#5outof100

My eyes wandered along the mildewed

Bodies of the long forgotten labyrinth,

Dark veins welcomed me into the

Deadened world of fantasy and desire,

An ashen star-appled kingdom

Full of delicious half milked lies,

I kissed her slowly with my sinuous skin,

Shoulders pained under the weight

Of her mortal expectations,

I loved her wholly.

Passion fruit sprung from silvered sweat,  

Tangible moans as I laid next to her,

Where things that should not exist ran free,

Her sighs challenged the permanence of things 

Body limits as she licked away my fears

Ripened raspberry bushes atop ethereal mountains  

I remember…

A sugared almond rested amongst a dusty rose

An artichoke I peeled with my taste buds as

My fingers pursued lustful landmarks,

A safe passage through her land of promises,

An earthquake rocked her core

Barriers of calcium collided with a star burst

An elixir against my agonies of obsession 

She died in my mouth

Fingers of dawn pushed away a sinful siesta, 

Gone was the siren's ballad 

Govern me home toward

my shadowed place beneath these streets,

a perverted kingdom for bastardized (and self-proclaimed) monarchs

sipping spilt tea in the labyrinthine sewers of rebellion.

Two palms can be placed on the same striped tablecloth,

but the mouth that feeds will always be the quintessential

tongue for a broken promise idea called "Change".

Comfort me away from the harshness

of parliament, a moiety of dusted theories and

the umbrella beat that swings the deplorable bathroom two step

until it signals the omnipresent time to lift

this heavy woolen blanket from my broken eyes

and taste the iron rivers of silver studded microphone lies,

calming my new found sense

of generous nerve

to the constantly consuming masses.

Inhale the bittersweetness of validity as it is

the scintilla to the heat of one person's mind

speaking through the cracked lips of someone else's

forgotten morals,

the puppets of a congressional red tape affair

grinding their wooden molars as one

whisper leaks into an empty crowd and prompts

the silhouette of revolution to don a mask

I sat alone 

On the front porch

Lightning flashing

Thunder rumbling

Rain pouring

Me staring at her umbrella next to the garden gnome my dad got her for her birthday

I remembered the past 6 months

One day in particular

Quite like this day

I could hear the distant sounds of the ventilator

As I wandered through the labyrinthine halls of the hospital

Along with my father's voice

"Where is the damn vending machine?"

Coffee was quintessential and disgusting here

I heard a man's voice saying that it would be fine and my moiety would take care of everything

I sneaked past Daddy and the man in the suit to my mother's side

Knowing she was fading quickly

I was searching her face for life

A smile

A tear

A scintilla of hope

Memorizing her eyes

Her lips

Knowing all I would have left soon of my mother

I thought it was a quintessential journey

to travel through the labyrinthine mountain passes.

Make my way in thin air and freezing climate,

That I could find a scintilla of pride in surviving.

It was a coming of age ceremony-a sanctimonious

ritual of the mountain's folk-long since forgotten by religion.

Even so.  I didn't have to do it:  it was optional, but my father had

and so had his.  This was something that I truly wanted.

She stared at me with those two trembling fires she called eyes.

Flickering in the wind--wrapped about her long earthy hair.

Told me that I was a fool, as if she knew the moiety of are being

would be shattered like so many icicles on the warm side of a house.

I patted her shoulder gently (a slight grin on my face):  "I'll be back soon".

As I turned to walk away she grabbed my arm and pulled my hand back.

She placed something there.  "I'll always be your umbrella," she said.

I laughed-waving-as I walked away, but I guess I wouldn't be back.

I was too far out.  I could no longer feel my body.  I wanted her to find

my final writing's here, and know that she was till the end.  She read

these words among the search party two weeks later.  Written on the