If Only In The Mind…

Purifier, open flames and binded sage in a space that feels claustrophobic,
Scholastic rays orchestrated to the waves belonging to spectrum of emotions
Interplay the way we intrepid vivid and vague, gentle haze bathed in Van Gogh circles
Circus from a current and some circuits, absurdity even the mundaneness of moments
Before we’re frozen and framed in a fit of rage, “control+alt+delete” to blissful Sonoma

Like an array of quartz crystals in a waltzing motion, illuminate for mental focus
Light in stark darkness, a walking aurora borealis throughout caverns of the broken
Carnal convulsions from the misdirect of base urges, lost amidst a wilderness of fossils
Atop the chakra channels— building blocks, nations rise and fall by the twist we model
If only in the mind we exist, perhaps the idea persists beyond matters and ivory walls
©2019 loose.leaf.lover

Isolation’s A Shining Ray

I’m nothing but a shade to every tear to stream down your face and find its way falling towards a better place

Greener pastures surrounding a crystal lake, an embrace’s warmth like a cloudless day filled with divine rays

Head in a different space, an adornment of happiness wrapped up as if shawls of azure a testament to endurance

While I continue on this continuum of blurs of grey until pitch black veils line my final fate, a spectre and weary stray

Clutching on to the wisp of a thought before I had a chance to break, “never invite in others to shambles for untold dates”

The lines designed intertwine, forming the rope that binds on my final plight in life straight back to the divine

Interspliced with reels like grape filled vines, may my downs be a few seconds with a story ages old in a spacious vault of time

To be uncorked later on, to indulge chilled amidst the embers of twilight that shine, hopefully with blossoms of a lovely kind

Journal entries on journeys of intrigue, fit myself back together through stitched pages, brick and mortar coverings

In a bid to be immortal, fill myself with crucifix steel curtains cross sections of girders that uphold moral away from yores
©2020 loose.leaf.lover

Sweet Divinity


More fire and lightning

Bled ashen colored skies

The cauldron is of our liking

Fueled from our very arms


Smores of rations, yore yearnings

With our radioactive campfire song

Infertile soil and everything​ neighboring

A thousand or maybe more horrors unsung


The true court of the sun comes with sleep

And I’m up with the living dead​ in an azure one

The illusion in the guise of the truth— cheap

When, regrettably​, what we loved is not enough


When you realize violins are a marionette’s string

Ill winds blow deeds through their weave of dusk

And staring up to the beams causes migraines

A twist, a tryst of tyranny in ill-gotten divinity clutched

©2017 loose.leaf.lover

Daze Of Static

Harmony into dissonance, the organ pipes rust and the choirs turn to dust, and the resulting phantoms haunt

But between fragrant winds aloft bouquets waft, with their fragments of regrets slitter in thorns like serpents hunt

Coiled around a myriad of rippened fruit and open rose buds, everything beckons to you for a simple innocent touch

Even its scales shone with a sheen prismatic amidst a sea of yellow sapphire, just a ear to the phantom opera’s note

A fall from grace, as easy as a nibble upon the nape of delight and being filled with a forbidden curse—a poisonous hold

Collectively, we torch our edenic abode down to the barren bones and take its broken bones and fashion ourselves new homes

Design new choirs in veils of metal to go along with the debris of us, the resound horrors heralded in with the splitting of atoms

The dancing of shadows forever etched on walkways or remnants of the civil, the unsheathing of our man-made flamberge

Nothing gold can stay as we emerge from flora bossom and construct a new normal, left teetering in twilight and nocturnal our world

What acts can we mold that’ll absolve us of what’s already done, stained with the ichor of our beloveth mother earth
©2020 loose.leaf.lover

Of Men & Gods

They tell tales of the mighty coming forth from meek upbringings, draped in a garnishment of roses with a garland of victory made posthaste
All in adoration in such lovely cadences, before them a lion walks in bejeweled radiance bathed by their sight’s irises, they sing such praise
Sacrificial lamb being lead to another man’s slaughter for the gasps of a eternal’s breathing, how steep the price is just to glimpse love’s kiss
After giving limb and one’s own equilibrium seemingly for fostering of lasting peace, it is merely cheapened when uttered from bureaucratic lips
The betrayal after decades of not feeling whole after the showering of gold’s stead, to die in a squalored hole to some obscure form for decadence

