Kiss It Quick And Rise Again Or Charity

There are rains that stain the landscape in myriad greys, pains that’ll change you beyond the creasing of paper cranes

Wishes that’ll never be others gaze no matter how many origami raised, nothing materializes if not left of the brain

I write mournful croonings dipped in hexagonals as if cooke in a soulful age, with the passion of a passing ray that ends the day

Somewhere between mystic angles a angel beams, singing a rhapsody of rapture upon ethereal wings that serenity gains

Where do I lay her wreath when she’s hard to reach today, nothing seems real but the void’s bittersweet fruit of nightshade

And it’s so hard to believe that there’ll be a day without you to say, that things’ll get better in a earnest and optimistic way

And I’m struck low, laid bare to a deep mourning, feeling the tugging of blues in a torrent of ink every syllable bleeding anew

And to know such a day without you to adorn its form, how cruel it can all be not to see you in its make and weave

They’ve stolen yet another sacred ray from me, may as well have been the cerulean and gold of these coming days entirely

This is all make-believe, and if I can just close my eyes and ears just long enough to steel my mind, you’ll reply to me

To lay the soul low with the tolling of bells over a symphony of regretful unspokens, the coffin nails my lips to pale choking

Writer’s block in lost like a beloved jewel somewhere in distant marshes, I can’t see beyond the veil but I’ll settle for star-filled ocean
©2020 loose.leaf.lover

Lips Of Eberus

I’m with the deepness that night brings, the autumn breeze that whispers softly through the leave’s sweet nothings
The bolt with chills from electricity’s pleasure, indulging our lotuses opium, waltzing to orbits on wisps of eternity
With the wiles of a seasoned devil who wears slight the luner’s silver, whom carries its crescent and lead tips in quiver
I aim to consume all with desire loosened from a sling, inhaling all of the fallout that it would breathe and shiver
In the dying of august’s heat, into embers held by the stillness of december, we’ll rest inside of erebus’ shadow

I offer pilgrimages to the xannyfied, roused the spirits of the un-alived, imbibe a jubilation near suicide
With deadly silence spreading like a pride of lionesses in a nighttime creep, my reach seizes in reality’s nod
A ebony god with a bod of gold leaf, this is me in relief and release, a nebulous arch from champagne streams
The precious sleep yearned deeply in a sleepless wish, with the toxic intimacy embodying a serpent’s teeth
My presence goes apparelled in the silk of promethazine, I’m the fibers of every dream yet to be dreamed

I know this isn’t something that one should read, but a substance of being, the print upon nothingness’ easel
A simple touch, and I’m filling every absence that’s every been wept in the embrace of the coldest evil
My cruelty is the preying coil behind dewed petals, in maw nexuses bordering on peace just before chaos
I’m trying to call to you ladled away in the crux of a chamomile shovel, the effervescence’s seance
Away waxen wings to the light that sol bleeds, in a rapture souls streak, to flare out upon the lips of eberus

©2021 loose.leaf.lover

The Flower That Hides The Serpent

I can endure this vacancy, nestle these little pinpricks of reality through a dark veil hung over a vale of my mind

To see starry nights through asylum holds or form slowly blurring at the border’s edge of this van gogh of mine

This loneliness creeps so unfaithfully at times, the only fidelity is that it’ll arrive later on with a bouquet and some lies

So bad, that I have jewels for eyes, a sad sapphire eternally locked in a shade of a blue picasso wet with sullied life

Overly ripe meat of the fruit teeming with the seed sprouts starving for light, from the scene of a memento mori’s site

I’m going through some times…

These matters that strike me in the heart—a viper lurking in the dark—a forever poison of lovely words in parting

The last glimmers of sun soaked moments before being tangled in a forked tongue and devoured, to downwards spirals

This depression slithers, coiling around and underneath all the things you might find alluring like a blood diamond

The flower that hides the serpent underneath in silence, a ready smile overflowing with a curse of thunderless lightning

