Some Things I Made For Your Mind

WildFievel’s Poetry

How Nature Dances

Earthly anchors uproot and move around at night,

bark shivers and shakes, leaves quiver and quake like that of waking might.

Rhythm bumps the trunks, melody sways all branches.

Can you see how I see the way that nature dances?

Rocks roll and hop in spot,

colorful rivers flood their troughs,

grape grass grows fast or

slows with tempo,

weather directs where reflective chords go.

Previous perspective recently slanted.

Can you see how I see the way that nature dances?

Glaciers glide beside xylophones slides,

unnatural patterns take shape in the skies.

The sands wisp over hills, pianos softly whimper,

passion spawns when dim embers are entered to the timber.

Notes center on imagery advances.

Can you see how I see the way the nature dances?

Pitch places switches in ground elevation,

environment changes when sound meets mutation,

mountainous giants grumble from under,

percussive violence on cymbals with thunder,

silence makes trees take modelesque stances.

Did you see how I see the way that nature dances?

Bad Extremes

The worst fuel always pours out the fastest.

When’s the last time you sucked gold out of a cup made of plastic?

In front of our faces are the messages that mask it.

The ways are unhealthy, the changes could be drastic.

There stands a starving child, others stay on the mattress;

complacency between two burning ends of the wax wick.

How can one man be demanding when the world needs demands met?

Go against the selfish grain to keep from where that sand’s swept.

An attempt to inform in a form that’s not a pamphlet.

I’m saying take what you need and spread the rest your hands get.

A world without these bad extremes is a world that I imagine,

but we need more than words like these, we need these words with traction.

On the Rocks

Scattered chatter in a tavern during hours after

Shape-setting plaster ‘round the dim light lantern

The laughter, the banter, the 5^th of Jack grasper

The poor lonely bastard on his barstool backwards

A subtle fiasco of rascals that ramble

Masked by shadows of tea stains and tobacco

An old bench where he sits, keys lit by the candle

A man with closed eyes pouring pain through a piano

More

The lessons learned from dreamy scenes,

crooked caverns, stunning stars and the nightmares too

Counting down seconds excitedly, prolonging entrance

Starting to drift, my body lifts

Signature signs settle in

Elusive time and measurements

Oh, I know now

Taking hold of the reigns, traversing planes,

etching the connections directed through my brain

Surfing on senses

Nights of adventures

It’s such a wonderful place to be

A ton of stitched in juxtapositions

Tangents and trinkets printed and twisted

Glistening emerald

Spectacled eyes

seeing lessons from dreamy scenes

There’s always more than you have believed

Effing the Ineffable, Defining Divine

It is what it is without a reason why

It is everything and nothing at the same time

It is the passerby that might be more than a passerby

It is what you don’t really know but always knew

It is a puzzle to stump

It is a barrier to jump

It is longing to be noticed

It is noticed but only to one’s eye

It is unruly, unlawful and understanding

is hard to describe

It is the best joke ever that nobody heard

It is proud of itself for being so difficult

It is desiring to be undesired

It is reveling in the disarray because it knows that disarray is the order

It is silence…

It is an influence on itself

It is cared for but does not care

It is spontaneous and free of all rules

It is destined to be

is hard to describe

It is my comfort

It is somebody else’s thorn

It is what sets us apart but is common in all

It is becoming what I am

It is telling me to open my eyes but keeps interrupting when I try to do so

It is a loophole that leads back to the beginning

It is running in place

It is accomplishing nothing but that is its accomplishment

It is incapable of being bound in its entirety

It is driving me insane

is hard to describe

It is beyond my comprehension

It is that thing you can’t put your finger on

It is putting its finger on you

It is possibly God

Or maybe it’s just me

Insane Insane

Simple little lily laughter

rumple ripple stilted stammer

clipping clammer

chloroform captor

freaky freaky

faster faster

shot the ladder bladder balls

got the offered rocks it all

plastered pisser purple place

liquid love tasted lace

lumpy little couch cushion

open mouth pout pushin’

crackle creaking crickle crew

screwed rude shoulder shoe

virtual vertigo gutter up in somersaults

butterfly butterball slippincision cyclical it’s called

insane

it’s so insane

venom vision vivid vein

whisper wyvern crisp cocaine

tissue stain

stipple stripe

pimple posse glossy light

listed mash potato math

melted messy dressy drab

drooling dragger

body bagger

gruesome hips

grimly haggard

happy pattern

pupil fatter

losing loosely looping ladders

A Poem about Nothing in Particular

How can I be more honest?

