Process

I don’t care that you’re an ok stud to begin with
It’s your transformation from a frog to a king; is what turns me on
It’s your metamorphosis from a beetle bug to a ruler of a massive castle
A dirt at the bottom of my shoe to a dynamite
An eerie ghastly thing
To something so tangible, tasteable, finger licking sweet
Something so cold and hard; now sunny and malleable
It’s your aura; it’s the truth
It binds me from the back
Your arms reaching out
For a grasp
And there’s no turning back…

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Cliff point

It’s like the spot on the edge of a cliff
Fingers and the heart are sort of numb and blazing hot
The only difference is, that we never fall

Like a horizon that’s never touched by the sinking sun
No warm jacket on a cold night
Thriving sea of emptiness
Yet this feeling of never alone

Work that’s tied to a meaning
Restless dreams that keep living
A vision of an idealistic world that we’ve admired

Seasons that change, but that are full of hopes
Sweet stuff, sweet words, sweet dreams
All those things, pulled from inside a magician’s hat

Fantasy is where you are
Like a shooting star with bits of lingering shimmer, even after I close my eyes

Like infinite dust sprouting from a cyclone in the desert
The howling of the winds in scary nights
Amid sadness, deep pain, and restlessness

Like an unfinished free verse

That’s where we seem to linger

Dance on the musical notes in a paper
Appear and disappear in vinyl images
Get embossed in the burning red fire

We’ve promised to give our lives several times before
We’ll promise several times after
I’ll never find you
You’ll never find me
In any direction but this point on the cliff’s edge

 

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Our oasis

I’d go to the end of the world for you babe. To the core of this great old rock, high up in the sky, whatever you want me to say. I’ll say it. Our story’s mapped out in the palms of our hands, and when we place them together, the stars align. We’d live in a forest babe, and I promise you we’d only focus on the necessary. There’s nothing like kissing you in the warm rain; I love the way your lips melt. There’s green all around and the echos of endangered birds; so rare to find. We dig dirt and wash our hands in rain. I wash you in the rain. Your body, your wet hair against my fingers. I just can’t get enough. Sweat and rain, salt and warmth, gentle smile. I could have you for all my life, I wouldn’t mind. Silly games, bad jokes, and kisses all the time; I wouldn’t mind. We do it all the time. Mud, red sand, and green everywhere.

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My man, embedded in a leaf

Caught up in this fire brigade
I forget where you are sometimes
Behind the tree leaves
Of a distant paradise
It’s where I want you belonging
Free and happy
Viable and beautiful
No gray clouds cast over your skies
Limitless possibilities
Smiling, playing with rocks
I just want to see you happy
Like this
It’s what gives me joy
Your eyes
Forever imprinted in the leaves
Your eyes through the shreds of a leaf
Colorful gem
Against the deep green
Looking at me

Street dogs and humans

Amid a pack of male dogs who gather around a female and have a hormonal frenzy, there’s also a street dog who walks besides a human that he claimed, or that claimed him, vice versa. They sit on the stairs to the closed store at night outside, and when the human figures that it’s time to head back home to his shitty life, the street dog gets up and walks next to him. They walk slowly at night; the man with both his hands in his pockets, and the dog agilely on his four little legs. They disappear into the dark. There’s packs of dogs in different gangs who cry together at night, who howl by the moon, and little rascals who tip toe cunningly inbetween moving street car lights. They sit by the roads, they walk with the humans. They bark at each other when there’s disputes with other four legged archnemeses. The world flows like a dog that zig zags inbetween cars and moving people. The world chills like the dogs that cuddle next to dirt by the side of the road. There’s humans who walk on four limbs from disabilities, and there’s dogs who walk on three limbs from injuries. Yet they’re just there; chillin like villians. These dogs are so smart and badass; even if they may have a short life span. It’s much better than getting your balls cut off and being put on a leash or cooped up inside containment for the rest of your life. Or get put to sleep by the hands that feeds them. The street dogs always seem a bit rough, but they’re so much wiser and free. Life isn’t easy for them, but that’s what makes them striking.

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