In a cordless serenade of the visual plane through the cursive curvings of moods I convey, slithers other of my likeness

I’m going through some times…

I prick my finger and press until the meld is done, if I’m falsely then a thousand needles promptly pierce through all that I see

These weighted words cleave through as if claymores of dusk clearing the azure from eyes, embers of a illusionary eternity

Into my veins like bayou muck and mire this brimstone and hellfire seize, and I am preaching to the choir’s of inequity

On the very verge of sanity’s hem, twisting with the electric hymns of a primordial place beyond this guise of love and safety

Find me the soils that nurture nature and upholds every foundation man has gleaned in dreams color of obsidian, comfort me

©2020 loose.leaf.lover

To Feel the Lov</3

Vertigo sunshine, that scary high of uncertainty, but you want to know just how close you could be
Nurtured or singed, balance between borders becomes blurry, all becomes blinding in a rapture of wings
The velvet of the deeply, a elegance few know how to speak, that red carpet could roll out for me to greet
Silver and a forked tongue become intertwined in the wants of lovers we meet, heaven’s cadence into syllable
I’m trying to see exactly where you are, through the surface down to the core, the “om’s” of what could be spiritual

The moment I phase through the surface, I become a panthom obsessed with every orchestration of a miracle
The sensation of feeling again stirs me from the fringes of a human’s cold, fears and sorrows thaw to tranquil calm
Of vivid colours, capturing and condensing in electric chords the ocean current of california in waves most beautiful
When the thought of me transcends matters of the world, maybe call me sometimes in breezes through the palms
The passion begetting possession is only possible when you believe wholeheartedly, the untethering into poems

The sewing of flesh through blood bonds, I pricked a finger in the name of a offer much greater than my own
The sacredness of strange scriptures forever tatted upon my arms, I remember the hellishness accompanying lungs
The myriad rituals held in the merging of lips, the instance glimpsed of dawn turning twilight in the eyes of hazel
In the form of a angel grasping the jewels of the night, my heart falls with the stars and their whole orbitals for her
But because there’s all this flora and fauna forming, doesn’t mean paradise is without the wickedness of serpents


©2021 loose.leaf.lover

The Longing Truth

And the stars signal to my unconscious state, yet the warmth fades to frigid space in pursuit of truth
The pit of fruit, the nectar’s juice, to the brim of a vessel as transparent as new experience underneath sky blue
The curves of the groove soul stirring in the glamor of moods, the dizzing doves of euphoria I want to abuse
Eternity personified in human yearning, the wanting to understand the sensation of you beyond a arching hand
Knowing you before the briars built up from those conspiring to harm and usurp, I offer the blood for you to choose

They just want the docile decor rather than something they have to work for, and I grew up poor lusting for more
That little beige boy yearning to fill every page with scores, like being in a maze of thoughts wanton and boorish
With the nooks and crannies melodic and calm, this rhythm of time gets lost in the intoxicating high of a smile
With the deep secrecy of a coven in a diary’s bounded leather shrine, I’m trying to formulate days with letters pined
Through every single letter’s cursive curve, the world slowly moves into hughes the tranquil cerulean of pen strives

What goes after pride denotes the levels I’m willing to fall, to the core with bale rime I’m trying to epitomize a numb
Dissipating into a union with one and every fallen, but to hold rose buds through the gaps and grasp my fingers form
The singular joy of you, the ecstasy of “good and bad” and a lushness that comes from the rough housing gentle ferns
Because I’m willing to forego places of illumination, if I could drink from the rejuvenating rivers of your dimpled smile
The energy coursing through your every thought, I wish to be struck or held aloft by it, just to know their orders sacred hold

©2021 loose.leaf.lover

Throughout Heaven and Earth, I Alone…

Amidst the torrent of stares, I’m swept up in the emotions once held prisoner inside of there
The fragility to be handled with care, mistakes to be greeted with the jaggedness of tears
Even inside of gentle rays housed in azure days, lurking behind golden hexagonals is denial’s trace
The curses I breathe and exhale—fate; the emptiness it’ll leave in eros bow’s quiver and quake
The ills manifested over years spent wandering the wilderness of concrete’s tiers, a date I stress?