It’s a cliché.

It’s just words

put together.

Have I said anything?

That thought runs often

taking space,

valuable space.

Overthinking…

Is this what writer’s block feels like?

No,

clearly, I’m writing.

I’m showing you

now

…and there goes the train of thought,

but it’s ok, I’ll catch the next one

leading off the edge of the earth….

Drool

Simple grace the sillow sway

sliding slicks in quickened pace

picking place

lavish liquid

lavender lofts soft and sifted

sister cistern sunken sound

sitting silent musk and mound

dropping drips

sloppy lips

shown to grips of greasy rifts

climbing shining shattered sickness

crick in neck and viscous kisses

risk the brick on bending backs

blending blissful trickle tracks

supple sickle rougher raffle

ruffle facul-ty time tackle

spotted spackle

blotted ink black hole

ripping out the socket’s apple

War

Groan growing deep

Drowning drawling sleep

Slips

Lip

Lips

Leap

Sit

Sickness sound ripped

Rounds

Shifted crown

Lisp

Reaper reaching loveless

Seepage

Keeping on in creeping cleavage

Gears of fearless

Fighters towards

More and more and more of hoards

Boredom flooring

Flat line luring

Purging

Pouring

Purging

Captive

You rose like smoke floating off the pillow

chosen you are, my sunrise

glow

Every figure and form I’ve conjured

cannot contain the perfect placement of your matter

You are more than any painting plastered

More than these poetic bones could muster

This may be the closest I’ll ever come

You are more than enough of an intoxicating substance

taking in the endless dose

You are LSD

You are ecstasy

You are heavenly

divine

Held forever captive

of your delicate design

Water Lust

Arachnid needles track across

Cactus dust

Compacted cracks

Like scabs on a scapula

Levitated lens glass

Sun-bleached fence slats

Warped in endless lattice rungs

Cat tongues

Drug through bottom bucket rust

Lusting

For something

To pool

On crust

The Glitch

This is the glitch,

the tripwire misfire slippage,

distortion in the image

spitting

shatter pattern fractals

fastening fascination

to orphan eyes.

Kaleidoscopes reorganized,

islands in the iodine,

I clementined the canopies,

and can it be forever

caught in the figure

twisted on its side?

An eruption of malfunction

but something

is perfectly

out

place.

Hammock

These pregnant rivulets

sapping to my skin

with salt and steam

These clouds hanging as sagging saddlebags

parachutes billowing through

wrenching at the ropes

My body fades away somewhere along the fog

A marionette of sunken twine

A silhouette on drunken eyes

I’ll settle with the sun tonight

The Funniest Word I Ever Heard

haafloopdeedoopwoobleeloolaminamlyaamlehmlarplemorpymehrooperdipplediddlumpyflumperdink

Only Memories Age

With each passing day

Like photographs

Images

Come to

Fade

Images of her

When encountered

Give life back

To scenes

Frayed

Intoxication

Off the beauty

Taken

From these scenes

Framed

But if no need

Of these frames

Her beauty cannot age

Tablets

Caged in by medication

and systematic education.

An autodidact

rubbed with wrong abrasions.

Disordered deficits

earn only D’s,

given the attention

I over-achieve.

Unfortunately,

interest is only on occasion.

The things that set restraints

Are the things that will sedate him.

Best be skeptic

A curious cat

Learn the hard way,

self-injurious acts.

A dull life lived

if I didn’t thrill seek.

It’s been said before

it’s gonna be the thing kill me.

Unfortunately,

these warnings are forsaken.

The things they try to train

are the very things that awake him.

I’m a man of many words

but few words spoken

so when I open up

I try to keep it potent.

Although very random,

thought through tangents,

running rampant if you catch it

you’ll begin to understand him.

