Morning Mood – Hunger

Don’t be shy, this is what you’re here for right?

Morning mood let me be soft for you, morning moves you could take it off, but I’d rather do it for you – Awoke hungry for you. Wake you up with bites along your neck. I’m looking to devour it. Little bits of saliva left on your chest – Kisses across to both your shoulders; Slow for now as we warm up the motors. Run my tongue along your lip, go for a taste and pull back as you breathe in,  drag my smile to your ear, whisper how I had you in my dreams and now I want it this morning in reality.

The beat, the beat – I’m not here to sleep – Woke up at birth and have forever been searching; I’ve been looking for the right permutation. One I could sit back, and soak up in awe of its simple kind of amazing.

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These are my morning moods; Let them touch you.
My thoughts of everything, how it all gets my mind filling with color!

You like colors don’t you?
Who are you trying to josh,
You love rolling in these vivids

Absence, Absinthe, and Magic

Come on, you’ve been away, and you’ve forgotten how we play

Well surely this extended time from presence has cast shadows upon my memory. Time has begun to bury us in the corridors of your repository. The upside to this is that the further it gets buried, the deeper I become sheltered in a beautiful place. A buried story is never gone, just taking its time to return to us. Perhaps a scent, carried by a cool lift of air, might creep in through an open window and blow the dust off some stale covers – Perhaps you’ll sneeze and knock over an old stack to uncover this treasure map; Perhaps you’ll tip your candles and lose it all in the fire. Whatever the case, whatever the happening, I know absence will make sure my senses quake come the day. Exploding with what serves you that soul flavor, the kind you need just a little more so you can savor, the kind that gets you swinging with some odd behavior to anyone that’s looking without the right cipher.

Empty your cup. Yes pour it all out now – How can you see what’s at the bottom, clearly, if you keep any of the past stagnant within.

You ever get to the last straw? You know the place at the end of your worldly perception; The zone where all your senses begin to mix like paint dipped water – What really is this place? It’s you, your soul, drunk, love, the breakdown of it all, the place where you really have fun – Where you start to really grip what it is you’ve been tasting, seeing, smelling, hearing, touching! Deep you reach for what the tides of the drink hold in the sand bar grooves of your essence, endless, you’re finding new ways to dance and sing! Yes, here you are, you will-o’-the-wisp; Doesn’t the wormwood give such a fair tint to life? We know none of this is fair – But we are spot on with the way we celebrate in this body of lies.

The sound of fluid running across your celadon – I laugh when they try to tell me that your words don’t exist,

She is quiet, but when you draw her out, she is an echo of familiarity reverberating against the bells. So I play the ancient winds rolling across cultivated fields, giving rise to cultured tunes; What is that sound? It’s us. Hear your vase has the perfect acoustics. In all we speak, life is born, linguistically shaped, giving matter form. It is no mistake that you feel colors, taste numbers, and see spells. This is us brought to water – And I believe if I drink enough of you, I’ll have all the spirit I could need, as long as you want to drink me too – Now birth your thaumaturgic song!

Drinking on the low spirits ain’t no good I tell you.
High energy fluid is what you’re looking to get into.

I Might Just Paint You A Masterpiece

I want that Degas just for her.
I know how she likes it on the wall.
Dirty talk, she calls it a form of art;
Who am I to disagree, the way I paint the fucking scene,
Original no forgeries
High-value art, I am the king,
But I don’t accept a crown – That pomp just not for me
They say I am a mountebank, I say this life I live ain’t free
but it can’t be crime the way she gives it to me

There would be times she washed the dishes like she was washing a new born child. It honestly drove me crazy, I just wanted to do them for her, with all my vigor; I couldn’t waste time – But I get it now. I find myself holding a dish with the water running slow, my hands in control, and smiling. I know I shouldn’t but I ask anyway, was this enough? Did I do it enough, did I speak the names that mattered as often as I would like to now?

I could summon the rain, The Great Wave off Kanagawa,
Don’t your life just feel the same,
The way you wake up and smell the Self Portrait of A Drowned Man
Talkin’ craft is something I do fast
Breakin’ the Bread like it’s my Last,
Got it spread Vitruvian Man
Stepping out the Memory of the Garden at Etten,
I more miss Eden – I snuck out while she was sleeping
Is it bad that I still sleep easy?
Close my eyes and hear The Scream
Bought this spot with my Angel in Green,
She steps in the room looking like the Mona Lisa
Future so bright, priceless as a Starry Night
Now let The Three Musicians play it nice and slow
Pour the drinks like it’s Hemingway’s last call
And tell me all about how you feel art

How  could anyone blame her? All she wanted was to connect with something, all she wanted was to feel; And I don’t blame her – All these nerves, all this flesh, and god damn what use is it all if you’re not arrested by the tides and moon to the point that you’re covered in sand as the water washes over you; Listening to it all crash like clockwork ebb and flow.

