When The Music Stops

when the music stops…
last note from the last song fades into the background
the album’s spin is through…

that’s when you hear the sound
of an echo turning blue

then you feel the freeze
colder than the arctic

silence

a lead-footed frost nips at your ears
’cause there’s no sound
to muffle the splashing of your tears

Starvation

when you can never get enough food to eat bc of your metabolism & the horrors of capitalism 

when you can never hear enough compliments bc your low self esteem keeps tossing them aside

when each day feels the same as the last bc of the same old shiz 

when you’re ready to quit climbing the mountain you’re on & just fall into the sea 

that’s when you compose a post

just to see

how many others are just as hungry 

as me

just to see

how many others aren’t free

Love Seed

There are days where I don’t particularly feel anything
More days than I care to even fathom
Days where any sensation seems to pass over me with no bearing
As if I were merely a phantom

Drifting along in space without a suit, no oxygen to breathe
You’d think that would be cause for alarm
Perhaps it would
If it weren’t one of those days

More days than I care to fathom
Makes me wonder if Time is actually passing at all
Is it like smoke?
Does the inside of Pandora’s box simply not care
or is the punchline missing from this big cosmic joke?

Still…

These days are not everyday
at least I’ll tell myself that while I continue to be
& squeeze my eyes until they’re ready to bleed

letting the tears water my Love Seed

Banshee Screams from the Pacific Coast

What is this desire to unsucceed spectacularly in every way, burbling in the underbelly of my being like a cooking teapot, scorching hot to the touch & an ear-splitting high pitched whistle?

The way it reels my soul in, leaving me gasping & flopping about like a common guppy….something in the air does not compute…

And what’s so strange, so scary, is that this sensation is a haunting from a specter causing an unsettling disturbance in the force from a source of which time has no bearing. The ghost of past, present, & future together in a cataclysmic bang of the forever beforeandafter

…temporal curses…

Ain’t that a bitch?

Less a question of ability, moreso a question of fortitude. A quiet quandary of epic proportions. Raging like the Great Red Stain of Jupiter.

something in the air does not compute…
there is no air

& I’ll suffocate under the weight of a thousand unanswered questions before I have time to wake up

Do U?

do you dream in color, vintage sepia, or do you divide & minimize?

do you like to play, do you know how to walk that way, or do you treat everyone like notso conspicuous spies?

nothing stays the same, they say
do you find that okay?

do you live for water or dance with the flames?

do you lie, oh liar, or lie comfortably in the shade?

do you stay mindful?  should you be marked present or late?

do you hate or do you Live 4 Love?