Woven Spirit

Your spirit has
Clung to me after
This morning
Like it never
Wants to leave

Your scent
Of sweet sweat and
Nitroglycerin trapped
Under straps
Of tank tops

Spirit still clings
To me
Threaded down to the
Skin beneath
Clothing

A heart of woe stayed
With the heat
Of punishment sustained
Cooling as it’s constantly
Exhumed

4/20 Confessions

That night was
Different,
For I felt the same void breeze
Once before in a different place,

And I knew that you
Were too like that place:

Different.

Those shores down the line
Coasting shy from sky to sky

To bring us the currents of
That old breeze, carrying
Familiarly new feelings.
Each sensation,

Every single molecule on my
Hands as they grazed yours
Endured a mini apocalypse
Like my skin went nuclear,

And from then was irradiated
To be a clean slate
Upon which you
Claimed me.

And I was happy then
Even before the rockets burst
To be willful to your
Power, your yield

When you stay your hand
And declare, “bombs away!”

Your mercy and care
All rolled into one night.

Rolled like the joints
We would never touch
When offered at the
Restaurant later that night.

Confessionals are always fun
For me
But as we’ve both found out
Sometimes the truth hurts

Is it worth knowing
All the variables
And what they do
And have done?

What effect might that have
On you? On us?

Are we allowed to endure again
And undergo regrowth?
Turning the soil in our hearts
Over again to let gamma rays

Pierce through to the core
Of every shell-shocked nerve.

The truth hurts like nuclear
Bombs on a day destined

To end this way.

We’ve recovered already, driven
By androids, turned by waves
Further down the shoreline
In stories you weren’t a part of.

Let those rockets fly
And christen the world
In explosions as many
Times as it needs to see

Thermobaric mushroom clouds
Collapsing over you and me.

And after that
I want to feel the ground quake,
Volcanos to shake and tear
Apart their heads and shout

Boiling, vociferous magma
Across the sky,
Trailing ash lit by lightning
While thunder follows.

My confession before the
Apocalypse
So your god can see,
And that I may be absolved,

Is that you have always
Had that effect on me.

I have always walked
In the spirit of your words,
Of dust shadows splattered
Across walls by the force

Of light ripping through
The now-charged particles
Of a human body
Rippling with electricity.

This confession is in
Each doomsday you make me
Feel the weight of
In all the best ways

Because I know somehow
You can bring me back
From the dead with a
Touch and a whisper.

So that night while I
Learned about you, I
Began to stifle my fear
Of memory loss,

Instead focusing on saving
Every moment like it was

My last.

Now focused on making those
Thoughts permanent
And desiring destined-like
Rings to appear on fingers,

And to hope that we can
Pull anything we want
From
Thin air.

Your lips, your lips,
Apocalypse.

This is the truth
That I want to endure.

In every moment I can
Think of being my last,
Every bomb, bullet,
Disaster, starvation

Each thinkable end times,
You’re the one I want

To end time with.

Bubble Bomber

Nothing quite like
Bathing with you
In the crumbling bubbles
Of a bomb dissolving

In between what can’t
Literarily be described
As making love
On a bed we didn’t own

Then we got Wendy’s
And you got
A chicken sandwich
And I got it spicy

Whereupon we had
Brunch in that bed,
Clean and carefree
Seemingly and

Watched a show
On netflix
You were the one
That turned me on to

And kissing you
Every moment of the day
Is above and beyond
Something I will cherish

Bog Witch Brew

Before there was meaning
To any good celebrating
We shared sips of coffee
Grounds wet with rose water

Tamped, strained, and shot
Us into a daze of days
That lasted a whole week
Even though we weren’t weak

It was the brew that was
What weeks were made of
What kicked off the morning
And shut down the nights

Like a baton to the shin
It stopped us from flight
And subdued us from fighting
That day’s altering state

Then day was no longer
And it was tomorrow
As the week went on
Like it was so strong

When we bought those potions
Some spillage in the street
Made travelling by hills
Weary at even the notion

How atrocious the skull was
In foam that appeared
At the surface of liquid
Before we drank its veneer

Consuming a concoction
Of bog witch inception
Now we have
The breath of November

Within us

The red rose water
Bitter black coffee
And fragile skulls
Mixed and consumed

Took us in tune
Two months to the future
And moths disturbed
Fluttered with the lights

Of our arrival

Potion’s aftertaste so
Sweet, so savory,
Sanguine if sanguine
Had a taste perceived

Crow’s blood and dark souls
Culled to the mixture
Drank by the cup full
Of kaymak and skulls

Bones break and sinews snap
To the force of futures
As the potion works its
Magic on us consumers

Weeks become weak
Time moves swift
And amber lakes leak
Into rivers

Those rivers unto rivers
That flow into our veins
To make us strong
And to have time detained

Wicked

Burial grounds unearth the ring
On your finger:
A coffin set in red
Crystal rock

As rich in color as
Your bloody knuckles
Before they scarred over.
Walls hurt.

