Tongueless Mouth.

Pointed rainbow teeth
gnashing a delicate
glass sundae.

Gums bleed
maroon doubt,
a yearning trickle
of dissolved excitement.

Swallowing,
choking,
coughing up regret.
For a taste that it
could never actually get.

Like You Died.

This silent sleeper,
guarded by the family,
until called upon.

Waiting for its moment
to rise
with glory
and make everything
right.

Protection with wits
learned in an abyss
applicable to a few
critical situations.

For now it slumbers,
though,
until crisis or,
an awakening love
rouses.

Cadence

Kneeling near a foggy pond
tossing pebbles,
watching the ripples.
 
He hopes the tiny waves
reach the other side,
through the mist,
where he cannot see.

Ever since one watery wrinkle
found its way to him,
he does this,
waiting.

Death on Revival

In the decency of a corner when
some siphoning lemon light
drains dreams
I thought were forgotten.

Death on revival, though,
births an acceptance
of what was already
long gone.

Perhaps.

Overrun.

Static veers toward
this epicenter,
prickling.

Washes away, this everlasting rain,
the blood from my exposed,
knotted heart.

In the street,
helpless.
 
Unseen in an intersection.

Emerald light fills my eyes.

Ruby Birth

Buried beneath pebbles...

bones becoming dust...

Broken by quakes,

crushed, cracked by world's crust.


Umbras usher blackness where

vacuumed voices bear whispers.

Now noises be muffled.

Here, the silence is crisper.


Viewing via internal immediates,

some shift to internal ideofacts.

Waiting for a ruby birth,

idol concerns amply distract.

No Tone, Not One.

Ill llanos, treeless.
Still illusions will illuminate,
lexically,
even where there are none,
not one.
Even in a scape with
no tone.
Greys filling,
the colors killing
the moodiness of some.