Unfortunately,

It’s a small population.

The things they see as strange,

shamed,

are the things that moderate him.

I used to have traits

now I have symptoms.

Everything I stood for

flipped in an instant.

Turned my talents into tablets,

put restrictions on my ad libs.

My fire burns wild,

they reduced me to a matchstick.

Unfortunately,

I’m not made for this nation.

The things they want to change

are the very things that make him.

The menu listed enchiladas in orders of one or three and the girl wanted two… she ordered the one

I was told by my mother, “It’s important to listen to your elders,” which was quickly

followed by, “now, put on something nice.”

whatever “nice” was.

I slunk back to my bedroom

with the same droopy eyes

and plastered on a catalog page

over spiderman hanes.

I was told by classrooms that touching stoves would burn,

staring at the sun would blind,

and doing drugs would rot my brain.

However, they didn’t notice that I’m one hell of a masochist.

I snuck to the janitor’s closet after that class with a couple of capsules.

I was told by psychologists that talking to yourself is a bad sign

even after all the times we’ve caught each other in the act.

I was told by my grandmother’s funeral procession to open up my tears,

to pour out my emotion…

…I chose to smile and laugh because that’s what grandma and I did best.

I was told by a pastor that love belongs in monogamy

between a man and a woman and nothing more.

There can’t possibly be so much love in one person that it would split and spill into multiples

and any group of people agreeing on open terms

have to be stained with poison.

I was told by all that these conventions should be taken seriously.

From each tongue I saw that certain honesty gleaming,

that hopeful intent beaming,

but the funny thing is, none of these lessons were learned from mistakes.

So screw conventions

Fuck ‘em

Fuck

Them

Violently rape them in a rusted dumpster

thigh high in soggy food scraps,

knuckles crushed around their baby hairs,

tracing their ribs with a chewed up plastic spoon,

scraping at the scabs,

eyes plucked upwards,

pawing with a sloppy jaw,

slowly sinking in through the skin.

I was told

that art

had to be beautiful.

Sleep Deprivation

Perched in the rafters,

looming moon to moon.

I’ve pushed through the attic wall

of plastic wrap puncture,

dangling the soles of my fingers

from the floorboards of nightmares.

I’ve been delivered through

the reflection point

on that black beaded tear,

birthed tail first reversed

into sun burns,

cradled in a blanket

cut from the fear.

It turns

out too far

was far

too near.

For My Poetry Class

Sometimes I feel I’m about to die.

Time stands still in a statue’s spine

wrapping vines around my mind

but yours’

have come to rescue mine.

I was heavy handed, found in flies

when you opened up my owl eyes

to boundless skies drowned in light

from fevered fire sounding sight.

My pupils burning brown to bright,

my lips learning to outgrow lies,

tongue curling corkscrew climbs

to morals muralling mountainsides.

Words were blessed

they found you blind

for they’d never be

without you guys.

Wild Child

There,

where I stood

I thought I knew not to stare

but she looked too good

and I was too drunk to care.

She filled up the air

with peaches and pears

glowing with the light

of fireflies in her hair.

She whispered to me wild-eyed,

“We could be those dirty dreams.”

then leaning in, I replied,

“I’ll show you scenes you’ve never seen.”

I Thought I Saw the Universe

Curled up in the corner of my room

was the universe

but to be sure

is too soon.

It fit tessellated on the spindles of fractals

spinning in dizzily

gripped in a lasso.

It kept rushing forward

but couldn’t let the past go.

Concrete setting,

constantly the path grows

down through the black groves

like needles on a black groove

stamped on the landscape

of time-lapse tunes.

I’m plucking at the strings

of theories and theologians.

It’s too soon to see

we’re all caught in a moment.