It took me a bit to slow down and simply live these moments, but I’m glad I did

I Can’t Feel My Face

You see she likes the danger, the chemical cocktail endorphin rush – Now I won’t pin these things I’ve dreamed up on her – I’m my own man; but if there was something that needed burning, I knew she wouldn’t mind being kept warm. Maybe I put on a little much, maybe I held her throat in my palm with my passion boiling over, but she liked the way the hot wax made her jump. If you can catalyze someone’s soul right out of their bones into their own arms, where they can burnish themselves, and look upon the moment divinely – Perhaps a little too hungry; Is your primal acumen following? – You do it with alacrity and watch their ebullience do anything but desiccate

Maybe I’m saying too much on this. For you? No, this isn’t for you at all dear.

You ever seen a woman hold fire in her hands? I have.

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It’s Just You And This Music Tonight

Sometimes you just need someone to commit with.
What kind of magic do I have in my fingertips?
Lightning fire, blast you up, make you melt, rough as fuck.
Because sometimes you need a pair of eyes
to look right into your soul; in all their silence,
they are still so loud. I’ll be found – I don’t know,
Am I wildin’ – I’ll never call it right, I won’t be that blind.
The stuff you want is mine, and I’m not keeping anything tonight

I won’t paint it red, won’t let you burn it either
Cause I’m not talking fire, at least not a consuming pyre
I want the crucible, strike it while it’s hot from the furnace,
On the anvil we are birthing days – hammer that shit out,
The taste of you is incredible – especially when I’m hungry
Are you afraid of being lonely? Press those claws into me,
Tear a little flesh, I swear it will look good on me,
Oh you’ve got the means to rip apart anyone you please.
That’s a dangerous characteristic – I can hear it seethe
Should I put you down or drop with you under me?

Are you ready to turn up the heat? Like it was possible to imagine
something hotter than the moment we touched baby.
I’ve got you on this throne like Satan himself done claimed your soul;
Like he made a pact so dark he had to stop by a few minutes before 8
To pick you up and take you out for everything you never felt
And with that even God can hear you gasping,
From beyond the night sky we’ll go swimming in
Because we all know now you’ve had a taste,
No one stops until they’ve touched the depths
Take this vehicle for a drive down your spine, fingers ride the lines,
The curves between familiar, and never felt better
This the kind of shit that take you back to the beginning
– Talking bout the big bang of the universe
I was there once, and now here we are.

When she was here couldn’t get enough,
when she’s gone like she was never here at all,
couldn’t keep her under the covers, too hot,
had to break it off, find a new spot, turn the pillow over,
cool it off, And now I’m all talk, about was this real life,
or was I just a roll of the dice, hit luck once, thought it was all mine,
but I couldn’t sign, granted, it wasn’t worth the dime,
they we’re trying to push on me, and I just spent the time,
not worrying about whether it was worth my life,
All in now, you can’t call me ‘mine’
You want to get down, then fall down
I don’t worry about the outcome, just the way I got there,
Dead in my grave, it was worth the nightmare
So tell me, do you think life is fair?
I wonder if you could of done better here

I Didn’t Kiss Her When I Left

I realized only after I started how difficult of an image you are to capture. The light, the softness of your face – These two together, my heavens; They’d beg me to close my eyes and stand at the gates deciding who was the fairest. I reconcile them in the final strokes; I am the alchemist. I am the watcher over the stars, yes I guide the night. Even in peaceful rest I know your discomfort – I keep you in mind, so that what you might find difficult in nature, I can put to words in hopes of easing your study. Is this all? I have given my thoughts to this. Do you know what it’s like to love you? I bet you’ll tell me.
You’re gonna have to wait.
You’re gonna have to wait.

Don’t move; I’ve got to pen this – It is perfection as near I may see with my flawed sight. It’s only me – I can at last step back, and breathe a sigh of content with what I’ve created from my mind – The body will follow where it leads; mine has traversed every line, and the shades I’ve taken ages on. It is important that it be done in time and with a hunger to be as near to the source as one can be without it being anywhere. If I can create her I can draw you, stop trying to act on gravity, like you’ve got some type of mass on me; It’s not you, deep, deep words aren’t you, but if you were a flame you’d be blue. Slow your pace. You’ll consume everything. I know.

