Bleeding in America

There is an innocence in your childish skin,
where the planets seem to grow
in your eyes.
Playing with stamps
under the cover of darkness
until lamps shine on the birth of maturity.

Sleeping under the stars,
under the teardrops of your
grotesque beauty,
I am at odds with my heart.

The responsibility I feel
is hidden behind a blindfold
that silences my mouth,
covers my ears and eyes.
I feel fear.

But, I will tell the truth,
even if I face consequences.
Against your wishes,
my blood will drain out
onto the plains
leaving my skin white.
The cold I feel
is as radiant as the burning sun,
where others are set ablaze by your debauchery.
Your loose lips act like a two dollar whore
who can never come clean,
yet, is so inviting.

I see behind your facade
where my pricked heart,
comes gushing out of my machine gun,
spilling all over your scolding skin
from the rawness of my beautiful pain.

Even if I have to start a fire
before jumping off the deep end,
a light will be found the morning after.

* Published in Having A Whiskey Coke With You Issue 5, May 2014

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A Long Lost Friendship

I shut the door at your presence.
in between the pain and the sadness
of your absence.
My heart,
on the left side of my chest,
sprouts out from the graveled concrete
and has risen like a Phoenix
too many times to feel
until it is now only
just a hollow hole.

Scarce and colored black from
the machine dust
that comes through minute cracks,
I suffocate on secondhand smoke
leaving me penniless,
suicidal and
dying.

All of my blood has
evaporated onto blank pages,
now filled with past paragraphs.
Looking up to the sun,
I stare into your eyes
one last time
rght before I go blind.

Saying hello,
goodbye
is all that I desire.
Laughter, tears
and my passing
all will come after.

Our eyes in between sun breaks

Watching your pain
drain beneath the cracked floorboards
is a sight to see
when, in love songs,
the sons of beauty
blister their stories with fuel.
Sparking a match,
and turning on a light
that shines
onto our decaying insides.

A raging fire buries us,
sparking the wood that was built
in the last century.
Feeling bare,
where dreams are caught
and left on stage,
our mouths are left wide open,
eyebrows tilted inward
and screaming,
leaving us with nothing.

Until the thunderous mountain
that has torn apart you and me
has melted into the ocean sea,
the sun will not rise
before the next day approaches.

Once the last shot of hope
has lost all calm and control,
we will see the sun once again
and we’ll continue to breathe
from the light that permeates the sky,
and we’ll see each other at last
and cry.

* Published in “Having A Whiskey Coke With You” Issue 5, May, 2014

Lifting Myself Up

Surrounded by weak minds
without moxie-
who cave to the sun when
the darkness holds
the clouds from crying.

I watch them weave
their souls underneath broken pines.
Drinking away their lives
made from swine.

Hidden under the covers at night,
the light I seek only comes when
I’m in flight-
deep within my mind
hoping I can fly.

My pale skin
burns against the sun
as the waves tear open
my fragile heart
standing against the wind
leaving me entombed
under the sea.
The clear waters
that have ravished my soul,
mourns the past
and present.

Being alone
has torn me apart-
treating me badly.
Laying stifled in a fog,
desperate to forget this life,
I realize there is only one.

So don’t. My mind is told.
Don’t let go
so easily of the make-shift tie
wrapped around my neck
in the tragedy of leaves.