Vibrant as the faux
Eyeliner you’ve painted
On, designed like
Ozymandias still stood tall.

Fastiduous and full of ardor
Like a bog witch
Performing a ritual
Deep in the forest.

Be a shaman to me, resurrect
Whatever it may be
That plagues your mind
And let me see.

I want to be a part of
Your world. Whatever swamps
I must wade through,
I’d love to.

For I can imagine the things
You’ve seen in those soulful
Eyes. What war paint you wear
To make art of a guise.

You’re beautifully wicked,
Hooded like an exile
On the run, casting
All kinds of spirit magic.

Wicked with the crops
You strain through water
And drink to have energy
And commune with the dead,

Wicked with the best
You bring out of me,
Weaving illusions where
Reality alters itself.

So much so I wish I had
Been drinking roses
With you much earlier
Than I ever could.

Yuletide Cyanide

Torpor,
Headaches,
Beadaches,
Stress, and
Snow

Here I lie
Paralyzed
And consumed
By you

Being bruised
And bled
Like I’ve wandered
Into your web

Skin soft like flakes
That fall outside
How it gives to the touch
And how it melts with me

Wrapped up as I’m
In your cocoon
Bandaging me in slik
Spun of cyanide

Bruised neck
Paralyzing my stem
To the core
Of where petal beds bloom

Red like roses
Vulnerable
And thornstress poised
To stoke desire

Rooted in the soil
Of worlds of blankets
The world
We make love upon

Stayed quiet

Of yuletides and spookiness
Of ghosts that creep through
Halls of my home
In the dead of Christmas morning

Arrhythmia

Let slide writ waves on line
Though everyone else
Only hears half-lies
Infinity is our half-life

Chemical
Coastline
Where waves break
And stained glass shines

Ancient lotuses
Covered in hard rime
Radiating photic
Caffiene and dopamine

Green ivy on the
Shoreside redwoods
Turned a silvery
Gunmetal grey

Pogonip in canopies
Lake bath bombs, glittery
Its shape slowly swirling
Through the high leaves

A

Murmur
Palpitation
Irregular
Flutter

Rhythmically
And rhapsody

Shape of the waves
Beating on return
To the same coast
But stained differently

And

I can’t quite get enough of you
And I love it
Never angsty like addiction
No, this is a craving for your friction

Unsure and risky
Like your first time on skates

Don’t know what might happen next
Any expectations I had are wrecked
I can’t get enough of you
And I love it

And I love it

When you’re riding shotgun
Like twelve-gauge fire shells
And I’m driving us
To who knows where, well

I know when I get there
I’ll be able to be with you
Be able to hold your hand
And I love it

Late at night through winding roads
Every day a new venture
Nevermind the weather
Since it turns out we both like rain

It’s okay, whether it be some tea
Or a coffee place
Shady backstreet barrios
Or downtown in a big city

I know I’ll be there with you
And I love it

I like the way you taste
When I can kiss you on our way
To the next place
Any place, I’ll see your face

And any little thing I could think
Is wrong
Is fixed just by looking at
You and your grace

That’s why you’re the
Wallpaper on my phone
And your photo’s
In my wallet

Any lesion that summer seasons
Leave me, leave me when you
See me and everything
Fades from red to a warm blue

And I love it

And I love it
When you dash my expectations
And we laugh
Over the same crude thought

You and me
Risk and reward
Loving, being,
Kissing and my missing you

Not conventional
By any means
But it’s the only thing
I want, I need

And I love it

Primal

We can cover up primal thoughts
And wrap it in sweet sentiments
But the truth is always better
The more intimate we get

Like how much I love the way
You let me take off all your clothing
That I know how much it means
When you say you trust me

Trust

Struggle with
Doubts
As they sweep
Through my body
My blood
It seems
Is old itself
And almost can’t
Withstand

Trust

Let down
Backstabbed
Hurt like
Anyone can
Be

But I still
Wish to be
Vulnerable
As trust hurts
Let me be so

Trust to tell
Of stories
That otherwise
Wouldn’t be
Written

Because of
Trust
Not thanks to

Because of
Worry

Paranoia and pain
Loving it all
Like hands
To action
We love them
When they
Hurt
Since we know
It means

They blister
With force

Like when
On a hot day
At recess
We tear our palms
On monkey bars

To impress the girls

We love it when
We feel motion
When we feel
Connections

When we feel
Wanted

Especially when
Desire burns
So much
To blister

We love trust
As heat bubbles
It hurts so much
When we worry

That we haven’t
Connected
But

We love it

Passing notes
Across desks
Damaged by
Vandals

Not worrying much
About the content
Of each
Classroom

Elementary
Middle School
High School
College

And what’s same
Each year
Is that I
Worry

That messages
Sent
Read what
They mean

That trust
Persists
Across those years
And massive distance

That there’s no
Miscommunication
And there’s no
Double meanings

But over miles
And moments

I’m vulnerable

I still worry

And I
Love it