long Ago

that one little girl i always wanted,
was left deep beneath soul-less lovers
when all i wanted to be was to truly know

i left and why did she go with me?
was there any reason for her not to go?
there was no reason to stay here.

emerged in her endless poetry,
no longer did i have to give the world a try,
for we both knew-
if completely immersed in each other-
we
would
truly
melt.

but why did i?
go with my knowing?
that the world is only one way?
listen to harsh cruelties,
an evermore
is no an in no more.


evolve


to a place no one ever lives
what even in these words i have no sacanity.
death doth consumes her
the one who knows body is art
yet there was no passion
only my little girl fingers dieing to trace at her within my arms
i could not know
an only forever power
that never truly rules
when the only true tattoo one could pretend to have was
love
and yet
what it is meant
of that etched into skin?
nothing much long lasting,
not even of the trees
skin the great demise
and suffrage of all ages.

no title

If I keep writing and you keep driving maybe we will come to the ocean's edge no need for fear or any worries cause this life is here.
If you keep singing and I keep painting our lives will be filled with color for art is in the music and the music is in you so let's keep this going.

Today is the First Day

Just like all the other days.
But with a tinge more of remorse.
Retrospect-
What could else I have done.
Left alone, for endless hours.
No place left to run.
Find one final lovers arms and say
secrets to be kept.

But nevertheless and never any more things are never what they seem although adored.
Take me out into the snow,
push me down
and you let me go.

The Street (Port 2.)

The spark of light
brings power to
the skies.

Winds of summer
circle the trash encrusted
back light streets.

Dirty.

The World.

Stealing ideas from
beneath street lamps.

Searching for anything new,
distinct.

When the world has lived
and the world has died.

Why do we
try to reach
heavenly heights?


(For the angles.)

Ink Pen (Port. 1 [Poetry])

Pen plunged into the vein,
Black ink winds throughtout the room,
penetrating the body that holds the story.
[Spreads.]
Arteries know the awnser why this world is
full of an unending cancer.
City streets are where you find
Little girls who cut their minds off.
Their hands are unbindingly tied;
wrath no longer concretes their ideas.
Long lost in the prophet-less desert time
Sing me to sleep with iconic dreams
Said like a one no longer here.
Dear,

Life Left Living

Tap into the vein
just once more
relieve the pain
so you can be no more.
The essence of truth
all that has ever been.
You know too much.
The powers of this planet
were not meant to be found.
Take me out
Lay me down
Put my words
back into the ground.
Burry me
Kill the scilene
Take what wasn't yours
This will be over.

To You

You probably aren't out there, I will never know you. You are that girl that looks like all the girls I have ever knowen with my heart. You are all of everything that would be found. You are the essence and the flowers and the trees. You are the grasses that blow with your hair. You are my dreams. I've knowen you in so many ways, yet always been so far from reaching you.
You will probably never know I'm watching you.
But you will always be my love.
My sunlight, pale skinned, perfect love.