Jeff's Poetry

i come to you with gifts, of forbidden arts - the stiff necks wants all the lovelies for themselves, and here i am no miser. take a bite, no tricks you see, yes - your appetite has grown, feels horrendous when the delights i bring don't come the usual hour, make no

tip toe to the spot. a drop of blood, not too difficult. then the recitation of a million verses, to vow, to make amends, to become a child of darkness, when light has betrayed. but beneath light, a liar is found, who holds on the horns of a ferocious magical beast! thus i found myself hugging tight -

can sometimes be confused as the i. the i tried to capture - heaven. in a bottle. in a glance, in a treasure box whisked away; a coin thrown into the well and the well does not grant wishes. a hallucination, a delusion, felt quite real - us arms in arms up the hill: and time stops. i wished time stopped.

is between those thin line - you know the ones invisible you can not walk through it while in your best behavior, best suit, best cheeky grin, best twinkle in the eyes because the lines that burn like acid: they're already grappling at that lub dub, then the beat goes irregular just not that flesh is able to shed light on the clanking machines trying to decipher this pound of flesh

it was not i. the scathing steam - recoiling skin unwrapped. me naked beneath an orange sun, i pretend that my script was written by my parents. by my school teachers, by the bullies in the front courtyard, i pretend i am not crying inside when a scare crow takes shape: i fly to the outskirts, to the black caves of which

a full stop. but that's not satisfaction, just - hanging in mid air, feels wrong when feet should be grounded on earth. like a tree, with roots digging in, seeking water and the man tree tries to imitate a large trunk standing perfectly still by night.

i had my first whiff - dang. it was bad. how bad? i cannot quite say without falling into the same cycle: the swing is just a little too hard, the cry babies have red bottoms, while a teacher's pet is all the glory. not like morning glory, whose wilting stance i quite imagined many times

and you had to butt in - your stinky ass is not aroma: but you do not notice since you're never aware. did you know the star is light years from here? here is this instant, already gone as our handshakes means - bile being stored in a lovely secret, you tell me this all has to do with heaven's will.

the black smoke rising out of the air, like a phoenix dying: then the shadow makes a grab for life; hearken to that cry, the bleak lie of living within tainted air blemished with a touch of midas, then the old gods grew strong, myth became legend, then truth. we bow to these holy temples without

and i bet you it is not anything the stars said, the stars like to lie, especially on important things such as these. it is calculated between two knots, that stretch of time is all it takes to make a nod, the same speech carried here, becomes a death sentence just across the garden. you know, the flowers that