What is Your Favorite window

The snow flakes float gently to the ground as the windows of my homes play their frames of my life in different locations. Each flake stunningly the same and eerily different. They pile up amongst my stance in the perfection that only nature can achieve.  I am warmed by the hot water hitting my back as I look at the snow capped mountains from the comfort of my mountain shower.  That is probably my favorite window. For it holds me when I am coldly excited for what is to come next from the sunshine that I am holding in my hand. And in the other a sliver of sappy soap that I use as my last effort to purify my soul.  Each passing car in my foggy window entices all of my excitements. I maximize the time spent in the shower so that I go from prone to a resonating sound in your thoughts.

 

I admit that I have never had one of the many supper powers that I may have wanted to but I do posses many superfluous powers that I leave to lead me out and into control. I am weaving across all of the lines in my head, crossing the T’s and dilating my eyes before they run circles around me…

I have the ability to consume too much of everything! Less it be sea food…

I will take everything that is given to me even Shit, just not sea food…

I will admit that I am robbing myself of the real life.  I now party with the rocks that used to Fragle.

I am a buoy at the mercy of the high and low tides. I also have to deal with myself all day everyday! it’s a battle, You Know!

Especially if you are the only one beating yourself down. All of the ladies holding signs of days past,  I am Friday Six November! Got to start some where huh?

 

Internet Dating

 

Run Away Train

Down I fall with gravity taking over my moving parts as I release the breaks on my life that provide the hesitation from living her with life. My breaks fail as fast as my heart. For once I am on a track I am a runaway. I fall too quickly and run with her too freely.  The love remains as a caboose.  I search for the engine that is traveling the same track as I but in the opposite direction. The one that won’t slow down, the one that travels on her tracks and by some unforeseen force crosses the same tracks that I travel upwards at that critical moment of collision

 

The collision of passion is the one that I search for the one that takes a hit and then realizes what she was hitting. 

 

I tap my heart for feelings of bliss but I can only come up with opportunities missed. So As I Kareem down the tracks of this round about I think about the bliss of a new set of tracks. Some where without the round about, somewhere around or there about her tracks is where I want to run a-way.

 

My Ideal first date is the one of pure chance. That random bumping into on the street or accidental stepping on toes in the train that forces eye contact and an apology, then the continuing eye contact. That leads to a conversation that drowns out the rumbling sounds of everything else but our two hearts. If not that then it would have to be a casual meeting with no set plans or destination, just time spent wandering each others souls to see if they enjoy each others company.

 

Romancing The Stoned part 2:

 

The cold gusts of a Sunday evening give way to the warming thoughts of you. The fire begins to roar fed by your prevailing winds. The sap pops as the thin planked door slams open in the midst of your strongest gust. I smile from under my blanket on the couch and wine “I’m hungry honey”

 

Your eyes roll as you shoulders shrug off the heavy coat and close the door. I am now behind you sharing my warmth. I surround you with my blanket and walk you to the fire. I build a tent by opening my arms and we relish the moment until once again I tease “I’m hungry honey!” You being used to our routine go to the kitchen and open the fridge to see what you can whip up but this time you open the refrigerator and find only an envelope on the top shelf. It reads Please meet me in the Bedroom, you close the light on the fridge walk past the flickering fire and into the candle light of our room witch I have turned into our dining place for tonight. I pull a seat out for you and reclaim mine. I fill your glass with white and watch your cheeks turn flush.  We toast to this Sunday night as our feet reaffirm how we are feeling. Cold…

 

“So what did I do to deserve this? You seductively ask

“Uh, You don’t remember!?” I retort in a pouting manner.

 

Your face goes blank as I pull up the black plastic bag from the floor. Your eyes well up as I place the greasy ass bred sticks onto the fine linen napkin held by a basket in the middle of our table.  

 

“It’s only the anniversary of probably our best date ever!’’

 

I prove to have out done my self by bringing extra bags of plastic-ware and even refills on Diet Coke.

