Ritual

hiatus shrugged
finally
and the red wine and the pacing resume
and the solace of
what we spoke
and what we believe
all wrapped in the songs
we compose in our heads from the ones
we're dedicated to.

to have you here
and share
the ink of our convictions
and the love
we dare tread upon
and god help us
if we stray from the
reality of being alive.

i can wrap these rhythms
and these sensations
of a wooden floor
and steel strings
and wide glasses
and the everpresent infusion
of shared cigarettes.

i beathe it all
and you all
and my everything
back and forth
and regurgitated lovingly
for the conjugation
of the wreckoning of intimacy.

feel these arms
and i will wrap them
around you with
the truth of conviction
and the solemn beauty
of this palliating ritual.

chewing ball wanting connected
crushing blow and falling short

there are times, dear reader, when i sit in front of this box of networks, stumped and feeling cut off from millions of connections and other identities. times when the power of wanting to connect cannot overcome the lack of proximity. this tool i champion daily in my head and sometimes out loud is a fickle bitch, occasionally denying the pleasure it bestows. occasionally turning that pleasure, that greatness of discovery and relation, into a pulverizing ineptitude andf failure. the knowing of sweetness translating into the shock of denial or loss.
when an idea strikes you through incremental channels and the very delay of the discreet users denies the proper development of the idea. or perhaps the need of instantaneousness just becomes too great. is that greed?
running faster than your feet allow. the shortness of media illustrating the folly of assumption.
what a fucking drag. what a fucking defeat.
i am consumed with glut and lust of a pure thing. innocence reverted to bad posture, or something just like it.

i don't know what to tell you, dear reader. all i have are these current fragments, perhaps undecipherable, to help us on our way through all of this. i guess all i can really tell you is that you have to take that jump, make that decision, and just fucking get on with it. should we lay in wait, contemptuous of that perfection that may or may not come? should we abstain from discomfort in the interest of safety? should we harbour the fear that makes life flightless and bound to the warm cave we take shelter in?
parhaps. but i don't assume these caves to be homes. i try not to set up a permanent shop there. these comforts of aloneness and unwavering emotional thrifts are really only meant to be bivouacs on the paths to connections. connections with this world, these people. these fragments.
fuck blankets. fire warms this body.

In The Grip Of Progress

Chewing nails
and glancing darts at the door.
Trembling fails
and falling parts on the floor.
Hiding stales
and beating hearts that are sore.
Still prevails
and Courage marches to war.

Damage Deposit

Five-fifty tightens
the jump in to migration.
Downtown beckons
in arms of anxiety.

Don't try to plan for disaster.
Relief isn't in that bug-out bag.

Tight hot ball stomach knot
in a pitch swirling
bubble and seethe
and lick and fly.

Release and breathe.

Reconnectconstruction
of a new shape
where
the view from seven
looks into infinite eyes
of potential heaven.

Further and further away
from a kind of comfort
and in to another
danger
more impressive.

Get Away

roped up and
contact pinioned.
strands collidied
tie down murder.

can't seem to shake
the tumor turmoil.
shirk unable
grasp of plenty.

everything after
gladly scuttled.
backwards listing
new abandon.

freedom call
withheld in solace.
reach release
the past affliction.

forward bound
struggle two step.
climb the eyes
of monolithic.

Nails

slick stiletto colour
drawing the red beads freely
ache at the thought of what is
temporarily out of sight
scrutinizing a tenfold manipulation
a tracing of
filed rain drops sharp
and drumming
on this skin

Attempt the Merge

could i
have another piece of this
could i spare one?
and i
wonder at the whole of this
and i share none
and i
see the sum of all of this
and i square one
could i
handle all the parts of this
could i bare some?

here
you are against my face
here
tempting me into this space
here
we are above the hole
here
piecing parts to make a soul

and i
could i
become?
and i
could i
become?
and i
could i
become?

and i
could i?