sometimes made of metal and other times no more than a passing fancy
whether deciding to be the destroyer of myths or the conjurer of rumors
no one force of nature may predict one’s inclinations
They are like a body of water
tranquil at times and raging at others

I’m inclined to recline when it comes to proclaiming my inclinations
Sometimes I’m in the water facing the surface yet never catching breath
never gaining air smothered by the cooling mass
a desire beyond all that I can bear to have my face escape this watery grave
but I can’t since I’m held back

though swaying with every easy and pretty word that comes my way but what holds me fast
against those pretty persuasions
maybe that mountain of memory, usually the weakest of all muscles,
that I’ve enforced by will to create a tower
that hampers even the most potent attraction
I will always be true even when swimming in the raging surf.
I’ve no reason to survive if I forfeit that.


plain ol

Ravaged by love
Skin smashing skin

Grappling and gripping
Breathing layered by desire

Frosted and relaxed
Quietude and the stripping down of my breath

Joy in the simplicity, plain ol good.

It doesn’t need to be infused with role-playing, costumes, or multiple partners

Nothing mechanized!

Just doin’ it
Two bodies moving in the moonlight waves.

Cool-Named Real-Life Gunslingers

Check it out–

This article covers people like Bear River Tom and Poker Alice –


to be one so close to many
yet so much on my own

without the feeling of intimacy
and only the proximity

I bathe in sunlight
with my fellows which
I feel nothing for

I drink in the wealth of nature
enjoying my share not caring
how the others fare

the wind when it comes and violates the calm in all its perfection
performing it’s swaying intercourse I feel every sensation
I am one with this wind but not with the others that
ride on this crazy flower

some of them fall into the grass and
I feel the pressure to merge with the earth
in this realization I feel closer to something
just don’t know what it is

Creation of Suicide

life marred by sensitivity
wishing endeavors didn’t expend any effort
and that hurt could be neutralized
fighting the good fight with ghosts
vapor and synapse
yielding to abuse and ignorance
I need to control the pain I give myself
cutting to extreme as long as no one
knows how much hurt I do feel.

I can pretend. I can walk on a wire.
fight pain with the desire to suppress all feeling
not just hurt because there are other things I want to avoid
while hurtling in this void where the numb state is sought.

Driving over people to make it to places and check it off the list
so that when the knife ultimately cuts through the artery I’ll have
a completed list of inane tasks that will dissolve into the ether
and will become completely unknown, utterly alone.


so much anger
so much unresolved
so much hatred
so much trapped in this bizarre
it marks the beginning and the end of the relationship
yelling for righteousness in the opera of the insane
cracks in the outhouse
as crap seeps out

I hope you have to wait around and collect your rage and know how hard I feel
how I wish the mountaintops recede into the clouds
where there is strength in blue collisions

just want to make sure this is all I am to receive
this is all I am to benefit

this is all I get
even if I want more. I can’t have it and I never will because you hold everything against me.
You give me nothing and you do nothing too. Nothing for me.

If it were ice cream, I’d lick the fuck out of it

Like that cloud that looks like a scoop of ice cream, consider it licked

The lead singer’s voice from Incubus that would be succulent

a bloom in the vastness of a despairing landscape

a gentle drifting snowflake with zero wind to capture it in a turbulent fall

the beach at midnight with a dying campfire and the silence
except for a few crackles and the background roar of surf on the shore

bare feet, yuk I know! but the way they feel in dewy grass

that feeling of getting up thinking it’s Monday but then you figure out it’s really Saturday
yeah, that’s a gimme a day off to explore

that smell from a barbecue with all that meat cooking, perhaps sulphur to a vegan but the smell to me signifies savory

the coolness of water on a muggy day

the crunch of packed snow underneath my feet

people being nice to one another

coffee in the morning when my motor refuses to run

a trail through the woods to a waterfall

a blanket on the sandy beach underneath a palm tree shade

there are so many things that I would lick
if only they were ice cream
so I wouldn’t get sick.