I Wish I Could See in Ultraviolet

She has whimsical hair

That whispers off the wind

A bruised brunette

In a mauve crewneck

I met her by the brook

In the nightshade of brunfelsia flowers

Catching her scent in the crevices of held hands

Like the petals that showered around us

And danced

Scratching backs

We flaked away at fragile facades

To beautiful truths

To beautiful flaws

To useless facts that help relax

And to the depths we’ve both fallen to(o) far

Thirsting for more of her

Portions known

I forfeit those old torpid tones

As mornings go

The orbit grows

Calling to me like an organ moans

Her name…

Unicorns

On a rainy night in June

with the water luke-warm

he gave up all he had

in search of unicorns

Slumped over a table, breathing a brooding scorn

sat a young man as his food was losing warmth

Little puffs of small talk

were passed around like cigarettes

spoken as if with a purpose

but never could he figure it

The dryness lingered in the air

hanging from the chandelier

and he couldn’t bring himself to care

about the same routine

Even in the midst of the humid storm

a human torch was newly born

used to scorch the uniforms

you only wore ‘cause you were forced

He caught a glimpse of the news reports

saw a suit was worn by a useless corpse

halfway mourned with loose rapports

nobody knew who knew him more

Wondering what he was like as a young man

did he also think of pursuing more?

Slumped over a table, breathing a brooding scorn

holding a hunger that most ignore

Those potent emotions he used to store

flew in swarms

through his pores

dripping down onto the floor

pooling epiphanies of what he always knew before

On that rainy night in June

with the water luke-warm

he kissed foreheads goodbye

and walked off through the door.

Bound To

Woke up

in a bathtub with soap scum

on my teeth

Opening my corneas

to cornucopias of bleach

Throated for a sound

but found I couldn’t breathe

I was bound to

the ground

battered

without yeast

Pondering the pounding

drowning my brain

Dragging drenched limbs

of rusted chains

Collapsing capillaries

rasping through my skin

like writhing caterpillars

roasting on a spit

Still the chills spill in speckles up my neck

little icicles freckled to infest

every fiber and thread

inside of my head

I was bound to

the ground

I was bound to

be dead

Owls and Larks

His keen eyes and talents

binged up on the branches

she sat in

singing satin siren songs

through the glass window

pain slipped

like sun rays and fragrance

off the fresh rain

leaves her soggy shoes at the door,

her wet skirt on the floor

and drenched thoughts in the storm.

With the moon in the stars

she’s not used to this far

through all hours of the night,

but he found light

in the bugs buzzing by

and the reflection on her eye

like a bubble’s subtle shine.

It was in those times

they shed their weathered feathers,

forgot about the tethers

that tied them to their lives.

They meet at dusk

and leave at dawn

to get away for a moment,

a taste of gone.

Let’s Go Nuts

It’s me against the world

and my prune juice jetpack

blasting mangled meat monsters

out of clinic dumpsters.

An amniotic hunger

Cluster-fucked in mustard

hacks at the tendons suctioned to the mother.

I’m the crusty-eyed corrupter

of all blind youngsters

yanking on the chains

chanting for that blood spurt.

Blood lust

in blood sports

in the part of me that loves gore,

pulling out intestines like ribbons that clowns hoard.

Tricks up my sleeve,

dick in a squeeze,

my bitch on a leash,

and coke bits in my sneeze.

Fuck this world

up so

it can’t function.

Doomsday’s a holiday

celebrate destruction.

THE PEFRECTPOEM

Peppermint xylophones

Electric ice

Frozen catacombs

Reverberations of the wise

Euphonic youth

Caressing euphoria

Tantalizing truths

Proposed in aporia

Open-ended omens

Eerily scattered

Most thought the hand of god held a silver platter

As His Eyelids Fell

He was torn apart

Each of his inches

No words spoken

None came to interest

The memory looms

Soaked in crimson

Of the day peace was broken

Without something to fix it

The entry wounds

Made emergency exits

Pieces on the pavement

Nothing to connect with

Red roped velvet

Trailing the tragedy

Roses on a casket

Bodies from the battle scene

It’s sad to see so many souls

Come and go these days

Followed without answers

For the questions that he raised

Gotta be a better place

Reassurance to himself

Mind going blank

As his eyelids fell

The Most Beautiful Flower I’ve Seen

The auburn submerged me

in an ocean of roses

growing in the garden

down to your shoulders.

The seafoam froze me

along with my time

in a gemstone cavern

of crystalized eyes.

The peaches have reached in

consuming me quickly

plaguing my dreams

with scenes where you kissed me.

