lost.

She hasn’t said anything of late but I know how quiet she can be. I see it, but I don’t call it’s name. If I didn’t know her so well, if I didn’t know so intricately the knots in her back; It might all turn me over, and leave me prone.

You want me to be safe, I want burning, dangerously close to the end of my wick; Smoke begins to pick up, fire names my last breath an ember, a ruby in a glass – It sings to me

She wants me to listen when I begin to erupt; Is it because I’m selfish, and a tad poor of hearing? Might I sometimes descend down the chain with a few mighty roars; Or climb up to see with omniscient eyes? Hopefully it’s a ratio of only 3:1. I think she knows it’s the things in my past she still hasn’t brushed the grime from yet.

I want her to be around for as long as men have told lies, so that I can perhaps speak the truth; that never would I have believed something so wonderful before I lived to see enough to prove there is more to life than tragic beauty. I want her to tell me the things there are no answers to, when she finds them of course. Maybe we can agree on some

I already had said goodbye, step by step. I had to. She was going places, and even if I wanted to go with her, I couldn’t; There was no way I could keep up – I’d only be holding her from where she wanted to go, and what she wanted to see.
I told myself I’d never let it get me, I wouldn’t break down and let that shit fuck me up anymore. And I guess I won’t know until years down the road if I was able to keep my integrity.

I woke up wanting to kiss you, but wants are never needs.

What Does It Take? Confidence; It’s All Confidence’

Do you think I love you? If I spoke nothing, could you tell from how I act? Without words to run over you, would my warm soul be enough to keep you out of the cold? If not, then I fear I did not live my life as I had dreamt it; That was where I fumbled – I dreamt it all, and did not act in a way that would bring my dreams to reality. I did not act in a way that would give to you reasons beyond believing; You know my take on faiths.

Are there people who truly believe there is not one thing they can not do? I’ve been on fire like that before! The flames don’t do any harm … at first. They light up the room, illuminate the corridors and corners, and before long you’re cooking in the kitchen – Nourished like a god. Naturally we begin to find that comfort. How could one not find the slightest comfort in waking the mind of a god? Played true to the self It’s so unbelievably intrinsic, from a base level, that we quickly hit the pitfalls; It’s so bright all the time that you begin to adjust to it. You claim that it is dark and begin to over saturate; You piled on too much fuel didn’t you? The flames don’t hurt at first – Then all they do is burn; You don’t forget. You won’t forget.

It is easy to forget all the lessons we integrated along the way; It is easy to forget that we are still required to breathe above all the other things we deem important. Yes, it is the number one lesson. It is something so simple and important, yet despite that importance, you are not to hold on to it. Don’t you see now? What all along your very breath has been trying to teach?

Don’t tell me that shit; You know damn well you can tell if it’s one way or another. You’ve drank my blood and know my death. I can not promise that this will be an easy thing to piece together. It took me all the years of my life so far. I had to find the pieces of the puzzle, but it was so much more than that. The study of each one as an entire individual. Holding each up to the sun to check it’s authenticity, and then sleeping with it under my pillow for many nights – Is there anything I have not allowed to permeate into my mind? You should be able to tell – Haven’t you been spelunking enough to know? I guess it is hard to discern when your head is constantly finding itself thrashed about by these waves.

God, look at her take another hit. Everything is so smooth, all of her is flowing softly; On the outside flames burn controlled – She is a back-draft waiting to roar, and I have no desire to run from the blast. If people are to be damned, then being damned together is a sweeter trail for us to taste. Isn’t it appalling how depressed you get? You’ve got all the finest things a child could grab at, all the refined taste of an aged wine, and dripping juices like a peach of immortality – We’ll have our own feast ; All we can eat; We’ll walk around in a jade palace – We’ll live indefinitely. Together? That depends on how well we learn to forgive. Olympus knows the troubles that can be had when you have forever.

Yes, we must learn to manage these pesky grains of sand. I asked once if I could place an entire desert in our hourglass – Perhaps we’d have time to digest; To find room for those desserts you always wanted. I remember when you spent the whole day running errands to make one that day. Oh goodness, it was sweeter than laying in bed after accepting that you just don’t have it in you to get up quite so fast – The last grain slipped by while I waited for an answer. I’ve never much enjoyed waiting since.

It all goes downhill at some point. Things have to come down. That’s the way it works. I know I’m a broken record, telling you this again, but what do you expect to come from this high? There is a come down at the end. Maybe we we can land softly, for sure you go back up – How many times can you stand back up with me after hitting the ground?

What will you drink at this divide? Is it me or will you kneel to the well?

I Broke Once & Couldn’t Help But Stay Open Mouthed To This Universe’

You feel that energy? Are you awake? Do you have any prior engagements? Should we get going or are we young right now? Shouldn’t we talk before experience hardens what we think we know? Wouldn’t it be a shame to find we are both wrong and everything we argued took an unnecessary toll? Bless this, Bless this – Can eternity teach us to let go? You ever observed the way two people can grab hold of a shared vision, and ride that trail all the way down to its blaze of glory?

