Oasis


A sandstone well in the oasis of an urbanization
fits impossibly precise to the brick shells strangers call home.

I draw from that well, pulling muddied water
soiled from the community’s negligence and I drink some.

Each sip brings me closer to an exorcism of the demons
I cannot fight, fear is formless, and heated ropes sear my hands.

Again, deceit passes my lips entering a chamber of secrets
and it floods, unfortunately, my demons know how to swim.

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Chagrin


Furrowed chagrin colors my face
streaming profusely, still yet to be
streamlined as rough, unidentified edges
bound and actively define the
tunnels cut through tears that salt
and erode, once dimples, making stale
my favorite smile.

Prohibition


I declare a prohibition, to
ban the way we contest change,
dry up currently whetted appetites
that hunger for war, conflicting,
pedestrian ideas and ideals
promoting each other’s assumed lesser.

Backlash burns silently
smoldering, tears blind those
already living without sight, mixing
tears mix with the heat of untouched friction of words
rubbing-together, concocting a chemical cleanse
aggravating all the senses.

If This Is Me


A two a.m. reflection dazes me, as
if this is me:

If this is me, I,
still remember to never forget you, too.
If this is me, you know.

You know I think about you,
wondering meanwhile, how am I.
If this is me, speaking clearly in private
unable to let gravity pull those words
into and out from my mind.

If this is me, walk softly: dance
around my reflection with your eyes.
Tread the water that fills mine
and float slowly out of sight if
this is me,

just know that patience drifts
on with the two forevers that
have haunted me since I realized
it is me not you.

Natural Holocaust


A natural Holocaust rages, today
tearing away at the elderly standing
for decades and now, overturned.
It consumes, burning brightly a
condolence candle composed of acres
melting together in ashen soil.
It denies, habitual homes and
dewy dusk laden grass growth
currently fenced in.
Restrained by manufactured life
tiling leased land feebly privatizing life
momentarily without hindrance
focused solely on today.

Connection


Static overtones provide cacophonous shelter  for your reason, each time I would dial in your melody; yet I, eventually drop the phone just so I can watch it mimic your slipping away, hoping that gravity would halt and you would stay near me relative to the same way you once did, and only my phone survived unbroken from that titan fall.

Stolen Sunlight


The stolen sunlight trickles down
simmering on our placid faces
wisps releasing silent steam hang
our time together, frozen as
dew on the pine trees whose
slender fingers tie the our cords
into a hang-mans knot, criminal only
of stealing days punishable by being
noosed for the rest of the night.