if you could feel the blood 

coming off my bones

in the sheer hopeless strapping

of me

and all that I am

buried beneath who you are

and all that you want

me to be..

if you could feel the vibrations 

that start in my head

and end in crescendos 

of doubt,
stirring up panic

and endless remorse

‘neath the time worn cracked floorboards

and grout…

if ever you stopped

for a moment past you

and looked for a second 

where i,

would sit huddled in shadows

of hope gone all wrong

just scratching in skin

to get by…

if process prevailed 

and air took its toll

and clouds moved by

what could have been, 

perhaps in past death

of a soul once worth hope 

would lie life that never

was seen..

..and if sun ever came 

and my face ever showed

and my thin arms could ever 

lift me,

perhaps there in fielding

of all that you’re not

would lay seeds of what i

might be…

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i couldnt rhyme it if I tried. 

teach me how to roll cookies again

ill pretend I don’t know how at all 

only to see your hands

nearby mine oh! once more 

likd they were in our time

now in peace..

in mellificent way

while holding  my hands

in soft love 

in the sacred embrace of

your own,

I’d give all of my hours 

just for minutes of you

here in deepest of pains

borne of cost..

oh! to see perfect face 

of the one who sees me

care not for scars of love

or love lost. 

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floures para los muertos

do you know how much I need you?

how much I can’t be me?

how all that i see

and all that I want 

is limited by that hint

of you?

in eternal space 

of lifelong pain 

where only you

ever crawled,

i suffer still

in need of your arms

and search for breath

once more. 

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darkened nude in sunburnt fog

and what if this?

is all it is

in naked form

and all..

where silence reflects

back to back

so missing 

natures call,

beyond the moon

in darkened sky

afraid of sunlights


then missing all

the possible


by frightened turn. 

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chardonay in G

stay here in

my tangled breath

beneath that sultry


in pussy willowed

slickened treat

avowed in pulsing 


thus held on tight

to bucking hips 

and tied pure heartstrings 


in tethered wish 

of hearts long held 

whence left for 

lovers right 

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the wilted flour girl. 

i need to call you now. 

i do. 

it’s more than i

can bear.

in hailing pain 

of who i am

and why you left

me here. 

i want to move 

my hands in ways 

that build

the world you see

and feel again

the way it felt

when you were

holding me. 

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closing time?

let the frightening world

come banging in

upon my wounded 


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