thoughts

have you ever seen someone and thought they were a work of art?
i mean... i guess we're all works of art.
but i like some pieces of art better than others.

torn apart, an iron heart violently yields to magnetic forces.
two poles of two worlds tug at the specimen's innards.
yearning for something not found in voices...
truth is the sun that eludes the center.

too many tongues salivate cesspools of chemicals,
these gasolines pump pistons in our brains.
tanks in a row trudge towards sacred Petra,
but the bedrock is no hiding place for the sane.

tired sunsets reward the dusty pilgrim with a darkness,
and no moon rises to redeem the fallen day.
machines and men alike make rythyms to move forward.
the way is paved with bones bleached white and rusted plates.

If only you knew how much I hate you sometimes.

summertime, when existence is taxing,
over-complication overcomes us
not unlike a heat wave.
is there something in the air?
did the spring snow melt
and turn to wine?
or maybe we're waking late,
drowsy from a hibernational state.
the summer, unforgiving epoch:
why did it come this time,
and not another cycle?
maybe noon is a sign
of our overheated little brains.

two brown eyes
saw a painted world
your beautiful smile
sealed pain.
pure infatuation
never really left,
-to see you again
i just remember


it's all i have-
a warn-out film
transcending time,
refusing truth:
you said she'd be lucky,
(with sly smile)
how i wished to treasure you,
lips against mine.


and the reel flickers,
a longing wick;
are you still blind,
or did i never see?
maybe it's true
that big brown eyes
remember me
in reflected screens;


now i sing:
where did you go?
the song is still your name.
the refrain echoes in my head
the thought-
to see you again.