the high road they called it.

Speaking theory and false

idols they called it.

Beseeched a cast off to the

watery bin marked Wilson.
Ruling side by side on an island.
Heavenly winds cross along

their finger tips. Cool waves

gently brush against their timid

hides. Ooh paradise tasted like 

Margarita’s.
Until the waves ran dry. The wind’s

blades cut like a guillotine.
Window showers pass the road

only to find themselves on

an island.

Field tested stone washed soles

walk the bloody truth.

Nights of transmute and 

conversion into something
greater.

They laughed at your cries

of possibilities of tomorrow.

Now they stumble on the

cores you left behind.
No one

is unique.

Transferred overnight

and left in the Terminal.
Perfect dissolves into normal,

now, we are all super.

Fluent moderate could compose.

Lacking direction

a sense of where she is going

or where she should.
Standing on the map of

her district, borderline.

Raised to look left, yet,

right thee tempted dangle
in a web of their own doing.

The fluent moderate could

weave the purest silk.  Tied

individual too the post
of her own accord.

She whispered in my dreams

“Live.”
Attempting to shatter these

invisible shackles from an

unhabbited being. Have I

been walking with these
my whole life? The lens

she gripped with her cream

palms brewed color streams

together like Skittles.

I need to taste that rainbow.

Been too naive for rudimentary

it’s elementary my dear Watson,

Live.

Hey hi hello

you said before the crowd.

Challenging our demeanor

for all to hear. Cries

of lost humanity on

the brink of darkness
or as you said,
the end of life.

Crying for loss

and begging for a tomorrow,

one that was promised

with these same fist.

Silent sky on a screaming night.

 

Lose light silently over

the peak horizon.

It’s screaming back

with red in his lungs

 

peak guns

red smoke

single stroke

on a screaming night.

 

He couldn’t pull the trigger.

Mind dancing on limbo

on a lonely island

staring the flare in the eye

 

below a silent sky.

 

 

“Share the chair,”

the wise woman shared.

There is room for two

it’s not all about you
she’d always tell us.
Fuck that. My ass has

been next to yours for

far too long and you can

find your own. He’d bekon
the blade in his back,

“Share the chair.”

There is always room for

two.
As the king sits alone

on his throne
he finds the knife

in his lost
chair.

Put a bow on it. It’s me

I’ve wrapped carefully

between snowman and

sly penguins. A tinkered
trinket passed from father

to father lost, forgotten,

than resurfaced. I’m

not going to make it to
next Christmas. I’ll leave

it under the tree next

to your Mustang with a tag

must stay. Don’t lose it, I
put a bow on it.

Oh Captain My Captain:

I salute you.

You never know the

change, until someone

changes it for you first.
Delude my spirit and

my mind will carry me.

End our life and

our hearts will live on.
Oh Captain My Captain:

I can see the tears behind

the mask. You spent

your last three wishes

on us.
I’ll challenge the not

on the blade of love

so these wonder gifts

don’t end yours here.
R.I.P. Robin~

Blood has been drawn.

Words echo through the Chambers for

eternity. Your apologies

matter not in this duel.
Match volume for volume

scream from the top of our covers

Blood has been drawn.

Your words will never leave
this cavity. Somber sleeps have

ceased. Our suite is no longer

sweet. And now

we rest our voice for
tomorrow’s screech.