 

We eat our now cool fast Italian food and poke fun at to who is at fault for this whole having fallen into love thing. What ever it is. mmmmm

 

Bottles of Sand

Ships carve my corked screwed eyes into the cyclones of your swirl.

 

 I burry my thoughts of you into the coals, huge un-written scrolls waiting to be dampened by the very best of fighters for my flame, the water falls slow.

 

I silently kiss your hand before I fall

 

You begin to crys-two-light up my life. I scan your icy peaks and take mental notes as to what tools I will need on my accent to your ice cubed eyes. I untangle and re-tie the knot on the back of my boot. I take a real deep smokers’ breath and put my first forward forward. I fall deeply into this climb as my heart passes my gut that is quickly rising.

 

It is a strange feeling this love, you Know? It is the umbrella of all other feelings. Either you have it and you are happily dry or you don’t in witch case you are drenched to the bone cold and miserable. At least I think? For I have never been without it but I have been drenched cold and in a miserable state relishing those that I love, my many umbrellas, all of you fill my giant margarita glass with color, it is me that takes negatives of myself.

 

Order Up!

“Anyone who claims that sunshine is the only way to happiness obviously has never danced in the rain.” 

The storm passes those that wait for the sun and dances with those that create rainbows with it. So I dance in the rain and I feel the sun as our beauty creates both ends of it. The colors strike others as beauty but to me they are just the steps of our growing dance. 

The pot of gold has been lost to the sun.

Color meets the rain drops that cleanse my tears and begins to create the colors of yours.  The mere sheen of your eyes in a puddle sends tingles down my spine as though you had just struck me with your lightning. My full body shiver is more than enough thunder to make me feel as though you were here.

I watch the rain drops hit the oil filled puddles that I equate to your eyes. The ripples of rain disturb your eyes in an unnatural way. Your blood colors my eyes with shots of clarity as if the rain that falls tonight was that of Visine. So with my sight unfortunately cleared I dance.

 I once again forget about all others and loose myself in the rainbows of your oily eyes.

 

Falling Asleep

I struggle to fall asleep.

I close my eyes and open a book full of blank pages. I start with letters to myself and begin to weave a story. I thumb through the pages and watch nothing but the numbers as they climb higher. My thumb tests the sharpness of each leaf as the smells of this unwritten world waft through my senses. I reach the bottom of the pile and return to the beginning for another smell. I smell flowers, honey, trees, rivers and mountains, all pushing their way through a perfume of shear elegance. I return to the prelude and watch letters turn to words and words into whimsical sentences. I let the sentences illustrate pages beyond the introduction. I meet characters as they converse with each other by the river in the mountains amongst the flowers. I breathe deeply as the pile of pages burry me in numbers and morning draws near. I find myself falling through a pile of thoughts as leaves are thrown over my fading body. My legs twitch and I begin to loose myself in this bed time story. I let the characters take over the letters and sentences as I watch their paintings illustrate my mind. My neck tingles as a soft breeze pass over it. My body rolls over as the illustrations begin to fade. I smell the flower that grows by the winding river amongst the trees in the fading mountains as the mornings fog moves in. Afraid of the light but drawn to the flower I open my eyes slowly.

I begin to see blue through the haze and immediately recognize beauty as her continence smiles at me. I wrap my body around her warmth and stare deeply into her eyes. She whispers “good morning, how did you sleep?” I respond with a smile. “I think I am still dreaming” She assures me I am not with a kiss of honey from cherry petals. I taste the flower that lays in my bed within my cabin by the winding river amongst the trees that dress the mountains in this world belonging love.

 

Moving

 

The train rocks my body back and forth as I stare into the eyes of a picture in my mind that was taken years before I fell in love with you. The breaks squeak as I release the last breath that I stole from you. You lurch forward and begin to clammer your sound into my heart. The air conditions itself and condenses as droplets on the ceiling. My body fights through the miniature convulsions of your warming sound. The butterflies tickle the back of my throat as your gaze anticipates my voice. My vision darts back to the floor and I say hello to the linoleum. Too bad… I will miss you until the marrow when we continue our game of make the first move.

