Sometimes I’m like “hell yeah, i’m doing life!”

Sometimes i’m like “hell no, i’m doing life.”

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4:30 AM thoughts

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I’m so lucky to be surrounded by funny and interesting people so often. 

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I want to run my finger down your spine,

and laugh at the hours giving way to sun rises,

kiss the small of your back like a wax seal on an envelope.

Murk Murshing

Black gold tires on the rim trimmed top flat,

murk murshing through the murky mires,

I wore the track out with the tires.

Cold cocked and credible discredited 

thoughts I might have had if I had not learned

to spent what I had earned.

'Cause the gravel on my feet,

leaves marks and blood speckled  

eyes bump out with glasses

bespectacled.

Doorway

There are dreams where i’m laughing until I wake up, 

there are beds where i’ve slept and cried.

I have stapled forms together and created documents

detailing bone structures 

and commonplace feelings arranged in the shape of yesterday,

and tomorrow walking forward,

and today laying in bed.

Would you write me letters if I was in another state?

Or would you write me e-mails if I was in a better one?

Would you come up to my door in the evening holding a box of 

rain soaked chocolates that you thought might be a funny gesture?

I bet you ate the mint ones, 

cause you like the ones that no one else does.

I think that’s how we got in this situation,

where the doorway is like a wall.

I used to worry that sometimes you’d come up to my door in the evening,

holding a box of rain soaked chocolates,

but that was just a dream where I cried until I woke up. 

I swear I’ve had dreams where I’ve laughed until I woke up.

I’ve slept in beds where i’ve cried.

Would you write me letters if I was in another state?

Would you leave the mint ones,

the ones you normally eat, 

and do something different for a change,

maybe that’s how we got in this situation,

where the doorway holds our chains.

Wore the Lip

Salt marks in the palm lines,

chalk it up to laugh marks and good times.

I wore the lip of the ancients on my ear lobe like the Summer kiss,

while your eyes oceaned and shore lined, brown on crystal blue

like a rare gem in the cave walls,

like a cooled stone in the volcano crevice.

I like when you squeeze me. 

I like when you sneak little things into the space between us. 

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Post 6,100.

Devil Dust

The devil dust between your toes,

grows thicker than the desert rose,

that drove us out of Holcome county,

I heard it all on the radio.

The Summer burned and said to go,

so we wrote our map to Mexico.

And beneath the brush and trees,

we jumped like sandy fleas,

while the devil dust between our toes,

grew thicker than the desert rose. 

Petals

Don’t fall petals down,

I will tear them into crowns

and wrap them up upon your head.

if you light my lamp,

I’ll bake your bread.

Meow

You are a sweet morning,

tumbling back and forth underneath covers.

sun falling on skin lightly.

corners of mouths upturned and welcoming.

Sweet roses come grow,

in water and through hands tracing lines, 

tracing shapes.

I want to know you.

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The Sun Is a Hot Ball of Gas That Gives us Life.

I would travel to galaxies and stars with you anytime. 

Your heart is slinking fair form calligraphy that falls from your lips,

you are beautiful honest truth and shrieks of laughter.

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Sleepy me is not doing to well on the poetry front.

But I had a cool fun night when it came down to it. With a wonderful appearance by Punk Rock Girl.

Down to business tomorrow. 

Weight

Bricks on my shoulders?

I ask for rocks and I get boulders,

I’m not asking to get wiser and older,

I’m asking to get hotter than colder.

Don’t ride on lightning bolts and expect your skin to molt,

for new skin to grow back and form leather bound memory

books. 

You are there, 

effervescent and alive in sockets,

fluid filled.