Archive for the ‘tales of the heart’ Category

Monday, June 1st, 2015

steady state theorem of a girl in a constant hypothetical dance of discussion and speech
let me dream to the rhythms of a fake mockery in a roulette with a flirtatious, wicked smile that is reserved for the most intimate of moments
captured in a steely glare but to no hearts avail i gave my soul into the Piccadilly of your twenty miles a second mind
the one that speaks and spoke of time and changed the word of science in the ways that would make the silent virgin blush
knock me down to forty cents a piece and a summary of a past hindrance
to make it appear to the galactic sisters that it was nothing short of a fall from grace
allow me to devour the words told once of a weary traveler who godspeed sent his love in a tangerine basket full of malady in good intention
bind me to the notion of the signature of a beauty in hindsight and in western books that build up the claim that might be greater than the pen
good riddance in the former and the construct of the latter for the savior of the theorist is in the newest spice in the northeastern meadow

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how does one call a stargazer who has fallen deep in fascination with the view of the soul through the iris

Thursday, January 8th, 2015

how does one call the entrapment of ones self in a labyrinth without the intention of ever entering
much less intending to stop and trace your finger on the walls
when wandering aimlessly no longer reaches a dead end
when you scrape your knees begging for father time to stretch out the realms of the grandfather clock
when you study the art of the wristwatch just to tear it apart
when you spit on the grave of former loves taken before
when you etch into your skin words of lost poets
when you speak in simpler words for perplexity is at its finest
when you lie in your back and wonder when did the human species match up to the charts of stars
touched with the back of your hand when you saw nowhere else
how does it feel when you crush limb against limb
when you see the antiqued rise of the dust collected by the hold of sweet demise
how does one call a stargazer who has fallen deep in fascination with the view of the soul through the iris