The gold gilded your eyelids

I was overgrown in violets

afraid you’d come to say

I’m just a dandelion.

Enjoy the Red Moon

I recognized that red moons

are beautiful and few,

never lasting long enough

to appreciate the view.

I noticed your breastbone

swan dive into your blouse

open-armed,

so charming,

two lips parting

on the path

in the meadow

over on the other side of town.

I sensed your stilettoed silhouette

settle in the sun ray’s

gold shine

open minded,

diamonds lining

custard colored contours

slumbering on your shoulders

too far from me.

I felt your tender thighs

tremble next to mine

in the bedroom

by the red moon

we’ll be dead soon my dear.

I can tell you not to fear.

I can tell you just to feel.

Living in a red moon movie

take all the beauty you can fill.

Something Bigger

Storms have always flattered me,

there’s something about them bigger.

Reconsider where we’re sitting right now,

bits of matter spinning in a twister.

You see

sun rays awake us,

sound waves shake us,

tidal waves take us

away from what we made up.

What is our nature?

Are we meant for what god has yet to hand us?

Stuck inside a crater

waiting patiently for greatness.

But it’s here

around us.

The sound of winter peace

sugar-coating tree tips

sitting on the leaves.

It’s here

in the face of summer

funnel clouds

crowding the sky

bubbling brown.

It’s here

in the cracked dirt

of the desert blooming mauve.

It’s here

balled up beautiful

fruitful in our skulls.

It’s here

in the forces

pulling out our pulse.

It’s here

my dear,

clearly we’re engulfed.

Believe in something bigger.

Make your knees fall.

Growth sits in groves

with the trees that think they’re small.

Four Strands of Red

Four strands of red

found in my bed,

held in my hands,

heavy as lead.

Four empty bottles

fell from my fingers

next to the pillow

where L’oreal lingered.

Three sweet kisses

with not enough passion,

if only I’d known

they’d be the last ones.

Three failed attempts

at traveling time

back between the car doors

when everything was fine.

Two gorgeous eyes

tugging at mine,

making me mortal

her aura’s divine.

Too many breaths

wasted on air

that could’ve been used

to tell her I care.

One open palm

held to my head.

Please can you promise

not to forget?

The Fall of the Monarch

Two stain glass wings were broke before the chance

to fly through the light and prove things of fate.

Six legs withered beneath weight they could not bear

without petals pressed up against their feet.

It was my fault that he could not take off,

now I’m afraid I will always destroy.

Save Me from Myself

Save me from my self-destruction.

Show me other sweet seductions.

Give your grace to my sunken face.

Take my skull, layer it in lace.

Pull out my veins and pump them full

of pushpin reds where senses dull.

Cut off my sights from darker lights

while stitching my tears and fears of flight.

I walk the woods in search of balance

not suspecting wicked talons.

Save me from my own no goodness.

Show me why and how I shouldn’t.

Something Wrong with Our Daughter

Meandering menageries of marshmallow monsters

with melted faces that are measle-stricken. Visions still haunt her

up to the thumbs in bench-bottom bubblegum. Frog tongues

syrup to her sides. Sickly sliding fog comes

into the swamps she saunters

while her wild noggin clogs up.

Crookedly the cogs spun

crawling on the log bumps.

These millipede feet

fondling, sillily she

laughs and giggles at the problem

these soliloquys breathe.

The willow tree seems

to sway more evilly today. Those little feet sting

from psychedelic predators pinching on their prey.

Grimy gums gush behind lips of dripping hairs frayed,

choking her in chills no other melody brings.

She’s entranced and ensnared. Blades

buried

in her bare brain

snap the synapses. Control is plunged upon her.

Such an evil monster,

the reason why she stares blank,

On the staircase, in the hallways always it wants her.

The Wavelengths of Dubstep

You don’t know what I do

on the dance floor with those brightly colored bodies

you don’t see and

I don’t speak of.

On the dance floor with those brightly colored bodies

I shake and scream but

I don’t speak of

you at all.

I shake and scream and

can’t hear my thoughts on

you at all.

This makes me happy.

You can’t hear my thoughts on

this life I love

that makes me happy

because you don’t.