Won’t you see me? Stay in faith,
Don’t I give the reason;
Feel this love and hate create the seasons,
To think that we’re blooming,
Something beautiful, spring should be soothing
doomed to glory, song of Achilles
Devour the world and call it leaving
Part the sea and call it bleeding,
Imagery too strong, put you on the ceiling
I’ll be burning at the stake,
Baby won’t you put out my flames

It’s painful when I get into this state; Oh are you worried about me? Do you want to make some mistakes? I am not always opposed to doing the things you like, but every now and again I want to get on your nerves. Yes, I want to stand between all those synapses, spread my wing span and grab hold of them like I was the fucking conductor – I want you shocked – I want you hurling lightning bolts at me like you, goddess, were the usurper of Zeus himself. I want you to jolt me. Light me up in that labyrinth so all your lost thoughts might find their way to your tongue; And like a lightning rod send them straight down into my soul.

Oh girl I’m so loaded
Oh girl I’m so stoked and
I could really use a hand,
Sistine chapel, reach for man,
I’ve seen souls worse off than you,
As for me I have no clue.
Committed crimes I should of knew,
burned down bridges
Along side of you.
What’s the point,
Shouldn’t have shown you the vantage.
Now in the end you’re claiming I did all the damage

There’s a lot of things I don’t let you see. I’m not protecting you, I just think that some things you’re to find on your own, and it’d waste both of our times and energy; Maybe even stir a few things best laid to rest. I won’t stop you, but I won’t assist poor etiquette. Everyone wants more from you, why can’t we just be people, why does this have to go anywhere outside of where it is? Why can’t we just kiss to see where we land? Why can’t we just hold hands? I just want – No, that’s my concern now. I want, when I should be fine with nothing – Let’s just sleep before I lead us, with your permission, down the wrong path – Always ask before you reach for more.

I bet you feel that,
I’m about taking it over the edge,
From flat-lined,
Hear that gasp
It’s your second first heartbeat
I’d be slightly disappointed
If I saw you in the morning
Since you think you know me,
Got me all figured out like your life;
You think I am a monster – I’ll bite your neck.
The things you’re seeing are not all the pieces!
I welcome you to this party
But I see you still avoid me.
You romanticize all that other crap,
They put it to music and you lose your pants
That shit gets real and you close off
It’s wild how earlier I was drinking, drunk in love.
Now I’m driving, down on you is a dead end,
How intricate are your bed sheets?
I bet these are the expensive panties
I’m eating good now: It’s a lifestyle
It’s all too short to not be the better man
Really you’re so petty it amazes me.
Rather build a bridge to the middle of the ocean.
Here’s a hundred I’m not sticking around for breakfast.

I’d say it’s time to bloom, but I’ve still got more coming for you

Somethings Are Too Much To Title

Darling I, I think about you. Darling, I do, and it’s blown me over once or twice
Darling I think about you when you’re not around, and it really gets my head going round. Darling I don’t know how to welcome you to this place. I say come get drunk with me when the night gets dark, running, let’s run out time – bleed out the clock and watch the stars laugh and cry as we lay beneath these lifelong lies – Ain’t you heard? What you see up there is no longer the truth! Long ago they have burned out for all we know. Look at me, yeah I think that even the silence is dying to speak. And if I would stop drinking it up, it might teach me how to talk about the important things – With clarity.
Imagine these possibilities! What if we could go back? Peruse the shelves of history; If you could pluck one book from the fires, which would be your favorite? Tell me of the tale you’ve got buried in your chest; I know silence isn’t the only one dying to hear it. Because the stories don’t die with their pages.

The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do was get up from your bed knowing I had made the decision that I would would never lay in it again.

It hurt laying there trying to reconcile what hope I felt with the truth of what I’d known. I looked out the window like I had so many times only this time I wasn’t contemplating how to tell you the things I felt, but how I’d now remember only the cold realization of sleeping at the other end. My head pushed up against the bars, my leg falling off the edge, this was you pushing me out without saying it, without pulling the rug out from under me. How could I ever return after a night like this? Only a masochistic fool could do it. Of course you are not to blame – None of this was what you wanted – You needed space and I just showed up because I couldn’t let things go on like a mangled cat. As the sun rose on my final stay, I soaked a few tears into a sweater you lent me at the end of the bed. I thought maybe when you go to do laundry in some weeks or when you were looking for something clean to wear you’d give it a smell and the scent of me might repulse you. Maybe it would bring you somewhere warm one more time instead. I know how you get cold sometimes and you don’t mean it; The temperature simply changes so fast and out of control, but you still like to be warm enough. I hung onto the idea of staying. I smiled thinking you might embrace me when you woke up a little behind schedule and how you’d be happy I was there, but I guess that’s more of the fool in me. This was it. I had my choice to make and it wouldn’t change a thing. The choice of leaving now was mine and mine alone, every other moment would be owned by you. If I waited too long you might even see me go, or wake up as I was walking out and I’d say I’m going to the bathroom. You’d smile like you do with your hair all over and put your head back down. One last time I’d look at you asleep, imagine the memories in this space and I’d smile back. Instead of returning I’d really just creep down the stairs, take a look around to make sure I didn’t leave behind any part of me that might haunt you and go. Oh but the piano. It catches my eye and I remember the times you’ve played. Easy ones you’d tell me, and I’d wish you would play again. All again, and I think maybe if I go back up there now I can still sneak back into the bed and shrug off whatever sadness awaits in earnest hope that I might be able to convince you to play once more, not for me, but for your memory,  so that the last key I think of isn’t that I should listen to beautiful women when they tell me they don’t want something serious. 

