Heart Still Beats

woke up reflective, having dreamt of past heavy things. i took this picture a few days before my suicide attempt back in 2009, and seeing it takes me to a surreal place. i don't know if anything we do really matters, and i struggle to hold on to hope at times, but here's to surviving one more day. even if the sun hurts my eyes.

heat

there are witches
warlocks
all along the bar
drinking
serving shots
pounding the jukebox
huddling at tables
filling the dancefloor
post apocalyptic punks
switchblade foxes
making rollerskates sexy
and tearing hearts in two
a sweat-filled room
of neon and wooden crimson
no place in the world
you'd rather be rocking
no other false redhead
you'd rather be stalking
like a ravenous dog
with a sack full of dirty tricks

the lion

i'm out walking
notice a dandelion's head
a white and lovely parachute
floating motionless
not drifting or blowing around
just floating
i stand there for a minute
watch this thing hover
defiant against the breeze
i figure it must have some business
or it's waiting for a friend
i nod and carry on
confident in its stalwart watch
the lonely dandy at my back
a guard at the gates of nowhere

drifting

on a world-weary ship
towards a new world
through restful waves
and violent, cresting tumbles
with a dying sun before me
that sinks beneath
the merciless edge of horizon

may I sting you?

hands oustretched
i pace and yell
exploding
as everything within
my locked chest
and stitched-up heart
comes spilling out
in a wrathful heave
leaving me stark
naked as a baby born
a buzzy bee
anxious for the spring

paranoia

just beyond a shambled labyrinth,
past rows of bloody, rusted spikes
adorned with decaying heads
of make-believe usurpers,
rests the dying body,
the anxious spirit,
of a once and powerful King of Nothing,
persisting in his empty reign
as life goes on without him

midnight

time is passing
every hour, every minute, every second
it's passing now
and now again
hold out your hand
in any direction
up or down
vertically or horizontal
feel the ripple
as time washes through your fingers
with a wiggle perhaps
of your pinkie, maybe your thumb
time can be altered
nudged and persuaded
to follow direction
change tempo according to mood

black

the black is pitch
silent
engulfing
abyssal
slimming
the black is shelter
warmth on a cold winter's day
a test of strength
beneath the blazing summer sun
the black is without
as well as deep within
a part of what keeps me apart
from all that I'm afraid
and all that I love
I love the black
unconditionally
no jealousy when I see
the black adorn another's breast
just pride
look how beautiful the black can be
embraced
nurtured
given free reign
against the arrogance of color
yes, I love the black
it was an usher in the beginning
and will greet me at my story's end
after carrying all the weight I have given it

sense and sexability

there's warmth
and there's rhythm
varied
silken
cresting
like a thunderous wave
of blood and sweat
tears
of bliss and sorrow
love
everlasting
hate
never softening
emptiness
overflowing
as smoke unfurls a goodbye