Drugs Are Us


The most addictive drug, I embraced and held a fiery furnace within my arms

The loaded revolver with one in the chamber, wore chanel and flavor plum

The depths of winter, in a cove with withdrawals burning pictures and poems

Over head a pitying turns to unkindness, my thoughts winged with a cruelty to return

I never slept on a bed of nails nor crossed coals of hot fire, but I bedded lies and know the hell of silence

The wasteland we conjure forth when we part heaven and earth, I’m knowledgeable of every breathless moment

The fading of halos and tearing of wings, the pride unwavering with wars we commence

I guess the only thing that will bring this to an end is a visit from the four horsemen and the apocalypse

Powered by your own spirit, this prolonged period of promiscuous delirium and corporal imprisonment

Suit and tie slaver, savoring the passion while forsaking warning labels and laboring towards the abyss

What is happiness without that warm kiss, a spiraling tongue and unholstered language compounded ’til esteem diminishes

©2017 loose.leaf.lover

A Star Is Born



Burdens to shoulder asymmetrical, shifting of the scales got my heart heavy

Bayou blues where the spires see a statuesque presence, the gilder of heaven

Raphael on the Sistine liken loose leaf with the quill and ink, mural memoirs magnifique

The pages possessive, each stroke dragging love from the catacombs back into vividness

Glimpses of madness in trying to make sense where the structural support has finally given

All those pedestal where load bearing too, now the abyss is littered with you for me

Woman crafted like Venus de Milo, but only a marble to marvel in my wound’s gallery

A piece of you my eyes forever hold, between blurs birthed by the luminous and murky

The act alone has been seared into memory, the treachery of stars when hope they extinguish

And from that sprawling madness eventually a sense of self emerges, the gospel in the flesh

©2017 loose.leaf.lover

Burdensome Me



I am a bunch of fallen stars, a false dawn on a day newly born

All your prayers seemingly answered, before occurs the ill omens

Grasping roses whose gilding morphed into expressions twisted thorns

A jubilant jamboree where the banquet is filled with taint and poisons

I am

I am

The best lover before finding a crater of a carnivore filled with fallen doe

A heavenly song sung during intervals of the harshest devil’s chord

A dove with an olive branch in the eye of a storm of eagles

Love with all its light and luster passing on into murky ethers

©2017 loose.leaf.lover

L’appel du vide


The madness we commence with a passion we commit, all for bliss

Ritualistic nonsense, lend a gallery of meaning to all pieces of brokenness

Mending is a art, kintsugi, fill the newly meaningless with fond goldens

Searching the heavens for a perfect blue, illusions unfold and blooms foreboding

Normalize these raging storms underneath a perfect azure shown, a piercing blue

My luminary in dainty form, melodic with every word, she’s a wisp of abysmal truth

A songbird nestled up to lobes of subconsciousness, siphoning off kindly warmth

My pulse echoing every hurt, a symphony in moods blossoming from old and aching wounds

And I’m just exhausted, even amidst a stellar oasis there’s still a stark black serpent

Coiling around serenity with hisses of discomfort, anticipating venomous choruses

Discord from every discourse, my source of pain is a flamed sword forged in voices

My brain is the sheath that I can’t keep unholstered, my being is being poisoned

And this is literally day and night’s portrait, literally her in every cursive and poetic orifice

Barrel at my temple seeking expulsion, but only forwards a maddening medley of roses

It all seems a cruel joke fashioned out of the priceless but poorly made, don’t we all go a doting

Isn’t she gorgeous? My anthropomorphic void masquerading around as the wild blue yonder


Or is she, Birdie?

©2017 loose.leaf.lover

Starstruck

They do not deserve a word, to behold beauty in cursive curves

Double helices on cotton swabs​, a figure you can’t​ camouflage

Tranquil or tumultuous, oceanic triple darkness—our sweet abode

What I leave behind in mortal coils, are golden ratios for a verse

Frankincense and myrrh, the fragrance before the blur—momentary hors d’oeuvre

A satiny of maple, thin veneer atop her; the main course beckons in lacy letterings ’til climatic dessert

All are hands seeking comforts, fingers dancing in anticipation and palms starved banquets

A vividness of cornucopia; a eutopia we’re not worthy of— euphorias, so underseving 

