1 Timothy 6:6

Then, without warning, we switched souls
Mine with good intention and yours sullied with desire.
I gave you that holy part of me
Purifying your soul
Now I sit afflicted with the bitterness of sin
My intentions poisoned
You lie chaste in renewal
Breasts pressed against the altar
Waiting before a waiting God
The same God you have stolen while seducing my soul
Color fades to greyness
Ambiguity prevails in the space between belief and yearning
How swiftly do angels fly upon wings of forgiveness
How vast is their empire
"Godliness with contentment is great gain"
My fleeting soul clings to this notion
Venom to my lifestyle and
Bane of my convenience
Your soul is silent and still
Peacefulness protected and generated by faith
Mine runs in circles with questions
Tears the body apart in search of contentment

Riding the C-Train at Night

The behemoth slides by
Eyes of glass glistening with life
Shine, light of street,
Onto metal beer cans and fence posts
Right round where darkness falls on to her lap
is where the vomit lays
Call it the shadow dressed in stomach acid
Mighty hand drenched in blood
(Could be ketchup also I suppose)
Still warm with liquid and moist to the touch
Hold onto this silver pole
Eroded with sweat and piss and semen
Dirt is brown from living and remains so
Waiting for the years to pass
Next station.

Through these portals known as windows
Ten thousand stories wait
Lingering over crusted plastic seats and
Wendy' s wrapper's
(Open late, so you can eat shit, even late)
Lady in red smiles while clenching her teeth
She is trapped in the two dimensional cell above the entrance
Noise that is the music of sound
Next station.

Arrival and bustle and departure from the
two twisted orange triangles serving as doors
Blink
Blackness is the tunnel between waiting and there
Cracked window reveals the spot
where foreheads rest and stain the view of headlights
Too many reflections to number
and the light in her eyes is common and artificial

tapestry

Any other outlet is futile, I suppose.
Any other dream pointless.
Talent grabs you out of the fray, speaks to you, pushes you.
Inclination to love that which comes easy to you.
Running on long legs, singing with clear voice
Can we tempt the fates who weave this tapestry?
Thread of red, be creation
Blue, be life
Yellow, intertwine with brown to form destiny
The pattern becomes clear
The fates are busy with blood soaked hands
Laying it out before us in vivid color
Are we trapped in this maze of thread,
bound by stitches and needles?

the coldest desert

Somewhere between lonely and alone
I stumble

Nature denies my peace
Agressive and - (wait,
Is that truth?)
Cold

How can something so warm be void of sentiment?
Sand is made of hardened tears
Old and weary of feeling

Upon standing the sun judges me
His face glistening with liquid emotion
The desert his bride

Mother of hardship,
Let me pass.

the beginning of time

Is this the beginning of time?
Not even such a silly question fases us
Isn't time the partner of experience?

Oh, what have we become
Dealers of false hope
Peachers of misunderstanding
Wake up tommorow naked, alone, cold
Re-evaluate the state of being

Only with thought can time begin
Only with consciousness
Dreaming borrows time and contorts it into color
One year flashes by in half a second

No, let us wake for the first time
Let us think beyond mediocrity whilst adoring it
The ugliness of the human body is comparable only with it's beauty
The form of honesty

Is there anything so painful as joy?
Perhaps only the knowledge of it's fleeting nature

Make sentiment the hand that flickers
Thought the hourly stroke
A clock whose hands do not lie but yearn for truth

Make this the beginning of time.

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The need to breathe

Agony runs in livid
Cursing the need to breathe

If only darkness flew on wings of haste
If only life died sooner

Oh, how tempting is the notion of freedom
Watch agony operate the switchoard of your superconscious
Transforming dreams into nightmares

But breath,
Bane of torture
Muse of frivolity
Dare you tempt anguish?
Heart
beat
Heart
beat

The body angers the underworld in functionality
Survival wages war against insanity while
Shakespeare's two pilgrims keep life alive
Breath through the nostrils as diamonds to the ground

being

Guiltless and grey,
I stand.
Outside my self are my experiences
Mysterious glances
Story, memory, time
All these vehicles of life mold me
What belongs inside?

Tempted and weak,
I yearn.
Feeling erupts and shatters my mathematical ability
Addition is tricky when you are bleeding from the center
And I do not trust anything as infallible as logic

Painted and young,
I scream.
Color collides with imagination
The wind is my new best friend
Whoosh, sing to me
Oh, how I fear companionship outside the sandlot
Why do they call it sand instead of tiny rocks?

Confused and alone,
I run.
The night engulfs me in sexuality
The stars tickle between my legs
What is a man to a woman?
Horizon bleeds in and out and in and out of day.