That’s it. The first rays are coming in now to illuminate your mistakes. You’re still here to see them touch down on her face and hear how it’s too bright to sleep. Hold your breath, you don’t want the last memories to have anything to do with disturbing her.

You wake up and I decide I must go. I really can’t stay, but you grab for me and motion that I lay. Which I do because I know my emotions want one last time, what could one last time hurt? And it doesn’t. It doesn’t hurt, because I imagine for a moment that I’m back at the start, and I’ve got your attention. And you’re asking me questions which I have answers to. And you light up when you see me, you want my kiss. And I want to give you 639 of them. I shake free of the daydream and return to the reality. You pull my arm around you, and like I’ve never had any control over my own body it goes as you request. I can’t help but feel empty, a soldier used up, and on the way out. I’m a fool for being here. I knew for a while this was the only reality, but I’m real bad at ignoring what I feel.  I wasn’t really surprised, It was only ever a question of when.

Great people give us two things – Happiness & sadness.

I only ever gave one fuck,
And one fuck’s way too much,
Unless you’re talking bout us

Forget The King

I mean really, I’ve known things better than crowns & having your food prepared for you -We could use our hands – Touch things they say are forbidden and laugh, You like to laugh don’t you? The one who raises your spirits with empty glasses is the real babe born in the purple – Humor is royalty – Walks through the courtyard sure are nice, but these legs, well we could run; Yes I’ve seen the way your eyes get glossy while you watch the cat dash and jump for fun out in the fields – We’ve got all these tastes we could really enjoy with our tongues, let’s stir up the ground and dig up some turnips; When we’ve had our fill we’ll prank the executioner at the gallows and tell him he’s got the wrong idea; He’ll hang your tired gown instead, and we’ll make our way to the woods where the real treasure has always been

I must warn you that the market is not open to the words and happenings of the woods. The magic I’ve taught you can’t be brought to the royal court, nor should it be used to force opinions. If one is not sensing, wide to what you taste; To what I’ve yelled in the heart of the forest and is now only a whisper at its’ edge – Then you must keep secret the wild in your head.

Will I be able to count on your mana’o?
You say I don’t have to even ask,
But honestly in times like these I do.

In times like these I do long for the wild to speak to me like it used to, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get close enough to hear it clear as the morning lark, the mountain stream, or Wind song!

The dark things here, like to hear sweet whispers too.

No One Loves Your Poems

Doesn’t that strike you like someone who knows all your trigger points? We read em’ sure. We read every last word start to end again, and again. Alright I’m not telling it straight.

The truth is no loves your poems the same way that they love
the way your poems get them feeling.
Yes, they love the way you write it out of them,
how it drags them under the current,
and holds their consciousness for ransom!

How could they love your poems as much; When that feeling they get comes shooting from their viscerals roaring like a migration of butterflies, and birds, and bees bursting from the back of their throat – They’ve just got to fly

There is no time to stop and love your poems the way they must go out and catch every last winged creature that spewed forth into the wide opened mouth of the sky

No one loves your poems like that; But does it matter if it made their blood pump a little quicker the next few times around the circuit?
Does it matter if it leaves the hairs on their arms standing tall, while the scent of it all lingers in their soul like the smell of a long night on the bed sheets?

Only A Frame

The hardest part is that I’ll never get to see the full masterpieces all these moments I’ve shared are adding up to – I get so intoxicated, so wildly enthralled in what is being created, but I don’t get to stick around for the long exposure, for all the layers, for all the edits and additions. All this time I’ve learned, it’s the right things always at the wrong times. It’s rushed, I’m moving too fast

Timing is everything

The fucking trees know this from the minute they feel the second warm touch after winter.

They fucking know as they begin to change, and we only know after we marvel at their colors.

They fucking know it, you fucking know

If you’re reading this it’s too late

Reading You

Does time passing have you contemplating? Are you amazed as much as me?

And all this had passed – Telling you stories, opening up and giving you all the things I could, looking to share a smile, and spend time; I finally understood what had been taking place all along. You’ve been with me now since this started, since you began to know me. Yes, I’ve said it before, and I say it now – You know me. And I suppose I could have arrived to this point much sooner, but I still believe anything worth doing takes the time; takes the focus and energy of many days. Even now as I read you along to this point upon which we converge, I draw my breaths slow and steady because I think a patient and unhurried delivery is due. To who am I writing? To who was all this meant for? Who would find this delivered to them coiled in an evolving script, in the company of countless stamps – Well it’s you.

There is more – There is always more