This life I love

you don’t see and

because you don’t

you don’t know what I do.

The Intensity of Dubstep

Wha-

What is up

with the young?

There is love in these drugs

that we put on our tongues.

Everyone gave hugs and

none gave fucks

as we jump

to the dub-

step saws

on the subs.

Bounce

with the down

beat,

Drown

in the crowds

bring

from the stadium

seats

to the ground.

Deep

people in a mosh pit,

everybody lost their minds

to the bright strobe lights that blind.

Wa-

Watching the lasers,

starry-eyed gazers

rock in a rave like we’re shocked

with a taser.

WOMP WOMP

RAGER

BUMP BUMP

BASS MORE

in this place

‘til it makes

my fuckin’ face sore!

We’re seen as clowns

to all the other crowds

getting caught up in these cyclical sounds

but

why hate

when you won’t even give it a

try mate?

Just let loose,

let your body vibrate.

Rope Ladder

I watched the most beautiful girl cry

tears I wiped up with my sleeve.

I took her in my arms asking, “Why?”

She said, “There seems

to be a missing link.”

I’ve seen her fear awake.

I feel it in her footsteps when she thinks

the hold will break.

I replied, “I understand, dear.

I’m scared

too but clearly

I’m aware

that the fear of falling, even though I hate it,

is burden always carried by those who rise to greatness.”

Break Me Down

In an instance

I felt sublime

but haven’t since

it fled from existence

with a pinprick of time.

In this instance

my lips sensed

your summer pulse by my side

but haven’t since

you walked off in the winter’s distance.

I cried

in that instance,

rubbing my eyes trying to resist it

“I’m stronger than this,” I lied

but haven’t since

finding acceptance

with my weakness of feeling too strong. I felt blind

before that instance

but haven’t since.

Unwind

We used four feet

of shoelaces

as a cord

between tin cans to trade

talk and relay the whispers

without tying our tongues in knots.

I could still reach the knots

in your propped up feet

and speak of our elation with

a moment in the day. Through the shoelaces,

silly faces I would trade

to hear you sing the sweetest sounding chords.

Oh how they shook me to the core.

I could not

think of any more to trade

to sweep you off your feet

so I kept untying shoelaces

silently beneath, reminding me of my relation

with the world. I related this

through a cord

of crisscross thoughts much like the shoelaces

shaped in lazy knots

around your feet

the night it rained

into my room. You stayed to trade

your relation with

the world beneath your feet

while I would shift accordingly

around the knots

in the sheets you lost your shoelace in.

Your shoelace left

a trace of your trait,

a lock of your braid in a knot

on a chain I relate

to the sweet sounding chord

that swept me off my feet.

These shoelace relationships

are made to trade the twisted cords

and release the tangled knots wound taut around our feet.

Planting Seeds

I remember a meadow

with the most beautiful flowers

my eyes have ever seen.

They were placed perfectly

in the greenest grass

on the tallest hill

under the bluest skies

just like my favorite dream.

You know the one

where we laid down

and looked up

to the cloud-like crowns

resting on the heavens

we found ourselves in.

I was unsure of time

existing

like a godly presence

and you could sense the curiosity building

in my body.

It must’ve been something

you said

hidden in the shadows

that made me lucid

enough to question

why nightmares exist.

So I picked up some seeds

and petals for good luck

and went foot first

into the wild world.

Now I find myself stumbling

through the blackberry brambles,

planting those seeds wherever

it’s needed,

showing everyone there’s still beauty

somewhere out there.

Don’t Move Too Fast, There’s a Speed Limit

Even though my skin was white

I was a mess of iridescence.

You slowly stretched inside my car

like a golden yellow light.

I had the green arrow

but blew through it too fast

right past the flashing purple

on Blackwood Circle,

that dark cul-de-sac with no street lamp.

Now my color is blood red

like your cautiously-shaped head

but I learned a hard lesson.

Aren’t you happy

it won’t happen again?

Blackberry

A boy stands small

in the blackberry brambles

rambling psalms,

burning his candles,

singing burgundy blues

holding thistles and thorns,

seeing marvelous hues

are the tattered and torn,

born into shadows

of meadows at midnight,

slipping from shallows,

sifting through thin light.

