high beams

the traffic lights

look far different

.

when i walk alone

a tempting waltz

.

dandelions burn

beneath my knees

.

and the crosswalk

blurs my eyesight

.

heading back home to

where grief tastes okay

.

but if the sunset asked

me to leave with it now

.

to paint my hands with

orange and abendrot

.

like stars and headlamps

shimmering before me

.

and all the colours i lost

in my travels around town

.

would i answer quickly

would i simply tell it yes?

fallen equinoxes

you are my mercurial tidal wave

the ego that wraps me up in a velvet blanket

and keeps me safe against crying storms

.

though i can barely breathe under the covers

and warmth is heavy against my pale blue skin

i’ll exhale in little wisps so there will be enough

to last both our lungs until cold morning bloom

.

you are my darling sibylline coastline

the elegance that dances me to the very end

and clings to my eyes like an overcast yellow

.

though the bright cadmium hurts my mind

and follows me to the very grey of my dreams

i’ll paint in every shade until the sun runs out

to last both our lives until idyllic evening gloom.

Danielle’s Falling October

Oh yes, she’s my redhead darling

The rarest kind that makes autumn feel so jealous

From her button freckles to her pumpkin-spice skin

She dances vivaciously in a riot of fireplace colours

.

Oh yes, she’s my redhead darling

The rarest kind that always makes my vintage heart feel new

When the pages are torn to cliffhangers and wishful nothings

Her camera smile captures every quaint blush of my pale hue.

b.r.a.i.l.l.e.

i am with the wind.

and the exhilarating thrill

envelops every sense,

taking my aching bones,

my hour-old bruises,

my smiling chipped teeth,

my angry brown scabs,

and lulling them back to rest,

making the pain seem like

just another pastel dream.

everyone’s just a myriad blur,

a riot of ceaseless colours

all rushing past me as

wheels bite gravel and spins

me to a whole new revolution

of a different planet in a

different existence where all

those bad memories don’t exist,

only i, and the sweat and rain

soaking the angel wings on

my back; feeling gravity

and friction and momentum

and all those ethereal forces of

the universe ensconced between

my scuffed red sneakers.

it’s all tricks and treats,

and it doesn’t matter if i fall

and eat concrete a thousand times

trying to do the same thing over again;

it doesn’t matter if i go home

always with new holes all over my

favourite jeans and jumpers

every single damn time;

it doesn’t matter if i’m being

chased away by the people who

think it’s a vagrant’s crime…

because the past and future tense

doesn’t matter when freedom

is felt right here, right now,

with me and my ride,

and i am the wind.

day & night

sometimes,

in the morning

when the sunshine

hits my eyes,

it’s so bright that

it reaches beyond the

very depths of me

and leaves some light

for me to enjoy—

.

but then evening comes,

and the shadows

blind my eyes,

and it’s so dark that

it takes me back into the

very depths of me

and makes me forget

what colours look like…

and i’m not okay again.

Dry Spell

So it’s over? I didn’t realise
It’s so much colder, but it was no surprise
Did you ever get to know me?
‘Cause it has never been so plain to see
And when you say you won’t forget me
Well I can tell you that’s untrue…

~*~

Laughter, that’s all it was, plain and simple, but to me it was a taste of a thousand pink cloud summers spinning overhead the aegan firmament, all at once. Those sunshine glances melting dulcet like sugar cubes in freshly-brewed coffee and lingering softly in dusky southern winds, trailing a fragrant aroma of a verdant fruit orchard freshly blossoming in spring afternoons. Captivated ears perked up as clumsy legs tangled together in a giggling mess of auburn hair and sapphire glances, and the most quiescent sliver of blushing stardust glimmered above it all in enamoured amusement; our faraway symphonic orchestra humming about a foggy eventide streetlight dalliance, concealed under burning shadows on a shivering autumn gloom. Laughter, that’s all it was, elegant and intricate, tasting of an effulgent fireworks display of blueberry ice cream and bubblegum-stained candy floss and red velvet chocolate, all detonating and delicately fizzling out like an exquisite festival in my minty tongue. But the ephemeral seasons have come and gone like drizzling October rain, and that was my final winter’s chill. I don’t want to feel warm ever again.

