IN PURSUIT OF THE HEART NEXT DOOR

...trembling, what kind of shit is this?
schoolboy days long calenders away,
yet here i stand,
lost in the illusion of not being
enough, good
enough, handsome
enough, wealthy
enough, and the laughter of
twenty seven years assails my
mind, i shrink, a slug addicted to salt sprinkles
as a dusky goddess from a Howardian
landscape sits upon a throne of
bone and ivory and
sentences me to death by sorrow and
papercuts from lemon soaked sheets...
weeping, i see her smile,
a cresent moon in a summer sky,
and her eyes, the gray/green of
the mutant who is the evolution of man,
my fingertips tremble, remembering
the feel of her flesh beneath them,
and my mouth is parched in
anticipation of the next kiss
from her lips,
that may not be forthcoming.
i've learned to survive in the drought,
lived through the weed shortage of
the eighties,
the funk shortage of the early '90s,
only to falter on the shores of
the goddess shortage,
to wither upon this vine and
die from the failings of an
undernourished imagination...
perhaps we'll call this
apropos,
for all the hearts i have damaged,
for all the damage i've done to my
own heart,
a metaphorical heartbreak to finish off
this poor, delusional bastard
that is named ___________ is fitting punishment
indeed...

roots

shaking a tree that
Defies probability,
what do you see when
you gaze dagger hate at me?
i'm walking through time,
listening to what you hear,
flying through space to get
close to the thing you fear,
you being seen,
seeing things that aren't really there,
you feeling things
that make your inner self despair,
create a plate
from the waste of your childhood pain,
and stand there wet,
excited out in the cold rain,
but its about something bigger than
you and me,
its about how long it takes
before free is free,
its about how strong it makes us
to see the tree
shaking its branches at
chances that set it free,
roots in the ground and
leaves shivering in the cold,
bark chipped and cracked from
protecting the young and old,
character missed due to
bliss and distorted love,
now there is this,
just a kiss from a God above,
seeing you seeing you seeing
all that you are
makes me see me as something
like a fallen star,
and as we trip on these
roots exposed to the light
something is coming and
something just isn't right,
so let me touch you,
drink spirit from your rough skin,
let me kiss your cheek and
taste all the hurt your in,
and i'll be your tree,
your strong unbending support,
let me shelter you from the sun
and bear your hurt,
no, i'm not God,
but i'm still going to put in work...

...and have i not stood outside, watching as the world
did its thing and had its way with time?
there was nothing in the extended hand,
though everything was implied,
and the secrets dropped fat and perilous
from gray cloud eyes,
obscuring true vision and
blinding the introspective...
and have i stood outside watching?
listening to the echoes of the
transient heartbeat,
searching for a body rhythm to match and
produce life with?
there is loneliness even in
the self contained body...
there must be
then,
that much greater
for the house divided,
and still i ask for nothing at all...