One can smack their head on rock bottom only so many times before they wake up, though. And how many time has it been this time around? First were the hunger strikes, and the deadly power-powders were all the rage for a couple years. And too many double dates with dan-jackie and scooter-tooker… Sometimes I miss them so badly- like when I first went in the ocean. I can recall with perfect clarity how the waves pushed against my legs- we had rolled up my jeans in hopes to not stain them with salt water, but damn, how powerful they were! And before I knew it I was rolling in the waves, saturating my skin and hair so that as they dried, the crystals curled and twisted as if they were beckoning them to come to me. I wanted to ask them for something to believe in, because I was losing everything.

And now I’m here again.

with their skyline theighs, slender

and competing with my sleeker eyes,

feeding my doubt while I become

plump and angry with envy.

The lack of my vitality

could slim my body, but for

the courage to stand alone,

bearing flawless and clothless skin

and the fear of disappiontment,

worrying of the infection in your eyes

and watching it spead, slowly

mingling with the contentment

you held for too long,

as they whet my desire

for something more beautiful than I.

would twist this thought

into tendril hopes, but then

leave exhausted in the ashes of

a wild fire, haste all spent in

the heat waves- still

burning the grass.

Wreaths of nature, chains of flesh

hang his charm to buckling

knees so that once been

used and once been set aside,

like collecting dust between

the creases in our skin-

we would be spent.

The beguiler of smiles and teaser of tests

would see fit to that, all envy

would be saved just for the

face value, so we could pawn ourselves

away to a smaller shack,

holding to the comfort of warmth,

and dusting off yesterday’s ashes.

spaces. The dregs hanging from my window

laid down across my arms, my aged willow,

serpentine against my low-lying eternal sigh.

How quiet, these rolling truths spill among

a dire wood. The stones of a lesser

feeling would grumble at my small pleasure

while my fingers danced in a thistle song.

How strange it was, to waken to the sight

of a restless sleep and a sorer throat.

Not to allow my confidence to gloat,

but hard, it’s been to pass a lonely night

to just save face, holding heads high in grace,

and pushing our creatures back into place.

What we got? Well, I think it’s safe to say we got love.

it’s weird to say that again. it makes me wonder, remember the lock? I almost want to ask where it went. if it went somewhere. or if you still have it. not like that’s worth that thought. I mean, why would ya? and why should i care? in a way i guess i can’t help but miss somethings. like when we shared our tears, brushing them from our cheeks and holding the single moments against our hearts, and, i wish this could last forever. the first time i ever had that thought.

in a way, i do. i remember the comfort of you, the pure acceptance for all the things i was and seen for nothing but beauty. but i remember the hypocrisy of it all too, coming back to me like the aftermath of a storm. crashing, the things that went wrong. the moments when i was sad, embarrassed, to be with you.

why, they would ask me. why him?

and i don’t know. there was something that drew me to his smile. the broken glass in his eyes.

and now it’s over. it’s been over for some time now. we are both different people, dynamic and static. the different planes we reached from are now miles away, for better and worse. mostly for better. i’ll hear a message or two, sometimes that vain thought breeches my mind, do you miss me?

would you still want me? i almost ask.

but as soon as i saw those keys, i remembered, everything. and i see, everything. Not one crack is missing in the glass.

you lost the lock by now, i’m sure. you had lost it then.

and what is the worth of keys that don’t belong to any lock?

fearless lyrics sprinkled with

a lil’ voodoo spice, testin’

my taste buds and patience

until i’m spinnin’. And

those silly limerick hymns

swooning over my eyes

will do nothin’ to get me

to break or weaken. the

very effort of your nonchalance

is laughable! what’s your

goal here? to swoon me

or moon me, hash me or

flash me? nah, baby bud,

i’m good.

but I still couldn’t see the stars.

A worthless night, as I laid under my

blanket of qualms. There was no

obscurity in the test, no

correlation that I could calculate.

How can you, when the stars

have no number or recognizable

existence to bear my ends?

I know I couldn’t, the doubt

would shield me from any sort of

terror, the questions left unanswered.

If I am to be cold, let me

at least lay under the stars.

To deny me of that is like

denying me of hope or breath,

the smallest of things that keep

this soul from giving up.

Let me wrap myself

in what I know the best.

Let me watch the stars twist

around my eyes, as if

to taunt me into joining them.

even the pain we both shared.

and even during the days passed in silence,

never has been a day neither cared.

there was never a dull moment.

never a smile to hard to please.

for you have always been my sister,

the Thelma to my Louise.

yes, there were times of sadness.

times of doubt, anger and regret.

but the tides always pull us back together.

especially during the moments to horrible to forget.

“Baby Brother Fuckers Forever”

our old inside joke and jest.

and when the others watched us with curiosity,

we knew we were at our best.

i miss the times with you, my friend.

my fraternal twin from another mother.

like when we would blast our old anthems

and read to one another.

i miss the times like that.

with out books, and broken minds.

anger and passion passing through simple pages,

and shaking our hearts of a different kind.

i even miss the hot nights.

the giggles and obnoxious laughter.

the strange wonder of everyone’s faces

and the pleasure we felt after.

i love you my friend.

this, i know is true.

and i know that you love me

and i will never forget you.

I told myself I would not yield.

I dipped my skin in liquid steel

and donned a heart of iron, and I became

the enigma of strength.

Who knew that such power

would be so cold? I had known

that what wasn’t worse would

only confine me to my previous cage.

It had been cold there,

while I waited, my patience evaporating

while the rest of my body froze.

And what wasn’t worse was warmer,

at least it looked. They wore

no steel, they had softer hearts

and felt no guilt as they flaunted

their infatuation with themselves.

Curiosity, I felt.

To wonder at what wasn’t worse.

To feel warmth, I peeled the steel from my skin

and left my iron heart for the sun,

for it was curiosity.

But in stepping to the sun,

I had never known such warmth,

the comfort was greater than

I had even hoped. Squirming under

the heat waves, I didn’t know what to do,

but to rid myself of all previous

knowledge, to run blindly.

Lost, I am now.

In places warm,

but cold, I feel.