El Joaquin

in the tempest of it all
drawn from summer to fall
in an ode to the dead
in the unrest tosses in bed
...

you are the one i chose to enter into that place
you sat down while i picked up the pieces
slowly we began to put it back together
some pieces were sharper than others
...

my lover
mine to devour
mine to behold
there is no other
...

if you were to ask me what my favorite color is,
i'll make a feeble attempt to describe her eyes
if you were to ask me what sound quiets me,
i'll explain how the music in her voice soothes me
...

you have planted your hands
inside my rib cage like roots
you touch every corner of my life
nothing is kept from you
...

an empty tomb with death inside,
darkness looms in all hidden,
emotions stale and heart in pieces,
an amorous taste for destruction
...

am i holy
am i profane
is there an answer
am i insane,
...

thought i needed you
that i would be lost
not complete or alive
amiss and untrue
...

to the moon and back they say
how limiting is their way
pass the moon and stars
and through the sun
...