He’s silent, secluded,

covered in cuts,

living illusions,

loving his lust

and learning a life

that used to be harmless.

Arches will rise

in beautiful darkness.

Watch it Burn Down

I’m standing on my balcony

staring at a dead cat

laid flat on the road.

It was bad luck I suppose.

I’m still thinking

about the world

and the endless rows

of a flagship carved out of tombstones

and roses

and the traditions we hold closest.

I’m wondering why

we keep killing ourselves;

getting nowhere,

I just keep smoking my cigarette.

Perfectly Symmetric

I assume

it was a guy

that gave you

that compliment

and I’ll agree

with him but

stopping wars

is no new concept.

I’ve been fighting

to end this war since

I can

remember, not

with my guns

but with my tongues

talking through good

and evil and all

that is holy.

Now as

you probably already know

I’ve built up

my artillery

but I still agree

that your breasts

will end this war

that I speak of so often.

You are much more

than a bust

held towards

the heavens;

I look at you

like a reflection.

Used To

I let a girl

use your pillow

the other night,

the one that used to be

yours.

I did

what I could

to get comfortable

with the lump

in my bed

and the look

in her eyes

but kept tossing

and turning over

the same stoned guilty feeling.

I even kissed her goodnight

like an old routine

that was suddenly

broken by

accidentally grabbing

something that tasted

a lot shittier

than toothpaste.

So with soap in my mouth

I tried starting over

on the other side

of my pillowcase

but I swear

your red has threaded itself

into the fabric

because I still see it

poking out

and shining

like a needle

in the pin cushion

every time I lay back down.

You know

what’s worse

is that I keep seeing

your face

on hers

and she’s asking me

what I’m thinking about

just like you

used to.

The Ocean

Shaking,

vibrating,

barely even here,

bumping up

to everyone else’s

peers

as if we

were anything

different.

Ignorant Oppression

This whole time,

I’ve been walking around

on top of the world

without even wondering

how the grass feels.

Burn Victim

I had a shirt

that said

safe sex,

another with

no regrets

and both

of them made me

a hypocrite

so I burned them

along with the bridge

that brought me there.

The ashes

and scar tissue

won’t rub off

even after being soaked in alcohol

for the past few months.

Now

I just stumble around town

as a reminder

not to play

with fire

unless

you’re wearing

the right gear.

The Higher-ups

They were the first

to call it

sin

but not the last

to use it.

Final Will

I will

black out in

the black light

with some toe tags

and a crack pipe,

couple girly

girls thin as dirty needles

go and stick it in

get your buzz in beetle.

Feel the feeling come

and bubble up

up in my blood

baby buttercup.

Hey,

what is what?

Wait,

where am I

gonna spill my guts

I think I’m gonna die.

“But don’t you wanna fly?”

is what the guy said

I should’ve

made my will

before I said

yes.

Burrito

They hand it off

to me

bundled up in a blanket

with careful warmth

and I’m scared

that this precious little

blessing to hold

will grow cold

like the rest

of the outside air.

So I’m trying to keep

it close and give

off what little heat

I have left

but I know

it won’t last

because the rest

of the world

is restless

and loves to eat

fresh meat.

In Gold

I can see

how people lose themselves

in gold.

It’s a

pretty

convincing

reflection.

Signals

I feel like

that girl

at the bar

who’s been getting

winked at

the entire night

and is just now

beginning

to realize

it.

Mechanical Bullshit

Sit down,

listen up,

follow the steps

laid out in the mud

and hold it together

like a rivet

on the skin

of a mechanical bull

that eats its young

to shoot out

shit.

Only One?

One lives

while the other

dies

and it’s sad

to be either

one.

Contagious

She cried

revenge

like a sneeze

from a cold

evil.

Hot Pink

She keeps

an electric rhythm

in her

crossed legs

and a few fingers

in her hair

twisting up

Indian burns

that I feel

I could aloe out

if I didn’t

already have

blisters healing

on my hands.

Open Your Eyes

How wild are you willing to get?

Some Things I Made For Your Mind