We speak of forever as if some far flung fantasy had bloomed, not fully comprehending just how long such a endeavor could consume
A lifetime beyond the shelter of a womb filled with many moons, beyond the first sparks of the beginnings of a star, beyond page’s conclude
Up from cobblestones into the towering tombs’ canopy we view, the skyscrapers penetrate a horizon juxtaposed as black bleeds and colours swoon
Langston Hughes in a grip of blues, I swiftly jot down a few to flourish the inner to tubes, a flicker of pure voodoo like unwrapping a brick of coca stewed
In the dark astrew across a mirror topped like the roof of a wraith, we berate pieces of ourselves with razor tongue dissecting and scraping up revenue

Fastened to the appeal of crowns fashioned from carats and karats, all the world is a pale comparison to the brilliance from a holy larynx
Up from out of the material like breaking from shackles of gilded steel meant to sap the strength through coiling links, for freedom to think
The lyrics woven appear ethereally gifted in graffiti vectors blossoming forth from incorporeal fringes, the reality-warper of alchemists
This quill to the well’s depth, a treasure-trove in triple black hauled back, verses sits twisted on the breeze of a aerosol’s melodic staff
Cajun seasoning in the flesh, magnolia blooms from each breath, and a rose with skull and crossbone promissory left on my lower back

Throughout fingers twisting and intertwined, through gang signs to mudras with the path being shrouded in indifference’s fog
Clear my obstacles if I can imbibe prana with the grasps of heaven’s design, shunya before my eyes bathed in a azure beyond
Lose myself to celestial mist after being in a abyss of ceaseless screams of anxiety and battle lines, from coin to colored shrines
The yoked apparatus not your own, something that has been given before we were born, through scorn and fear we endure time
Slight of hand in a fun house mirror, every angle is a angle meant to be worked fine

©2021 loose.leaf.lover

The Serpentine Form

When you loathe the feel of plastic, is it real or is it actually the fervor your after?

A rogue touch of sensuality, brain melting under a sprawl of lighting—reality altered

Not to exactness, but a mutation fancifully melding together ghastly amalgamations

All for the mounting jubilations deeper than a star littered ocean’s sudden motivation

Without any indication, vacantly starting into spaces the mind can only semi perceive

Semiprecious stones like the ones worn on a crown, fractured fractals of a rose tinted eve

This world in its haziness, cozy and warm enough for you to believe—addiction increase

To deify or demonize doesn’t really matter, what’s at heart that has you trying to grasp it

Distilled and poured in a flask, roots of lightning it flashes, don’t go down to your casket

You would think this is in smoke, or powder or even in the majestic mirrors you’ve clinged

But it is something that lies beneath, everything else is a neon sign that stalks the streets

To hold you, will it crumble into a decay from decades degrading into a weird shape?

The word sphinx kills those answering dishonestly, is it for vanity or modesty we crave?
©2019 loose.leaf.lover

Artwork by Cassandra Jean

In A Shade Of Typhon

Fashion monsters from underneath my fingers, palm and arm, my touch permeates even through word whether love or scars
Lungs filled with psalms and myriad notes from my cologne, laid the sweetest rapture before armageddon befalls this love of ours
Warm blissful kisses, a send off to a blistering abyss after a thousand misses; writhing within a heat of citrus, mint and poison
Smeared mascaras, eyes full of stormy weather, and I’m just here at the epicenter half buried in all of these torn love letters
Karma’ll dig me up and drag me over broken hearts as sharp as metal, though mental the feel is physical down to the marrow

“Kiss me, I’m the monster that you’ve made me”, from a voice frankensteined together in angelic and demonic choirs

