Alexander & Gore

contusions of my self
in the reflections on the street
connected at the feet
for underneath
there are secrets
that we keep
and fates we all will meet
the pavement warm and ridden
with elite
senses
tell tales of excellence
in the year of 1924
booming towers
women selling flowers
in the place we feel deceit
flick your hand
underneath
and onto
looking left and then right
we are waiting

late resolutions

lose 10
gain monetary
create beauty
find her
clean up
love more
hate less

sunday

well today
i was taken
from my feet
and the girl I love
didn't care to meet
she was too far away
and I was listening to
how the rice boy sleeps.

I will kiss you on the forehead
you say goodbye.
its all the same

immaculate face

why are you
what are you
porcelain
or some kind of stone
my fingertips read you
in the silence
and you move
ever so slightly
to the warmth of my palm
i lean in and you
move back
but you don't tremble
i put my head down
into my lap
and you whisper
please don't
but i can't wake
i can't look up
not into those eyes
vert et d'or
nor into those lips
tilted in a smirk
closed tighter
be gone
vacant disregard
soul unbound
i need this
i need you
but you don't see me

spindels

touching the static screen
the vivid integrations
illuminate this room
where i sit
looking in to the past
and where you are right now
laying on your back
looking up at something
or someone else
it makes me shudder
with remorse
and with regret
and better yet
i don't and won't ever know

be calm and steady
fingers tip tip tapping away
you should be resting
i tell myself
you should be forgetting
i tell myself

but at this time with the colors dripping
and the notes spinning
i can't help but try to see

counterfeit

my eyes closed tight
lock you out
lock me in
say something sweet
say it very quietly
because i just might not want to hear it
not today
maybe tomorrow or
next week or
a year from now or
never.

nautica

for what you do
and what you say
are never the same
and from what I'm told
that's not even your birth name

like soliloquies ringing in my ears
of all the promises that seem austere
coated in golden threads
plated with sheets of lead
and reformed into a hull
to weather the 7 seas
the seven things i see
the seven sides of me
and the one thing
that keeps on lingering