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Empty classrooms fill

with sounds of learning until

Nature dismisses.

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Flakes of creation pranced Infinite bound

Cosmic darkness, clashing gray puffed clouds and

Rustic fields fortuned by dandelion wisps

Wailing against ocean deep canvas clouds

Simulations clamored red eyes of stardust

Novae laughter locked light kevlar hatred,

Platelets scurried to sparred rifts, en garde new

Hell ten year holocaust, sauna mist drowns

Arctic iced whiskey cup; talk and talk 00-4

Burn every nuclear home- just as you did

Before. Aims wished sanctuary ashes

Away, Cowells at bay staring into

Fiery magma fins, sweet tangerine walls

Lashing tepid shed roof, wooden spine squeals

Sundered focal synapse: revolution

Revved as bumbling coupe engine, medals granted

Devil’s tongue spiraling in ears of young agents,

Hard fought! Clouded Cowells picked up Book of Dreams

Ripped page of Love, evolving revolver

Squandered, point, aim, shoo. Entity Aims access

To Oceanside granted. Prepare for War.

00-4 said in a gravelly commanding voice,

Legion gravitas dissipating, next

Awaits. Cowells gait slow and militant.

Neon mist crisp emerald blades, residue like

Faint oasis dreams, crystalline waterfalls

Splash weary leafy seams, above seas collapse;

Foggy fingers clasp to new day's sanguine glove.

Crisp autumn air reveals trails of clotted char

Streaks, livid vinyl crackles popped coffin den,

Devils suited, cloaked, petrified by plasma

Cotton candy haze- Hellfires spin to HQ.

Colt clipped, one round chambered, boulevards

Freshly lit, Coupe consumes tar roads, Gaul Heights

Prowling, sirens scatter pedestrian

Wards, youth inhale rotten flesh stench, plasma

Churns, gurgling cotton candy vents, cherry

Swirls unwind tonight's chapter. Petrified

Breath batters Book of Dreams, fresh yellow pages

Glow elliptical, Eden returns to mind

Drink the witches brew, swirling raspberry

Chamber drools cold exhaust, nights cost sanity

Coupe swerves with turbo thrust, escape the plains;

Pink city bound, cruel bars claw tinted glass,

Aims inhales midnight smog, tar fuses flesh

Late teens talk tactics, plain fashion, laughs

Echo sidewalks, alleys, veins of the city

Report to HQ command- dropoff- engage…

Cowells brushes onyx curls, ladies lurk drunk;

Quick punch paces livened liver, quiver

Unleashes snake chain gun ballistics, strange

Dame lights red and blue skyline- minds eye trails…

Dips, scrolls; Doom is imminent, intimate

Encounters flower Aims tequila shots:

Call me love, late in my premonition;

Navy blue tears confide in war torn lands

I know where you lurk:

Devil's Den

New Disciples.

I claim Heaven as my Hell

Paradise supplied in layers

Digital players spike

Cherry peace.

Flee

I lost my best friend and 31 year companion about 19 months ago. So this will be a memorial.

We met at 19. Oddly enough, we were both at a party the night before, in a small apartment, and didn't run into each other.

The night we met, her friends (and my friends, we just didn't know each other yet) invited me specifically because I smoked pot, and they didn't know anyone else who did. My wife, Kat, was a lovable person. She was petite, and many people made the assumption that she was weak. I promise you, she was not. In their circle of friends, I was the only one that smoked (which is really hilarious, since in my circle, I smoke the least).

We met. I acted like an ass (I mean, I was a 19 year old male, in the 90s, so that was really expected). I forget the actual chain of events, but she wound up over my shoulders. We had our first kiss when she was upside down. That probably defined more than I knew.

We spent the rest of the party together. Nothing complicated, just talking and getting to know each other. We shared a small bedroom for the evening. We didn't get physical but talked and kissed for like the next 6 hours or so. It was a beautiful evening.

There was no second date. From that night, we were together. I'm not going to pretend we didn't have rough spots. A committed relationship takes work and time and conversation. It was amazing. We grew up together, not like a childhood fantasy, but we were adults and leaned on each other.

We both came from poverty and lack of power (hers was far worse than mine). We compared our pasts and clung to each other to find something better. Most of our lives were spent doing the opposite of what we were taught by family. We both knew our scars and decided a different path was needed.

There are moments when you can see the universe split. I distinctly remember the morning before her nephew's graduation party. It was pre-child. We did our tai-chi workout in the morning. We were so in sync it was beautiful. That night, we drove north to the party, and her mother told her that she was the reason that she and her father got divorced. (BTW, totally not the case, she was the child of an affair).

That night, part of her broke. Like, my parents were assholes, especially my father, but never did they put a blame of their relationship on me. It was devastating, on so many levels. I helped her (as best I could) to pick up the pieces.

Not too long afterword, her mother developed breast cancer (which spread everywhere). That inspired our decision to procreate. While her mother was dying, we decided to contribute to her legacy. Watching her mother interact with my spouse (and eventually my daughter) was eye-opening. The woman had a lot of issues and foisted them onto her offspring.

Life became more and more complicated after her mother passed. I don't think we were adequately prepared for the emotional toil. That was the moment the decline began.

We had decades of stress after that. There were a lack of resources to help. That's for sure. It just became harder and harder. Stress was a trigger for my wife's health. We did our best. I still love the shit out of that woman. But her illness eventually overcame her.

