transitions
white noise of the city
turned into sweet melodies
of internal turmoil
and
memories
a fourth-floor walk-up,
moon melting into the trees
drunk on lust
and
momentarily lost
white ashes
and
a neon cross
yesterday,
the weeks went by
faster than the days
Life Cycles
the moon,the smell of melting cement tales of others
the taste of blood on my gums
entangled hair, heavy breathing
a bus ride
we both hide behind walls impenetrable
lie,
no one is immune to feeling
a shirt drops
Now the sheet smells like cement
A lion’s fur, wilderness
I sit on the bed
touching places fingers have traveled in the past
unfortunately not in the present but perhaps in the future
one lion bites,
and everything I thought I knew
Sinks
down a deep deep deep hole
the moon
again, the moon.
no dancing in Paris
The body soaks it in
it remembers.
the reason
clueless,
ignores
Emotions inform
reactions
again,
the body
the mind is asleep
quick
try and think
about everything,
with intent
feeling stuck
in between
the city walls
where to next?
it's only the beginning
we exist everywhere
a gentle embrace
and the heart tightens
the body loosens
our shadows
finally
dance free