~*~

And I’ve worn out all the reasons
To keep on knocking at your door
Could be the changing of the seasons
But I don’t love you anymore…

Sleepyheads

Found no solution but to let the pieces fall where they fall
Even with nothing left, I’ve got more than you know
I wanna let you in and we’ll begin
I oversimplify this all the time
Somehow I think that I’m alone
I wake up every day and change my mind…

~*~

Good morning, darling sunshine, how are you today?

I’m a thousand miles where I live, and a million where you are

But it’s a little closer to you, and a little less familiar

I’m up eight floors of daybreak and shaded in viridian colours

Although it’s a quiet haze for me, I’ve never felt better

.

Good morning, yellow lovely, hope you’re having a great day

My blankets may be cold, but my dreams feel rather safe

Of insane trainwrecks and mad doctors and accidental murders

Okay—perhaps it was a little strange, but I must confess

I woke up in metaphysical iridescence, and I’ve never felt the best

.

Good morning (or perhaps evening), how do you do?

I’ve gone to places and labyrinthine mazes and incoherent disputes

But the best is where I was, where I don’t think too much

Where I’m content with overly-caffeinated nights and later-day chats

And I still constantly think of home—not the place I’ve been

But inside the illusion of infinity thereafter, where I’m contented again.

~*~

Why did I let it go? Why did I leave myself?
No explanation as to why I’m here and not somewhere else
It’s reaping what I sow, I think I need some help
I wanna let you in, and we’ll begin..

Schmetterling

I don’t wanna know where your heart goes
I don’t wanna die out of your throes
I don’t wanna know where the wind blows…

~*~

She was an exquisite butterfly

Her fragile and delicate wings

Shimmering in pastel colours

As it catches against sunshine

And I’m the withered daffodil

That she’s fluttered away from

After sucking all the sweetness

From my once-blooming bones.

a self-portrait painted on anaheim landscapes

I did what I do best, forgot myself
Got overdressed like everybody else
A glance and a half smile
Black heels on the white tile
It took seven years for your path to realign…

~*~

i am made of torn skin

and overplayed stereo songs

and a million miles to cali

and washed-out daydream colours

i’m lost; some would say gone

and my stares are silent dynamite

i remember what i throw away

again my tongue detonates

and i’m searching for meaning

in a world that’s as meaningless

as a crude april first joke

and not in the least bit funny

but i’ll keep on looking anyway

and maybe it will make sense

in some parallel universe someday

where time doesn’t wear my skin

and songs never sound the same

and cali’s just a tiptoe and half away

and the daydream never fades.

~*~

Gone, doesn’t it feel good to be invisible?
Gone, just like the way I used to be
Gone, have I been fading away?
Yeah, I’m so gone, gone…

Hey, Sky Eyes

Drop it right now
You’re one of my favorite few
Can’t stop me right now
Like you’d even want to
What do I do?
You’re one of my favorite, can’t take it
You’re one of my favorite few…

~*~

Infatuation is a stupid word to use on you

And I am about as optimistic as a sinkhole

But these hands are clumsier as they deign

And nimbus clouds grow brighter as it falls

.

It’s out of hand, limerence aching for a getaway

Ecstatic until I’m plastic like dandelion sundays

I can’t be grounded out in the cold, so stay awake

I’ll hide the blush in my skin, if that’s what it takes

.

My dizzy head lies in double time, and my vision’s red

You’re too far from home, but that won’t stop the dead

And a half in my dried mouth, so I’ll keep on ad-libbing

Until every disaster hears the conversations still ongoing

.

The night is a black eye and the purple moon’s just jealous

As ready set stars in my head are restless and overzealous

And I never have time to play favourites when I feel down

I may be a thorn in your neck, but you’re my flower crown.