My birthday, October 28, is the last day we went out together.

December 23, two days before Chrismas, was when she was admitted to the hospital.

January 1, was our last anniversary together.

January 16, which was MLK day that year, was her last day on Earth.

February 1, was the first birthday of hers I celebrated without her.

I'm a wreck from at least my birthday through valentine's day. 5 months a year I remember the greatest love of my life.

It's a small price to pay. From my understanding, most people don't get that. I've been truly blessed.

I want to be as pretty as a daisy.

To be a flower in the weeds

With pretty white petals that make people crazy.

Oh to be in the ground

With the sun shining all-day down,

Feeling all hazy and less than a pound.

I want to be as beautiful as a butterfly,

Colorful and deadly,

Searching for only an easy lie.

When the moonlight comes out

I want to reflect a shine so bright

That makes everyone without a pout.

I want to make others full of light,

As I'm all alone in the dark,

Trapped in the deep of the night.

Once they get what they need

I’m left again in solitude,

Oh just waiting to finally bleed.

Long before there was Taylor, there was Tom

August 09, 2024

Midnight, mourned Tom (almost) morningly

You come and pick me up, no headlights, said Tom brilliantly

Long drive, as Tom motored his mouth

Could end in burning flames or paradise, as Tom spoke in an incendiary manner

Fade into view, oh (effortlessly evanescent as always)

It's been a while since I have even heard from you (heard from you) for Tom raged silently

And I should just tell you to leave 'cause I, as Tom trespassed in the middle of a thought

Know exactly where it leads, but I, spoken by Tom anticipatingly

Watch us go 'round and 'round each time, said Tom circuitously.

You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye, spoken by Tom in a GIANT way

And I got that red lip classic thing that you like commented Tom peckingly

And when we go crashing down, we come back every time, as Tom presumes again

'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style (Tom is fashionably late here)

You got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt, addressed Tom

And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt, as Tom skirted the issue

And when we go crashing down, we come back every time, Tom spoke repeatedly

'Cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style as Tom postulated demodedly

I often wonder why you hate me

There has to be a reason for all the regret

A reason why I'm so good at telling a lie

Because I'm scared of you being upset

You treat me like I'm paper

I used and abused

Written on til I'm all black

And blue, torn and bruised

Lying comes easy

They just slip right off my tongue

Tell my friends I'm fine

I've been doing it since I was young

I live in a house, not a home

You make sure I'm terrified

Of ever being alone

Of being the girl who only tried

Very first job

At the age of fourteen

Postpubescent dreams

Of what twelve dollars a week can buy

From under the table

To the cash in my pocket

Burning a hole

Just on Sundays

4 AM till noon

But the bakers were there by midnight before

The trays of donuts won't move themselves

No dough is wasted

Even the holes get glazed

Like the one burning my pocket

No donut is wasted

Even the ones that fall from my tray

En route to the front

Bounce on the type of floor

That only a bakery could have

"Good thing it fell on the paper"

But there is no paper! Ha!

Nothing is wasted

Raspberry injections and powdered patina

Doberge masterpieces and red velvet cake

And petits fours and pies for the pie hole

And confections doled out

To the masses attending

Their hourly Masses

Them coming and leaving

Then leaving and coming

In hourly waves

For the ourly faves

26 minutes past each Communion

The body of Christ

And the sugar of Mr. Wedding Cake

Are digested together

Going home with the sweets

And clean souls

For only a week

Till next week

The next Friday and Saturday nights

Push them again

To their Masses on Sundays

And me, the middle man

From the back to the front

From the baking to the selling

From the selling to the banking

Today I remembered my spoon

BIG

As I pass by that vat

FAT

I ready it

A vat where the icing on the cakes

Was planed so evenly

FLAT

Dropping the sugar fallout and trim

The faulty flowers

That don't deserve to be on a

Mr. Wedding cake

Scraped into that vat – my vat

Of multicolored cortices

Of Michelangelo sculptures

Before chipping out saccharine Pietàs

Where my spoon lands squarely

And dives deeply

To render a spoonful of diabetes

Into a postpubescent waiting mouth

Each pass in moving

The trays that won't move themselves

From the back to the front

All the mouthfuls possible but once a week

From 4 AM till noon

My dentist awaits

But banish the thought

And don't bring me down

For a life hyperglycemic

While postpubescent

Is the sweet life worth living

I notice the little things

like how you don't ask me to text you when I get home anymore

like how you keep asking me questions about dating

like how you keep mentioning this girl

like how I can slowly see you drifting away

like how bad that hurts me when I don't have the right to feel that way

like how you were never mine

like how you never will be

My head was on your chest

Your arms were on my waist

I finally felt at rest

But I guess I wasn't your taste

Were you thinking of her

When we hugged

My mind felt like a blur

When you just shrugged

Why did you drag me along

If you knew who you'd choose

I actually thought we belonged

And then you called truce

Now I'm left in the debris

While you're all smiles

I feel like you can't see me

As our distance increases in miles

It takes about a month to break a habit

But its been 7

And I'm still around

It takes about 4 weeks to break a habit

But its been 28

And you're still on my mind

It takes about 30 days to break a habit

But it has been 196

And I still look for you in every room

It takes about 720 hours to break a habit

But its been 5040

And you still have all my trust

It takes about 2592000 seconds to break a habit

But its been 18144000

And I still love you