"Feel the water. I mean really feel it."

The air is static. The fan buzzes and I am absent. 

"The waves, they respond to you."

Drastic and subtle, simultaneously.

"The waves, they are you."

Ebbing an flowing, frequently.

"Now drown in it."

Tell me. 

Tell me. 

The phrases are empty;

drought with discomfort. 

You lie to me.

Tell me. 

Tell me I am wrong and impeded. 

Tell me I am caught, 

yet completed. 

Tell me. 

Minutes take all the time. 

I am lost in rhyme.

Tell me. 

The vision is blurred with age. 

No one has been the sage here. 

We are all lost.

You have not lost me. 

When is the time?

When do we know? 

I am bleeding the seconds.

I am losing the flow. 

Lose me.

Loose me. 

Let. Me. Go. 

Point is,

I've losr what the course is...

the puzzle is disjointed.

I am lost at the beginning.

Peace is

just another way to comfort the uncomfortable...

just another way to lie to the unwanted...

just a joke.

There is no solace in silence. 

Take

up

arms.

roll her

coast her

the drown 

the flip

it's castenets 

moral fits

give me space to admit

i was lost in this

metamorphosis

collective thought

the verses wrought

a riptide

there is no space bought

that could buy the solace 

of bolstered pride

cast down the burdened idol

reveal the solid plot

the so no blessed ego here

fuck your presence 

fuck your fear

give way the fallen spiral

consequence 

is negligence

the space left festering

questioning

survival of the fittest

the principle is witness

all we have to give it 

no matter what the cost is

live it

pick apart the pieces

stuck together

glued together

tear apart by inches

tiny bits

broken parts

give them to the recesses

dark spaces

or open fields

give them up to replace them

with a deep hull

a solid shield

if i were any less a man 

i'd save it

tuck it away

keep it safe

if i were any less a man

You'd see it

fuck,

my Heart is seeping gold

and i don't want to stop it

The division in me is 

forced eyes.

Follow the fulcrum,

the pendulum, 

the transient hands

that hold them.

Sweep the membrane.

Chase the vein. 

This is not who I am.

The truth is relative

-to the teller-

and I'm not so much dishonest 

as much as

unable

to decipher

the way the world works

and my cog's position in it

but we both keep turning.

You are an ocean away

in that vacant seat.

We were love on display

and now we are rotting meat. 

The mirror is clean

a work of art

fit to prove

the lesser truths

that are an arsenal.

There is more to me than this. 

There is no more of me than this.

Dark face and weary eyes

The silence is never wasted

And the words all say themselves

At exactly the right the right time

Which was not spent miserly 

Or a spendthrift.

Furrowed brows and dripping cheeks

You don't have to speak.

Or give response

Let the world disappear 

And come back when you are ready

I knew your face

and your mother's;

knew your eyes,

your smile.

Her hair's gone gray.

You remembered me

but I guess I've made myself a display.

Forty-five minutes of baring bones

and somehow that voice

changed things.

I have so little to give the world. 

My guts

are just

made of poisonous things

but there I was,

smiling.

The bees are busy

(what's left of them, anyway)

and the frogs and crickets and cicadas 

like so many castanets

fill up the silence. 

The road ends here

culminating in a gravel drive

that slides up to the house 

reminding me that everything ends. 

Everything is temporary.

Here, you live with snakes and spiders.

Just be careful taking them to bed with you.