I'm an artist.

I'm messy.

 conflicted.

 I'm logically senseless. 

  I make black white and white black.

 Im every snap every clap.

 I bring near far and far near.

My mouth the gun, your heart the ear. 

Watch how I shoot,might take it straight to the dome, or straight to the hoop.

 I am the divide between them and they, 

past and present,

 imaginary and real. 

My words are your fingertips so that we all can feel.

 I am the real deal.

 I am the silent tears on a summer night.

 I am the last blow in a fist fight.

 I am the vinegar to an open wound. 

I am the dreaded verdict that came to soon.

I am the awe in a full moon.

,the jitters on Christmas eve,

I am the relief after a sneeze. 

I am the raindrops on treeptops,

 the bass when the beat drops, 

the tic when when clock tocs

 the key when the doors locked.

artist

 The .. drunk of sunsets daydreamer

,lyrics fly through my mind like bike streamers.

deep thinker

height seer 

 artist

with every part of my lip

slur of spit

sway of my hip

i art.

till death will i part

from the breath that i breathe

that art be my work 

and all of my being.

Memoirs

Some things anchored; some things sailed.

…and matters neither created nor destroyed.

In pieces, yet all at peace.

Weed makes you forget, the irony.

Two red roses, one amber rose.

Hiding Place

Sometime's I go to the lake cus it just seems like the place to go. It can be tittie-sweating hot or nose-running cold and I still go and sit on that dirty blue bench. Relaxed and belonging.. I talk to God. Sometimes, I curse him. When I'm angry, I cry..in broad daylight. In pieces, yet all at peace. I'm pretty sure I look crazy out there by myself talking(praying) and I used to pick up my phone and pretend I was on a phonecall but now I just smile, sometimes wave, other times speak, and continue on. When I finish unpacking my heart, I just sit. I like to watch the ripples of waves dance in the water and the trees laugh. I like to watch the bees buzz around me flying from flower to flower ….and matters neither created nor destroyed; for what they took from one flower became their harvest, that became my favorite thing to put on biscuits that became my favorite thing to call someone I love. Some days it would start to rain while I sat at the lake and I would think to myself how beautiful, maybe I should stay a while longer. But then I reason with myself that Ive watched too many movies, and it's best that I leave. So I leave. Some things anchored; some things sailed.