its all just a bit arbitrary: salt.

i’m feeling the salt.
miniscule pebbles
creating super-sized tensions.
who knew something so small
would erupt like that?
could erupt like that.

this salt on my tongue,
on my fingers, my feet,
my legs, my head, my self,
comes with the coming of you,
new love.

the lack in comfort combined
with increasing levels of nervousness
and imaginary sodium between us
molds a
good excuse not to lean over.

but I’m wanting to
in a relative sense.
simple decisions are dragging me along.
and
i’ve never seen a carpet road,
i don’t know why I thought it would be different
this time down.

true(ly) love(less)

so they say
true love
never
dies.

it never fades out
to blackness
while you
sit on the edge of the sofa
watching the horror
and the solitude
close in,
break out
around the edges
of your crossing eyes.
eyes that land on a single
featureless feature.
trivial to the moment.
basking in your attention.
or your lack of focus.

oh, but no worries,
oh but allright.

true love doesn't
do that to you.
it doesn't desert you
keep you hanging,
or pacing,
or crying,
or empty,
in the middle of the night
slipping back and forth
in
darkness and silence
and worry and anger.
the pressure meter switched to full blast
breaking the knob
leaving you stuck.

no.

its

perfection.
true love?
glorious.

what makes it true?
honesty, purity, clarity
where, when, how.
in love.
inside of love.
honesty? purity? clarity?

the knowledge
that
this is not that
leaves me turning corners
of mazes with no peepholes
or hints
or fountains of wisdom.
blunted, blind, fumbling.
what am i here, then?
who are you
and all of those lovers?

truly loveless?

we keep crumbling
and wilting
and falling
and degrading
back into the dirt.
back into the insecurity.
back into the nonsense.
back into the distraction.
back into the noiselessness.

experiences, moments,
infatuations, passions.
human tensions
human love.

good enough to be truth?
good enough to be pure?
is good enough even good enough?

so what are we?
all of the lovers
that are aware,
knowing that
we aren't true,
we aren't everything
we aren't perfect
or whole
or enough

but we love just the same.

its all just a bit arbitrary: out.

so computer,
so so computer.
here, computer me.
so so me.

volume up
to down to
up, down
but the bars go sideways.

indecisive.

slam!
or crunch?
crunch?
shrug, shrug.

yeah well,
who slammed out?
yeah well,
i don't really know.

i wasn't really there.
i wasn't in,
i wasn't on.
but i heard you slam.

slam out.

and who are you?
and who are you there?

why does it?
does it tell me
when you've slammed out
when i don't want to know.

i don't want to hear.
not when i've

i've slammed out,
and i don't want to know.
but i know.
when you slammed out.

but who are you?
who has slammed out?
gone out,
left out.

out,
out,
out with you!

go out,
breathe out,
make out,
bleep out,
freak out,
peek out,
blank out,
break out,
black out,
sneak out,
oh boy its
bleak out.

and a ha-ha,ha,
and a ha-ha,ha,

and who are you?

lover i can not pretend

warning: what you are about to read is not a poem of romance, or of times spent infatuated, lost and lovestruck in the most loveless of ways. this is a poem about love.

whites
blend to greys
to blacks
to greys
into whiteness.

grey into
morning
into daytime
into grey
into nighttime
into grey.

grey pulses,
grey passions,
pleadings,
pleasures,

grey placement
under the grey sun
freezing, harsh.
the grey blood in my veins
doesn't break through
my grey skin.

without you.
without you.

sunsets are turned to ashes,
falling through the skies,
reaching into this earth
flooded with despair,
solitude, briskness,
no breath for moments.

moments of color,
of light,
of hope.

and what does that taste like?

do you remember the taste of strawberries?

no sam, i can't recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water, nor the touch of grass. i'm naked in the dark..

the stars shine in my blackened sky,
like rocks hidden in the dust,
here without you.

the warmth of the earth,
and presence around me,
surrounds me, is gone.

i shiver and shake,
no presence but my own,
and this is not enough.

the flavors of this life,
pass through my tongue,
to tastelessness, and i am left
with the bitterness of nonexistance.

and i'm choking,
and i'm trying to cry out,
what veils me?
what veils me from you
my love, my lover?

find me.

here without you.

i am faking love,
and it tastes nothing like you,
i am faking comfort,
compassion,
my life, i am faking,
faking it all to stand up.

but i've crumbled so many times
and arms of flesh and blood and bone
can not hold me down,
or hold me tightly,
in comfort or captivity,
for i have felt the arms of fire,
that engulf me,
set me ablaze,
radiance everlasting.
and no passion,
no fire burns as brightly,
i will not turn away.

my heart

i drew my heart
pink
perfect
pulseless.

i took the black
and i held it to the side
of the heart.
of my
heart.

cross one,
pull it back,
zag two,
pull it back,
across and over
and across again.

it became beautiful
as it was shredded apart,
ripped at, torn.

who is facing?
to whom beheld?

i am my heart,
dead and faking,
you can be you, black to me,
ripping me apart.

who are you?
are you aware of what you've done,
what your doing?

who are you?
who are you?