still

waiting.

a cup
that never runneth.

even birdsong
drowns
in its own stagnation.

something,

coming but
never here….

only the
waiting.

waiting for love to finally (re)appear.

waiting for destiny to thrust aside care.

waiting for hope to push back fear.

waiting to age, one more year.

flowing
through rushing currents
of life ecstatic,
still my friend,

i wait for you.

prayer

waiting
for you was never a chore
because you
were always there
next to me.

loving you
burns
like
24 year old scotch
whiskey
slipping under my soul.

life
is filled
with wonder and
peace when
my gaze meets
yours.

you
and
I
shall travel forever

dancing
together on
infinite winds

across the
wings of
memory.

yes,
we will know
eternity.

❤️❤️❤️

upwards

whirlwinds
of desire
rise
from these
clenched toes.

you
Have
no Idea
what ecstasy feels
as
it fornicates
wickedly with serendipitous bliss.

or
when passions
and purpose
join
in orgies of
tittilatory and
anticipatory worship.

are you asleep?

perhaps.

beauty rains
her love upon these waiting
lips.

and i hunger for
more.

are you still waiting?

sorry,

we’re gone.

borrowed

your STORY
buried,
under the debris
of the self righteous delusion of dharmic illusion.

 

 

your MAGIC
hidden,
away
behind the
cashmere curtains
of holy tricksters:
self-proclaimed sages.

 

your LIGHT,
dimmed,
by a fear to BE
greater.

 
your VOICE,
muted
by parroted aphorisms.

 

 

 

YOU,
wonderful YOU,
just a wisp
of the
Beauty  contained within.

you need not be limited.
and diminished
by their stolen jargon.

 

you CAN let go these borrowed
pretensions,

and

Love

you,

and the

star’s fire that you are.

come
dance and play within the flame;

Burn this mutha’ down,

and then,
let’s fly
as we wild things do.

ain’t free*

tickled by
sweet
desire,
i run
faster than you can feel.

touch,
deeper than you can know.

love,
bigger than you can imagine.

so,
can you really

know where i am going?
if i don’t?

appreciate this lovin’
if it comes with a twist?

surrender everything
and enter the divine?

maybe I’ll get
you a pair
of go-fasters,
so you can do you,
and let me
be free.

or maybe,
I’ll just keep on running,
until i fly
again.

cuz,

(you
aint
neva
been
‘ta
spain.)

*inspired by Mr. Lamar

closer

calling faintly
from the ether,
her enticingly familiar
figure
beckons
and
instills
fear.

the brink of consummation
is the precipice from which we
tumble,
together at first
and then,
rudely,
roughly,
rapidly,
we fall away from
ourselves
and the each other
into shells of distraction and,
(perceived truths?)