Though I carry on shrapnel with these war wounds festering beyond the visible spectrum, I’ve given way worse to her
I’ve spread a hurt that’s as dark as false hope or thinking stars aligned when they’re glimmers off a cleaver fresh off a slaughter
Through the threshold of irises of lightning and brimstone, I commit myself to these voided pupils like a knowledgeable teacher
Please do not become a shadow to a shade darker, and where I am a colour out of space do not outline my trial and errors
May my departure into spiraling unknowns bring closure, I have always wandered a fool dogged in my wayward efforts
©2020 loose.leaf.lover

The Presence Of Greatness

To the victor goes the spoils, and every orifice is just filled with this champagne glow poured over the top until it overflows

Mere moments before the supernova behind a cork’s pop could be beheld by an audience’s stare, we struggled from our lows

A pair of blood stained hands with clutching fingers, locking around the edge of a ornate wreath all golden and full of shimmers

It just means much more to walk through hallowed halls a pair of triumphant figures, when the scales before us was all tremors

Everything was once uncertain and nebulous here, no greater accolades can ever sate my gaze more so than that reflection of yours

“It just means much more….”

I’ve thrown away their symbols and assigned my own, one’s of a fire that burns eternal accented with the grace of magnolias

The blood that courses my veins in itself a marathon, it carries on a will on to the next scion the wreath newly buds before us all

Upon the shine of the crowned morning star, the ripened pearl softly glittering just through the vista of a slightly parted shell

No tell from secondhand lips can ever truly capture this tale, the grim and the grime that clings deeper past our cells to the soul

Though noble adorned it is by pauper hands that crafted ever intricacy of a bay leaf sole, from our collective breaths a lion’s roar

And so I carry them with me through rising tides and cascades of fallen stars, my lone deities residing from the dais of core
©2020 loose.leaf.lover

Kingdom Of Despair

From the mounting pressure the world will bring, to the endurance level you’ve harnessed within your brain

It’s a unsung generational theme where we pass the squared shoulders and stiff upper lip onwards to our seeds

To show or have the slightest moment of emotion is forbade, only birthed by a forge—steel beams throughout frame

Only a workhand toiling the soil for each grain, simply plot hard and add up enough to eventually make and break bread

Naked before the probing fingers and judging eyes embodied within words said, until you feel just as a corpse next to your trade

Twenty-four hours out the day to focus on loads on top of loads and the pressure that molds or breaks and drives you insane

Seesawing between reality and beautiful lies weaved, breaking through the seams pass the veil of the life you married—no play thing

The bitterness is enough for you not to see a genuine human being, but yet another metamorphosis that looks to cause more pain

All these smiles feel billboard fake, but the brilliance is only a camouflage from the wasteland prolonged by what we hide in shame

Can it be so hard to realize how easy the prospects of suicide would be for lives, when we neglect the person only for the prizes they bring?

A coin purse or a bag chase on the scales along side your mental health, swaying violently back and forward until it all just breaks
©2019 loose.leaf.lover

Bold As Love

Open flames to me, the beckoning of such melodic softness draped, is your tongue velvet before a exhibit piece?

Let me into your world, reframe the refrain of my name hanging midst celestial mist from these lips’ shimmering peak

So enamored with the thought of you, I’m lost between spaces you leave and actuality in weaves of brass and strings

Whether fantasy or reality, let me keep this moment in memories, the many syllables curved and grooves speak

Binded to a current from a cosm you’ve stirred in a hidden ocean from view, inscribed in marble timeless rhapsody

Bold as a love all claded in a shade of claret, silhouetted jewel in tow with a branching scent of magnolias fully bloomed

In iridescent irises, magic eyes a precious agate for my own, the shape she takes in fabric and hues so dizzying smooth

Her movement musical, and I’m so lost in a embraced that holds whole worlds and stars aloft in a serenade of truth

And you can say that I’m rambling while being strung along, but I orbit every spark that sees the cogs in the cosmos in tune

Hung up on every beam that adds stars to the precious and cause cold to gleam, a warmth goes before a touch can singe naive youth

©2020 loose.leaf.lover