SOL: Doomed

Offering up flesh like
Unholy sacrifice, baiting sinners to sink their
Teeth into something richer in the hope it
Leads them into damnation

I can’t help toeing the lines of decency
No one is as good as you think they are
No lips are as soft as you expect when you
Plummet head first into them like a trainwreck

3AM Thoughts // AKA “You Lost Me When You Slipped Into Consciousness.”

SOL: Demands

Did she fix you? Was she able to undo the
Years of damage I subjected you to?
Is it still my hands you want applying
The bandage to the wound?
Am I still the one who wounded you?

3AM Thoughts // AKA “A Simple Yes or No Will Suffice.”

MIND: Sveglia

The millions are awake enough for physical labor; but only one in a million is awake enough for effective intellectual exertion, only one in a hundred millions to a poetic or divine life. To be awake is to be alive.

Walden // Henry David Thoreau

SOL: Salve

Her hands were the closest
Thing I have ever felt
To a deity, a higher power
A rotten good time.
There must be
A cure for this; harnessing power
From a liberated women,
I watch her live through
Smoke screens, admire how
She avoids commitment through
Nimble feet, boca de piñón
She gives me the worst dreams.
I am sure through her palms I would be
Absolved of all sins, forgiven for future
I would tear myself apart
To figure her out, to be given
The chance to see her in the morning
Stripped down, covered inch by inch
In the sun’s rays like
A slow eruption, a fiery blessing
Reticently learning that
All things worth having come
Attached to a lesson.

3AM Thoughts // AKA “Looking for Reasoning to Obsession.”