Get lost, get found.

ears so warm,
mind so numb,
ears so filled with sound,
mind so filled with dread.

how long
will you
stay so dead?

listening to sounds,
silence in the head,

how does
someone
get so dead?

stand up straight,
pants fall dead,
I'll tell you something
I've never said,

I would rather
be dead.

Back Again.

Skinny legs, don't be so dead,
you look so pale,
so wet,
so red.

Let me see your arm, baby,
your skin has lost its glow;
Let me see your skin baby
it has lost its coloured know.
Your legs are still so skinny,
Your head still held so high,
You move so slow and steady,
Where'd you go?

Why are you so skinny?
Where did you think you'd go?

Sometimes we think it will be different
if we find ourselves in some place
our eyes have never seen
but I know where you have been.

bored, numb.

i am so drunk everywhere,
all the time, it's always there.

Tilting Eyes

Sometimes there are people in the places
We expect to see.

Yesterday,
there were places.
The day before,
there were places.
But now places,
they are stairwells,
and there is no one.

There is left place for you to be,
Not enough space for me to see.

Burn the words,
All captured in capsules,
Make it easier for me
To not know
Or not care.

Let me think about the world
With no real meaning.

Write it for me,
what the is world
without paper
and letters.

Burn the hearts encapsulated in boxes,
Perforated cardboard,
98% recycled materials,
Small coffees, large teas,
Burn the books all gleaming on shelves.

Press the heart against the wall
Lay your words against the heart
And make it bleed.

Leaving

the music is the honest sound
it picks up all vibrations in the air and on the ground,
when it is fall and the leaves lead brightened lives,
listen to the music as it swishes with the times.

rusty smells of dampen rot falling from the trees,
turning peach and brown as it crinkles with the other leaves,
it leaves,
the music leaves,
it helps me leave.

Listen, leave.

He said,
she said,
look at all the leaves,
look at all the trees,
mustard fields turned upside down,
hanging in the sky,
floating on skeletons.

He said,
she said,
look at all the ground,
look around, it is brown,
there is blood on the leaves
that make up the trees,
burgundy, red and brown.

She asks nicely and he leaves.

I want to write a poem about you,
want to squeeze out your breath
while I see you in the air,
want to smoke you,
watch you rise.

I want to hear you sing so quiet
the truth leaves you
without paper,
without ink,
without duels,
hear blunt silence when you speak
feel unequal value of vibrations
in the notes in the air.