The evils, they lurk in glam and glimmers, the ornate patterns of a turquoise colored snake jaws agape
They rape and pillage, the old school opioid dealers with cargos of illness, in every den dwelled spirits of escape
The shape of damnation comes with a wetness that permeates heaven’s limits that intertwined limbs creates
The more and more I sink and drown in a voluptuous bourbon brown, with every passing day thee more I ache
My little blossom shade of heroin via fields deep ellum, a brief euphoria I try to scribble of you ’til it circulates

This scent of you—a frenze for sure, these wisps of chanel trails my temple like incenses in hieroglyphics aired
The mystical and ethereal chimes, lost amidst the quivering climbs of lushness reclined and clouds of ganja layered
In the hour glass of eternity, I’m probing every jeweled grain, seeking dews of rejuvenation distilled over the momentary
In this life, I’m drowning in hypocrisy and opulence, the constant shattering of innocence or ignorance generationally
These sensations of peace rouses me from waking, I’m in a presence melatonin and ebony like morpheus and the matrix

©2021 loose.leaf.lover

We’re Each And All This Fallen

And I am him whose horns grew inverted, that entangled our tales forever in an affair interwoven beyond paradisical orchards

The blight that slithered pass omniscient’s stares and poisoned the harvest, that withered the vines on her posts due an audience

She takes shape underneath the schisms into chasms nightmarish, illuminated with the hellish of long ago a being of cruel truth

I’ve made her mouth a cacophony of worldly bitterness, a cornucopia of sour fruit through raged snarls and gnashing tooth

What I spawn is a crimson dawn as deep as the colour of love and roses nestled next to a blushing cheek, housing a warful tongue

She’ll cradle me to her heart like a orphaned child, yet I the guile to possess a grenade upon reaching a sanctuary of embracing arms

And even though I am not the one that has wrought such irons as grave as pain, you’ll see the aforementioned as done in my name

Engraved into everything, from bricks affixed in mortar, to bars and fences stretching beyond your flesh with these borders made

You’ll guard until there’s nothing left but you and a spectre you used to be with, in the darkness becoming a vigilant cerberus

Nothing escapes your eyes of fire and vengeance, and even though my songs are of love you hate each bard that came before a “us”

I am not at war with anyone, for I know the depths which runneth each poisonous note weaving the winds to mental vales just below

I’ve held heaven, and too, felt it go up in smoke with the falling of stars and the discarding of celestials to narcissistic voids drove
©2020 loose.leaf.lover

Through A 3am



I embark on dark roads barred by crossbones, through the living night of the soul
Where the beauty of a open rose has surely closed, and darts wolves in frigid cold
This is the time we run from, reform when everything seems shaken and disjointed
When everything is close to being broken, torn asunder seals beget grim horseman
No matter the polished current soaked in, or torrents of spirit engrossing glimmer sin

The spell—we fall right under, fail to recognize the longer we wander the desert dim

All men eventually pay the ferryman before shuffling off mortal coils for foreign shores
Nobody knowing the full scope or the arrival point in which fate dresses in funeral garbs
The date which none shall show up fashionably late for, but punctually staunch with her
And pray the glory of your name last longer than the tender amassed behind a vault door
Because the world spins and it’s people soon forget these grains settled to its bottom floor

The spell—we fall right under, fail to recognize the longer we wander the desert dim

Metamorphosis beheld in shapes sacred geometry, arms unfold with blossoming mudras
Emerge a bodhisattva in aesthetics fractal, the sun peaking from lotus folds through all
The divine fool soon unwraps a azure mood from the carried knapsack, theme universal
The bejeweled watcher, whose eyes shone with the brilliance of a multitude of star falls
Only through the night can we hope to find a dawn that relieves our troubles and doubt
©2020 loose.leaf.lover

