Untwisting time turns before reeling gentle bends,
slowly unraveling;
luring dormant gifts of spirit from hidden doors. My blood courses not alone.
Bored light flickers. It gives revealing glimpses-
Truth shimmering against the pools behind eyes, reflecting lustful ignorance from tear kept wells,
alighting gray and as giving way begins; ripples intersecting, cannot stay.
They drum fine concentric rhythms, stirring wound coils;
swells- releasing, falling in place, pressing fragile skin,
listening to the sounds of what beating hearts say.
Deep within lie the keys as soft tones react, caressing your ears and mind.
Your flesh responds, humming unknown melodies to weave back strength into your bonds.
Letting frayed limbs wrap unto my own- keeping souls grounded, growing, intact.
I learn of such things as weakness and desire and turning gold into wildfire.
Lacking nothing but an avenue, I am challenged always by new-
the paths are many; the deep, the shallow, circling about the crooked and the true.
Not anyone can find you wandering through.
I would open my heart a little wider if it was safe to.

Exchanging thoughts over coffee & cigarettes;

We philosophize about life and the future-

Trying to define our places in both.

A terminal optimist, you paint a portrait of a life

So different from that which stands before me.

How far along is it gonna be?

You smile and leave me guessing.

Trying to perfect the game- investing certain parts, denying others.
Who will be the one that smothers the flame?
You say this isn’t meant to be.

I open up, allowing myself to feel whatever flows through me-
Whatever you toss at me; but love is not an option here.
With no hope of ever being yours (I’m not exactly what you’re looking for);
I build a dam to stop the emotion that is streaming over me.

Investing certain parts, denying others.
What happens when mismatched hearts become lovers?
Who will be the one that smothers the flame?
Who’s it gonna be?

Open my doors until the locks prevent you.
Do you think we’ll ever get to a point when the locks will hold no more?
And would you even try to get in?
Or would you content yourself with dancing from room to room,
Laying your influence everywhere;
Enjoying what time is ours to share-
Then vanishing as mysteriously as you came?

Showing not even a hint of shame.

9 PM

At this transitional hour of night,
Long after working hours’ end,
And just before the parties begin;
I enjoy this last sweet moment of peace
(soon to be broken by pulsating beats)
And woe the impending hour when
Idle chat replaces introspection
(1.21.02)

7:30 AM

In pursuit of a lost cause.
Sweet dreams, my crashed-out
Comrade on the couch.
Don’t mind her as she searches
Around you for fallen bags
Of snow-white dust.
(1.22.02)

We fumble around with words, trying to concoct something meaningful and lasting. Searching to birth the immortal embodiment of pure artistic expression; spawned from the mind and laid to rest on paper. Frustrated when it doesn’t seem to want to come together, elated when it does.

It’s an odyssey- the goal being the creation of something profound and spiritual. We’re constantly struggling to find a coupling that flows well; that trickles off the tongue and feels like perfection.

I just wanted you to know that at precisely 2:59am I got over wanting to bed you and became okay with just being friends.

Something in the way Nina’s voice made the air more heavy and humid than Baltimore in July is prone to be.

The only difference is . . . this time around, I’m not just looking for the first taker; I’m looking for the first taker that’s really f**king awesome.

I’m done with the settling bit, but it apparently hasn’t made it any easier for me to sloooow down. I still want fireworks, god dammit. I want something BIG. I want something extraordinary. Something on fire.

I don’t think that will be changing. Unfortunately that seems to be how I roll.

So, I’m marginally obsessed with the sky. Makes sense if you know me….my head is always in the clouds.

I’ve decided to start a new project centered around that theme. I anticipate it being comprised of mostly art/photographs, but I can definitely see some words making their way into the mix.

I snapped these two in a parking lot today.

Just a glimpse at a page in my notebook…

It worked for Marilyn Monroe and it’s working for you. (to me from a woman on an escalator in DC as my dress was blowing in the wind)

There’s nothing more unattractive than a man who doesn’t like you back.

I lost my contact. I think it’s in your pants. (i don’t remember where i was or why i came up with that one, but it’s now one of my favorite pick-up lines)

He doesn’t look like other men; he looks like their impossible expectations for themselves. (one of my characters)

I’m going to be one of those guys who no one believes is really dead. They’ll be like…”he tried that for 3 months a few years ago. I’m not falling for it this time.”

Verisimilitude (a word i love but don’t see enough)

I don’t want you to think i’m easy. Easy?! I’m workin’ really hard here!

I want to lay with you in a tiny bed. To not waste a single inch. I want to be wrapped tight, curved around the curves of you. Buried in the scent of you. Breathing in your warmth. Generating heat. Laughing, full-bodied, until the sun wakes up and then kisses the earth goodnight again. I want to be with you so completely that even when I’m not there…I am with you just the same. Wrapped up tight. Laughing in your ear. Holding your hand.