Peaceful Chaos Hills

There were hills
And hills of grass.
Some prickly.
Other blades green.

Various visitors;
Rocks, pebbles.
Mushrooms.
Valley of sorts.

Alternating
Left, right, overlapping.
Boundaries overlapping.
Hills and hills.

Patience Smalls

Grand heat *cough*
Not sure what lays.
Stay, but don't stay.
My little.
My small.
You can't have it all.

Catastrophe
of a belittled life.
But soon, just wait.
Not a fantasy,
but purple loosestrife;
jutting out, standing.

Our turn is coming,
just keep running.
Through the sticks
*poke poke*
damaged ankles
for a clear mind.

Reflected

Dream of wisps
Crisps, refreshing.
Your smile, your laugh.
Oh wow that laugh.

A toy is a marble.
Ever polished, cloudy.
Rolling in your palm,
Comforting.
Sketch in plaster,
My music master.

That laugh, love.
You strum on a clear,
A first yellow spill
Into me
Atmosphere.

Wide awake, into the stars
Of my reflected smiles.
For miles, and miles.
Shakespeare was wrong;
No ravens, no doves.
Just love. For you just love.

Beautiful Destruction

Juiced and pumped,
Filled with extras.
Focus is fogged, clogged.

Smile for two.
What's real, what's true.
Squint to see, be me.

I know it so grand.
I can see
beautiful destruction.

Fabrics

Weighted words of strings, fabrics.
Unraveled, insignificant.
Part of a long threaded story
pleasant, gory.
Sarcastic, dramatic.
Sometimes elastic.

Smothering me, blanketed
ever with gaps;
shreds.
Of words weighted
unraveled.
Fabric of scraps.

Open wounds of a vowel,
scabs of a shredded consonant.
threaded, long.
Such a story.
Pleasant, fowl.
Useless, but prominent.

Fabric of strings,
sounds of fabric.
Loud, repetitive.
Itchy, stretchy, futile.
But...
I have nothing else to wear.

Today

Dancing feathers
of morning wind,
tickle your lobes, lashes;
testing your tears.

Not too cold,
I hear, I say
For today, is the day.
tickled lobes, tickled lashes.

My shoes are gone.
The page is curling.
Yes I feel ready,
ready to fear. Today.

Cheese for Me?

A swell, not gladly,
but like a wave;
against a rock.
Tis swell, this swell.
In my chest as I think of her.
In my mind as I feel for her.

Puzzles and games,
that make sense,
without cents.
But is that enough?
Am I swelling? Am I enough?
Is.. is this real stuff?

Please, let this be.
Let the train halt,
stop be mine.
This is real, please;
Memory see?
Because life is cheese.

Cheese is life.

Rattling

Twisted words, leaps of faith;
Meanings unheard through holes.
Purple dancing thoughts.
They hide deep in the back,
against the fear, er far...
high wall.

Chance without pages,
without words, no gaps.
Splattered from tugging,
dragging, scraping,
through these stages.
All these traps.

Hardened scars,
ready to laugh, scoff.
Only more cars come,
to push, shove.
Or cause anyone
to simply fall off.