silence so deafening.

And all the pathes would lead to the ocean.
And all your trailes would lead to the hills.
conflicting drifts of hot air to who knows where
Without knowing its not here

The opaque light that glistens off the tiny dots of brown
Unfamiliar familiarity to the sunshine

Of yesterday

Of tomorrow

Of no today.

Strange to the bones between the bones
Behind eye sockets of laughter
Behind eye sockets of sadness.

You call my name
Into empty caves of darkness
Your eyes like emeralds, seeing
What you want to see.

Somedays I see Art beneath the creeses in your hands
Somedays I am scared to see who you are when I am not around
Somedays. Somedays only sometimes matter somewhat.

MY heart is sore.
Somedays.

Without oceans an hills
Could the bloody pomegranate live.
Maybe Santa Cruz is the only place
It exists
Between the flesh of your big toe
And the marrow of my mind
Is it conditional to the conditions
That you created.

I know you have had your mind on those minded
Submissive jewels.
But tell me then, what are you doing with that jagged boulder
You keep tossing around and keeping near.
I can’t help but fear you miss those pretty little things that fit so nicely your pocket.