mind play

it keeps going back. my mind-play. city of boston.

you bring me joy. the waters. the rhymes. your cushion of tongues. glorious. even in the rain, that washed my saliva away. i felt your skin. the beauty of your breath. the warm embrace in our nudist role-playing. so sexual, you say. oh so sexual, you make me squirm. but your nipples. the shape of your navel. and the touch of your skin. so amorous, it makes me swoon. and tie my finger nails to your skin... when i leave. i feel a pain. difficult at first. harder with times. it never fades away. for the men and women, of the deeds of noble endeavor. the sweat and blood on your scalpel edge address a weakness. a disease, of sorts. man wanted to go. to wrap up in a blanket of gold and shimmer in a pastry box across from the hotel window. puppetry and doll-like. facades and brick tables. leave me alone. take me with you. you know who you are. i have loved you.

day to day

lick. smack. kiss. feel.

this world. this globe of children and feather patios. of silk pantaloons and patchwork peppermint. i want to embrace your breast.

i have missed you. and now that i'm back. i realize how deep this love is. white marble lion manes. day to day. this craving is bone-deep.

fold

sometimes when you break. you are in so many pieces that rebuilding seems like an impossibility. it does not even seem like a hopeful endeavor. it seems pointless. it seems childish and child-like. and you lose your soul. you lose so much. the tears are only a small part, i promise. you set aside all the endeared memorabilia that you collected over the years. little pebbles you stored in a jar. thinking, one day, you and i will go back to the storm and paint a rhyme with those.

sometimes it takes a loss. sometimes, a gain. and sometimes, a rejection. many rejections. it takes a while to crawl back into the home that you called home. your sisters, brothers, cousins and uncles are so seethed in their own, that they forgot you were lost. but you never went home. you went out to the world instead. and you played the guitar in subway stops and chai bars. you wanted to cure those children who were born with hearts that would kill. take a flurry of streamers and decorate a face. saying to yourself, let me start again. one by one. let us build a bridge.

and sometimes, in life, you learn to re-believe. is that realism? you ask. is that realistic? i ask. what of the jealous bastards? those stones you wore around your waist, where are they now? you have an outlet, to scream. to cry. to vandalize a wall of hopes. you learn to re-believe. you pull out your cups and pans. your old memorabilia from the lonely dresser.

and walk to the mirror. drop a tear ball. and start from zero.