They don’t compare

a buried treasure

all the way to the bottom

tightened pleasure

all the way to the bottom.

Breathing in

deeper into you

missed embrace a single trace

live embrace and us face-to-face

they don’t compare.

Feeding the light

the sweeping tidal wave

never away

No Way.

Diving deeper

down to the bottom

and all I need

is you

 

Transit station

eleven at night

the mass climbs

on anything that moves.

Patience for the station

the train lights run all night

ticket with only one

name

and one stop

Writing to appease a voice.

Writing to appease the nights I no longer want to wake.

Writing to soothe the morning after.

the screams that echo through

mortified chambers and only tender

flesh can ease his consciousness.

Writing to soothe the demons that pursuit.

Writing to find a voice

Writing is a voice.

shared meal peaking under the crimson rays for peaking skin.

breaking in over two stories a low cal cuisine dinner and a liquor store.

never checked into a scheduled nooner and never felt the whip of the moon on our backs.

dealing presents in secret

blessing in moderation

and they will thank him.

The family before left blood on there heels

walking in the night feeding the fears

and our dreams will be vicious.

Presents in moderations

and blessings in secret

a new day hero

I think about it everyday

the courage I lack

the courage I want

to walk around in a suit

of a better me.

 

The green trails

lead down the path

to a new color

to a new

a new suit

 

a suit that I’ll share

a suit for us.

So real she reached her hand

for another

fingers fall through

in heat

of a shadow.

Fizzles of smoke swirl

in a container left vacant

charmed to the glass

dancing in her palm adjacent

to be admired.

Rolled back

iris glows a ghastly

night and stars

walking and free

we walk.

Sweet surrender of a knife of faith

on a chilly holiday weekend.

Rear view mirror fogs

and the quiet of her lips bound

tightly

suffocating the white around his finger tips.

Chest beats around his clinch

balancing her like a scale

on a moon

and the taste of honey

springs down his lips.

The Churches said it well.

Catered to the individual

solemn bells rang

the light pierced the sanctum

and we evolved.

Not in belief

in expression.

words exchange.

Stocked the cupboard

the same Sunday afternoon

stocked full

for thee to come.

And the light will corress our skin

and linger.