The the

Red robin, Red robin

you are so lovely with your

violent red blushing breast,

sharp and pointed

eyes that, gleamed like

metal in the sun reflecting

off morning dew.

Standing proudly with

your vivacious red chest

radiating. Perched with

pride on a branch outside

my windowpane as if

saying look at me world!

Look at me while I stand

and extol trills of good mornings.

O! sweet Red Robin

while you did look

brilliant you appear

so much more alive

through the scope of

my Beretta 92FS BB

gun, at 4:49 a.m.

seconds before I

pulled the

trigger. 

Birds (2nd draft)

For the Unknown Poet

The canaries,
stretched yellow wings
over the suns eyes.

Allowing her to danced,
hidden under the
shadows of the soft wings.

She was always bright
but never seen.
Always bright but never seen.
Always bright but never seen.

3 days of sleep

it rained friday and again sunday. maybe it happened saturday but i was too unaware of anything to notice something as lovely as the rain saturday. too far inside my mind. too tired or plain ole didnt care.

i wondered and thought about a lot of colors, instincts, and behaviors as i often do when i shut myself away from the world.

most suicides occur in the spring. the month of may has been noted for its high rate of suicide. mayday approaches. maybe its because i am such a romantic that i thought the best month to take ones life would be february

not that i think about suicide often. call it my guarded secret obsession with the idea of death. which apparently isnt that much of a secret. death, creation, purpose and those are just the things i find fascinating.

captivating is a whole new list that includes birds, change, clouds and time. i can go on and on but lets continue.

the clouds have been beautiful lately and i feel as though i am the only one to notice. it rains more in the city than any place else and contrary to popular beliefs is very quiet. only because you grow to have selective hearing. and that i believe is the only reason i can sleep with the window open for 3 days straight.

God Is An Astonaut - Echoes

I'm not that happy. There are moments but those are never permanent. The bird behind my ear likes to travel. Her wings tickles my skin with each flap and flutter. It mimics my heart beat with her every smile.

Birds

The canary, stretched yellow wings invisible over
their eyes. And danced, hidden in the
shadow of the trees. Always bright but never seen. Always
bright but never seen. Always bright but never seen.

This cig and pen feels the same in between my fingers. resting, delicately and just the right ways.

Balanced and patient with me, during the time of stress. Releasing me temporarily from the clutches of being a deaf bird. Trapped in the mind of a free bird.