Ply the express to the craft: masonry of mind, body and soul

This brick and mortar mold borders​, temple reveries in living color

Roses blossom from buds, the thorny and the dew of this amore

Better treat her right when the time is ripe, or wallow in clink’s ‘morrow

©2017 loose.leaf.lover

Just To Know You’re Alive



There’s a storm in human form silently pondering ​amidst a gathering of ferns sprawling across walls

Lightning’s ire a moving tongue, the thundering trumpet blown from a pair of lungs rattles the blinds

How simple it all would be if I never would have been, but all is a pen where pencil ends can’t breach

And we’re sheets where the stigmas run deep, driven in hard enough to puncture but never to grant peace

Dwelling on in places not known to the sun, my name falls from your lips and I’ve come undone

It’s felt like an eternity in an abyss since it has been spoken aloud, given the warmth from a nurturer’s own

And all that could shine and hold luster, eventually will find themselves questioning what makes them special

When seemingly small matters could arise larger to capsize them​, even in the heavens lurks waves and even icebergs

There’s no one that I know untarnished, we’re all leaving a novel’s worth decaying unpublished

My body of ebony adorns the whitest of lilies in the crudest of melodies, death through its phases

©2017 loose.leaf.lover

Beloveth & My Wayward



Splashes coke vanilla,

Butterscotch into Daniels

Galaxies in a mason jar swirl

Chilled between my fingers


From your larynx, sounds melodic;

A music box in clockworks of metal

Teeth plucked across the middle,

The heartstrings’​ velvet slumber


From earbuds blossoms

Your fervor in midnight hued floral 

So many tears bled in color,

A world rendered in watercolors


Such childish fears, my beloveth

What will finally become of us?

When continents sit between us?

Imagine our earth without its heavens

©2017 loose.leaf.lover

Gobbledigook

Who was it that tore your wings, that set a sun before its day was viewed?

Clasping at arms for clemency, but dashed across eternity for a debuted

And with that same creative finger, figured a lesser individual in your stead—weren’t you wed?

Who stole the rays from your tress, plucked a string from your melodic strands?

Palmed fellow halos out of existence and left you frigid—a delicate sixfold symmetry

A gilding of blue in intricate crystals, how many years in tears have spilt uneventful in misery?

Were you only a conquest in this mesh manifested, a mistress in a mess across his mattress?

You were beautiful as long as you sung only of his praises, but being opinionated made him feel placid?

Every moment of the beginning passes through you and settles unrefined, hourglass now in flesh and blood

Is it a curse to remember and toil amongst structures featuring his face on everything and everyone?

How does one cope with the knowledge that they were first, amongst the first genuine thoughts to ever be word?

What gets said now must seem a bad joke, that the man you once loved has lost his magic and speaks only duds

©2017 loose.leaf.lover

Sunday Services

From late nights at the kitchen table,

Trying to get down basic arithmetic

With a visiting aunt over on clover street


From my first fight lost, to overcoming shit

My mother taught me lightning and steel

And transitioning from a fist to solid wit


Conversations into constellations

Wisdom beheld in the lap of a rocking chair

My grandmother spirit concentrated


Losing and gaining loves

Crumbling and rebuilding strength

Lessons learned while traveling on


I’ll be a star no matter who orbits

Fires live on to spark another’s course

I know worlds in words dark and silent


Who can best me with all that I have?

Or truly measure my existence with mere glimpses?

The sun in a chariot of clouds

©2017 loose.leaf.lover

Kisses Crimson

Warms all of your days from miles away

Battles waged unbeknownst to a single gaze

Where heaven’s a kaleidoscopic paradise

Of the broken and colorful—my mosaic of loneliness

You can’t tell me of dark days​ from azure havens

Of true euphoria while silently siphoning off another’s

Of jubilant songbirds when you’re the prison cage ivory

Of glorious summer and spring, when you’re the winter and autumn

All of my ways have been gilded in flames sovereign

Knowing pain as the sunlight has been wringed from my veins

In the bowels of night, always an afterthought until darkness overstays

Don’t say “I love you” if you don’t possess the fortitude to win the day

Haggard and old to elated and youthful, dawn into dusk and replay

Faces of sun shone from up above, but with these perils attention unpaid

Losing myself to renegade thoughts, how the thoughtlessness of bliss I envy

I am eclipsed only by small quips and glimpses, kissed by crimson madness

©2017 loose.leaf.lover