 

Love exits and hurries herself to a final destination as I remain focused on this picture that was taken years before you were mine.

 

Lifes Little Sister

I have begun to remember my dreams, or have they remembered me? Little objects around the house spark the plethora of pictures that were stored long ago. I have become the fortunate archeologist that stumbles upon the find of his career. My job has become to make sense of the disintegrating dreams of my past. With words missing and entire pages lost to the fires in my mind the carbonized dreams that remain scream their importance as the simple whisper of spring’s breeze turns them into dust.  I remember! I remember the big picture as I used to. I see the future and not the past or present. My dreams have returned and I am once again dancing with a smile. I see life as she dances with another and I thank her with my eyes. Her smirk begs me to cut in and dance with her but I decline for I  have found a new love in my life. I have found life’s younger sister, Dream.

 

Omega B

I open my heart to the page and let the feelings of my bleeding heart pour out. O.K. that’s a good start, now to find some feelings. I tap my pen unknowingly creating the beat for this. My overture is short and sweet as I look around my house while searching my head for those infamous feelings. I find them all over but the feeling of you is of a larger font and shadows the others with its bold face. I focus on the first letter as it dances around in my mind. I begin to sweat as I realize the swarm of B’s that are buzzing around inside of me. My body tingles as your eyes perform acupuncture by stinging my nerves from the inside out. My hands are still trembling for I am allergic to B’s poor Thomas J. My blood turns to honey as your colony works overtime on my thoughts. I become sluggish as you sweeten my blood. My heart slows as it gets if first taste of your sugar. I lick my lips as my thoughts carry mine towards yours. I Blow on your neck and watch the goose bumps travel down your spine. I breathe in slowly as my finger tips draw a road down your arm. I watch the bumps travel as I retrace my steps back to your neck. I yield at your eyes and look both ways before crossing to your other arm. I listen to your breathing for it helps calm my nerves. I sign my name on your stomach with my index finger. I paint pictures on your back with scribbles that contain hidden messages. I erase them with my palms and continue writing sweet nothings on your skin. I read your goose bumps as brail. I close my eyes and fall deeply into your love story. I listen to the subtle sound of my fingers on your back tell fairy tales. I open my eyes as I hear you begin to snore. I watch you burry your head with your hair and begin to laugh into the pillow. I try to roll you over as you start a game of it. I try all of my moves but you stay contently fixed smiling into the pillow. I frizz your hair, I kiss your neck, I whisper in your ear “ shhh! Whisper! Pass it on!”  I kiss your hands and your lower back. I make stupid comments as you tease me by hiding your smile. I exhaust all of my moves and start towards the remote that is perfectly placed by the backs of your knees. I turn the T.V. on and tickle play on the back of your knees. You spin around faster than the fuzz on T.V. I watch your vulnerable smile fall in love with me again. I hear the white noise crescendo as I fall deeper into your eyes. Your buzzing B’s have returned. I tickle your neck as you tickle my heart. I blow raspberries on your stomach as the French vanilla ice cream softens on the counter. I make you laugh so hard that you begin to cry. I pull the bandana off of my head and dry your tears. I let a drop run across your check and kiss it as it begins to fall. I linger in flavor country as you pull an eyelash from my lips. You hold it for me and seductively say. “Make a Wish!”  I watch the sky light up as my wish is granted. I look to my newly formed star and name it Omega B! I kiss you and whisper “I love you.”I kiss you again! I run my hand through my hair for I have become overwhelmed. You turn me around and begin to write stories for the blind hearted on my back. I watch your reflection in the dark T.V. I love watching you at 3:00 A.M. I let your hands uncoil my spider web of feelings and fill them with honey combs of B.