Do you know what it’s like to love you? You never told me what it’s like to love me. You want to know? I sorely do, I surely must have your answer, but you don’t owe me anything. You know I do. I know you do. It’s like waking up at 3AM feeling euphoric – But who gets out of bed at 3AM, Who’s ready to face the day so early – Yet you can’t fall back asleep; So it’s just waiting. Then loving me is like waiting? No. It’s everything else. Everything else is like being in a long line that you’ve lost interest in being a part of, lacking clarity as to why you stood in the line to begin with, No, you’re not waiting. You’re the ride. You’re not waiting at all.

I watched the ink drip from these lit hands,
as I smeared it across your blank face,
and still your body wouldn’t take,
my transfusion of words.
I watched you spill out,
Nothing I knew could stop the drain.
Long hair, black as tar, but twice as hot
The gods know I’m so dirty covered in her.

You’re not waiting. At all. I asked you to be patient. You told me you could be patient. Look at the time you’ve spent. And it’s something that penetrates my entire being, but I can’t remember it, I can not recall to memory what it is. It is there underlying everything. At one moment I can almost taste it; Another it’s a smell, a touch – I hear it, can’t see it. I can not

You’re good at silence and flitting your eyelashes,
If I could be a diamond, you’d find me drunk at the bottom of a champagne flute,
Let me play it for you, musical notes I’ll caress from you,
Got Vivaldi wishing his violin screamed as sensuous,
Composing this sextet, mind body and souls,
Clear off the counter, sex for dinner, I mean you

I’ve been meaning to do you in the stacks,
Start with flipping you around to read the back, Synopsis
I can see me all over you, digging that smile on your face,
Also down deep – In your; mind.
Thumb your spine as I finger through your pages
Your plot so thick, after I open you up, hard to get enough
And I’m not lazy, I’ll read you cover to cover, without the covers
Stimulating brain function, you got that bomb brain power
This is a nervous center takeover. Synapses screaming take cover!

Quite honestly, no, It’s always honestly. She’s the type of woman where, she’d stay until you told her she couldn’t give you, you couldn’t give her what she wanted. not because you didn’t want to, but because you were doing the best for her, for you, for you too. You just weren’t there, you weren’t in the place that she needed you to be. You know, she was the type of woman that, once she found what she needed, what she wanted… I mean you can’t worry about the best for other people, but once she found what she wanted… that was it for you – You were no more to her. It was gone. And… you smile because you wanna hope that there’s no harsh feelings, there’s no animosity, just… you got what you wanted… If it wasn’t for me, you release quietly, under your breath or in the back of your mind – You wish the best for me, you wish me luck, cause I know I was always rooting for you, but we’re never guaranteed anything. You didn’t have to root for me, I don’t think anyone really did.

I always had time to kill & now time is killing me. 

If You’re Going To Sleep On Me, Don’t Do It In My Bed

Who am I? Well who do you want me to reference? I never made the time to collect all those greats and drop them here; Where are they? I rarely found any, but I knew from the start there was something more unique to the means through which I felt us; I have begun to express. You think it’s about anyone else? Keep thinking. I spent a lot of time not being me, but by doing so I unearthed who I am. For a definition of what an ‘I’ is, you are to look to yourself.

Lose yourself in your desires, and find yourself in my grip. Tell me
to touch, tell me to move, you know me – I’m listening for you,
your mind, Your actions are not lining up! This is something to shout.

I want to believe that this is the closest I can get to your heart, the closest my fan can get to your spark, the closest my vessel can become to housing part of your flame; It’s something I aimed for – No matter the size of the blaze; Each of us has only room for one fire – One innocuous switch from a conflagration. I learned to feel from scratch. By sheer desire to understand: I created this, I tore myself open, and chased down lights I never should have; All to know what it would be like. Even though I knew the answer, I knew what I should do, I grabbed tight to the wrong choice, denounced my voice of reason, and felt so that I could know by experience.

This is not a game. I’m not babbling insanity, you’re sleeping away, and I’m calling you baby. You could at least acknowledge this like you do the Sun; When it creeps through the shades early morning – In blissful resignation you try to pretend with a blind smile that it is not truly the hour to rise and live the mortal life.

I’m fearful. I’m not that strong for what I have to deal with. You know I’m just being impatient. I keep telling you I’ve delivered, and there is no unknown here. You’ve got to wonder, Is this something I will feel for all my days? I remember not knowing I felt this way. It’s hard to imagine for more than the passing of a last train, what it was like to not have an observation of myself – To be unaware that I truly existed and indeed these things within me were screaming to be told. I think it is imperative that I tell you this all, that I am for you; But I do not accomplish this for you – Come on lay down… I know that your heart has nothing to do with your mind, but it’s a beautiful figure of speech to say you love something with all of it.

What a rose – is it time for you to bloom? I don’t recall planting you; What colors will you choose?

If you don’t keep me out of your head,
You’ll never get me out of your bed