A Stigma Of Finer Things

Velvet or the white glove treatment, in pockets on that smooth criminal tip
On a future haul of prospects, you didn’t invest in, but always mining gold off others success
To even utter the words “God blessed” is rather ridiculous of a hypocrite
But, thanks for acknowledging the God that I am ever since, in every sense
I am not amongst those God complexes, but fully of heritage nothing of arrogance
Opulence have I in the spiritual aspect, while it’s popular to just “in trust” elegance
Money can’t buy you this; money can’t pardon the acts of ungratefulness
Every fuckin thing that I own, that you covet, has come at a devastating toll in losses
But, you’re still able to hold your loved ones; the legacy lives on, greatest treasure of all
Besides this Messiah-esque affinity of saving, I am not the captain for whores,
Nor hoarders, nor free loaders, nor anyone’s destined course
“I AM”…and what follows is a never ending story spanning from nothingness
Casa de la SoL, where every moment good or bad is bathed in rays golden
The color filled tribe is the pantheon for the pride of lions and lionesses
So, I can overstand as one of them how divinity was lost for many, disenfranchised
Brainwashed and fuckery go hand and hand, especially if you’re not aware of the lies
Had friends, but that was a circle built in sand unprotected by the shifts of time
Once a glorious castle, now fallen from the sky as soon as another dream dies
It seems a desert wasteland await me now at the bottom of my hourglass’ pile
My resolve is to stay away from all that stress; escape this midnight mess of doubt
But, we all in our feelings for misfortune solely sown of our own accord?
So, where do I come in as the sneak reaper to all this past prosperity gone?
Had I known mentally you hadn’t grown, I would’ve said a resounding no
And because I possess a scepter and some jewels of crown
Doesn’t mean it’s a free-for-all brawl to further put me as a man down
That’s the difference between rulers and clowns, the wise and the imbeciles
Either you’re a irresistible empress, realistic about her shortcomings and accomplishments
Or you’re the rank and file circus performer for a social three ring of entertainment
Now does that sound familiar, the persecution and burning after the witch trial?
That nice guy role has run it’s course like the myths of chivalry and courtship

©2014 loose.leaf.lover

Edge Of The Earth

Steady with the rhythm of shifting scales, the glimmering of “thou shalt” in every coil and serpent’s stare
All held within a fisheye lens in the maw of a mind lionized, loads from the mounts of a midnight caravan
They wanted to see me as a child still, but the frame can’t encompass all of this growth shaping what I am
The agelessness, a gift hard won in trial by fire, a spectrum in sheets are gleams of firework chrysanthemum
I work it until the mantras are anthems, the affirmations are flesh and blood destinations brought on by my own

When love withers up into a bouquet of dead roses, let it be as potpourri upon this pyre of old me towards higher
Retire from this choir of earthly attire, cross out stars that try to strike at me for reaching pass them for fire
From the valleys housing death’s shadow, I walked off underneath cold scythes for sight beyond carrying iron
Burning babylon all around me inciting more of the raze to follow, the evils that dwell beyond the almighty dollar
The apex of power and the jewel encrusted, the countless wastelands spawned from our own self inflicted traumas

I’ve been sifted through in lenses of indifference, the definition of set piece shifting around your image
In a strange origami’s scrimmage, my life’s a contortionist of fodder the longer I past through twilight’s limits
These shimmers of gold emboldened within a hold from a litany of halos, but I wear mines shoulder length
The downwards spiral into chasms unearth again, the scars of which becomes bars from which I may never leave
This internal monologue swirling amidst the night and a lit cigarette, the peak of yet another low goes before me

Chrysanthemums are rising, brightening nights on the horizon
What fires steer hearts towards thriving in faceted diamonds
Prismatic light waltzes across these crystalized planes of ours
What worlds pearls on the tip of your tongue, the dew of life
Lost within slips in time, misplaced the contents of my mind
The streams of consciousness bogged down by this heart of mine

©2021 loose.leaf.lover