Former Friends Fading Fast

Hate has grown in my heart

For everything you do and say

It was everything I had

And you just threw it away

I can see it in your eyes

Shows itself in what you say

Materialized in all my tears

But it fades day by day

Cognizant of nothing now

My absence is what you will pay

Sense Solid Sensations

I can taste your passion

Grazing across my tongue

The flavor is your gentleness

Drinking love songs sung

Pouring from your mouth to mine

Savor being young

I can see your passions

Dancing through the air

Warmth from across the room

Created through a stare

A glimpse into my happiness

Just because you're there

Hurry Home

In the distance the sound of a rooster waking is heard. The sound of his cry echoes in an omnipresent sort of way, reassuring me that the day, in fact, has begun. Whether or not he is happy about it has been the debate for some time. At that very same moment, a male cardinal leaps up into a batch of bird seed laid out especially for him, in feeder erected like that of an alter. I watch him as he does a nervous dance for food, making me wonder if he ever truly gets a break from the impeding danger of being a bird. I understand his plight when an orange feline springs from the bushes and lands at my feet. I look up to find the bird as he wants me to see him, gone. I second guess his presence and wonder if he was ever there.

It is silent. Leaves dance a soft waltz until hitting the ground without a sound. The lion next to me sleeps, not caring if I or anyone else is there to notice. This is comforting for me, for in this moment it is my desire to be unnoticed, transcended past solitude. Self-reliance is my breakfast, energized by a bold black coffee growing cold in the winter air. The sun has little hope of breaking through the clouds today, yet there is an odd purplish hue casting light on the blanket of browns and reds covering the grass.

The air is heavy and carries a robust smell of wood through the yard, hitting me between the eyes and embedding in my thoracic cavity. I seem to be anchored to the steps in which I sat so freely on minutes ago. There is an exhale of responsibly translating into white clouds of breathe fading quickly into the morning. A lady bug has made camp on the leg of my pants and I admire her audacity. The Lady would surely make home of where it pleases, and where ever she may be.

The rooster crows for the third time, and I take this as a sign of biblical proportions. I retreat into the dwelling that I will, for now, call my home.

Write for You

Liberation in syrupy words

Dripping from your mouth

Leisurely falling in my soul

Pushing my heart south

Harvesting Identity

Liberation in narrowed eyes

Painted for my own

Blind to all iniquity

Healing sorrow sown

Cultivating all of me

Liberation in a smile

Sly, yet not too guarded

You may give it to the world

But, I will keep it shielded

Promising fidelity

Here, Little Bumble Bee

Here, little bumble bee

Let us play with fire

In the flames, there I will see

What's your true desire

For I cannot foresee

Or direct your passions

And I long to be with thee

In an earnest fashion

Here, little bumble bee

Please do not deceive me

It's too far for me to flee

You've begun to scare me

Will you use your stinger

And lay me to my waste

Or am I the ring leader

The master of the pace

As you draw in nearer

My eyes will open wide

And I will see you clearer

And I will then decide

It will then, be too late

And I will not be free

I will surely learn my fate

For dealing with the bee