[ .capillarity.gone. ]

livid styles
pinpricks all fashioned on sky & skin
where nothing holds back
lips on hearts that work the mound
aching still festers
in your psyche psylli-ble

our echoes etching
epidermis turned pulp red
gone tasteless
gone tongue numb
your haunting presence
eats our every word
ever silent structures
that are not love

and ever arching
are your plots & applauding
clasped palms to psalm valves
the beat goes on
capillaries dying
one by one
gone grounded out
are all eyes gone out?

© Bryan McLean June 25 2009

[ collapse,adorned. ]

we are likely from a future, that wasn't formed, wasn't ready for us, a future coded, adored, adorned with all the illbegottened leads, the lines connecting you to me and me to you, are leaking out, lusting, and the nightsky we ache for, is the starlit void we are returning to.

© Bryan McLean June 24, 2009 91
my birthday . mon anniversaire

[ .sending.out. ]

flustered, just don't understand why people loose interest in me, its all chatter on the radio one day, and no thank-yous-but-no or no good-byes the next. am I out of line, am I too mouthy, too boring, too honest, did I give the wrong impression or say too much. where I've left room to breathe, not felt I've acted too eagerly, just cannot spot why messages don't come back, nor figured out when its too much
to send another lesser letter in bottle.

© Bryan McLean June 23, 2009
090/100

[ .pendulum. ]

an easy mark, clear on my features to face,
and no matter the weight I carry or the gloom I cast,
the light inside burns through.

© Bryan McLean June 22, 2009

[ .your.youth. ]

I see far into the vast, differential future, the age in lines on your cheeks and
brow, the sneer and long conversations, our way of talking will never waiver,
even where our confidence will, even when I know we are here and now, our
youth so limitless, immortality never fading.

© Bryan McLean June 21, 2009

© B McLean June 20, 2009

[ .stardust,numb.near.our.nature. ]

all these cords, minor fought for major, tying down, and heat hath no rhythm, nor it's ache, not in all, the lights' starry distance, ready where we lie, am under all your glaring wonder, where the axis now animate, beleaguered, that nero need rhythm, be I your virtue, be I the wolf in side your bed dress, echoes are that said, the sad marker, under this spark, the pink, the hellenistic bravery, etches to your skin, fascinate our attentives, cracked land rough shot, smirk, grace cannot possess, your startling beauty,
your ever eyeshine, prime my precious, prime.

© Bryan McLean June 19, 2009

[ .lost,underwater,. ]

lost, misplaced, misshapened, un-trusted, unloving, exhausted. this must be what burnout tastes like, bitter in my sore mouth. so why is it that I'm struggling, underwater, with several hundred arms and hands pushing me, holding me down further, their loving embrace, entanglement so quantum, when I know that on the other breaking side of surface, lies the freedom of genius. why am I still fighting the clutching, with hundreds of bodies and faces, all mine, all aching to be free. palms not pushing forward,
yet I have not the grace of giving up nor giving in.

© Bryan McLean June 18, 2009

[ .a.long.fellowship. ]

I am forever in your debt for, all the things you couldn't say or do for me, it's the empty rooms that you have filled, the sun weathered hallways and watched windows, excitement to the jingle of keys on the door, creak of floorboards late at night, the low, murmur purring at my side in the deep dark night.

© Bryan McLean June 17, 2009

[ .lamentation. ]

so out of place
just like you've been
in the echoing night
where our tremors
catch us up
the lines feral
in your hungry wake
as the being
under your skin
fights to tear
in side out

© Bryan McLean June 16

[ .end.to.our.doppelgänger. ]

end song, as the gangrel scratching begins, catchy, it repeats my faces, over and over, and its clear,
its all my doing, my mistakes, as the mirror commands, ego on the all setting eyes.

© B McLean June 15, 2009

[ .the.wolves,unsaved. ]

iii
calling on the night wind, the symbol sly lined, as the ready meek, are wary of our offerings, now, as our cover is sundered, and clearly we are, mark, mask and tooth, the riding gawdz, the mecha gawdz, under their treading pads, swallowing whole, the garish need, of your sweetened core.

© B McLean June 14, 2009

[ .the.wolves,unsaved. ]

ii
mighty are their maws, their eyes and vassal forms, thumping in the pitch, glaring from the blackened brow, hungry cables, center-folded over, the edge, where your fangs and ferocity, await the feast of my meat sweet core.

© B McLean June 13, 2009

[ .the.wolves,unsaved. ]

i
and the harrowed, ready frames, lining up, in season. flirt is front, centered, wetted, the lolling tongues, vapid, but poised, slowing their heavy breath, fooling easy prey, into their sweaty reed wall traps, sweeter from the core.

© B McLean June 12, 2009

[ .undying.attraction. ]

in the groove, as the teeth grab and pull, heavy as the earth goes, track by tread. cannot deny, that the love given away, is that gravity we keep, we beg to stay, hidden in exigent waves, rushing you on, to the sharp sharp shores, jagged, insatible, and ready for your brittle frame.

© B McLean June 11, 2009

[ .atria.armies. ]

feel your skin
at angles
here we end up left in
oblong to obtuse
tantamount post pinnacle
as breath cannot match
our speed of racing
atria to arterie
masses swelling in the vault
tremors cannot pass
nor clear out
finger tips on shaking brow
not finding direction
nor nothing left but wanting
as words turn all razors
finding your sweet edges
that I must be cutting into

© B McLean June 10, 2009

[ .still.in.the.heavy.corner. ]

and I am at that end, the edge of words that aren't working, no matter what my voice seems, it's cracking underneath, crumbled in a corner, angry that it didn't matter enough for you to see, that all the steps you take lately, are cutting into the flesh of the feelings, here hidden, in my heavy laden chest.

© Bryan McLean June 9, 2009

[ .wherewithal. ]

tied up, by these moving, pinnacles, summoning the words that have that motion, the dizzy sick feeling I get, in your knee weakening presence. stuck on you, thoughts are limping back, to just one blazing moment or two.

© Bryan McLean June 8, 2009

[ .amourous.surrender. ]
 
hands
reach my side
where it's touching
cutting
try to break through
all the edges
I've been curing
in galliant guise
 
under fog lit nites
in the glowing schemes
talons running out
across curvaceous plains
skin cannot hold out
as the ruts rendered clear
 
amour in tight-tight smiles
trecherous every incline
the thoughts and nails cross
careworn match sticks

push out against
the deadened eye
magnify
audio in tune
now vocals shut down
our intrinsic nature
 
hands
haut and harrowing
matching lines
that cross plams
fail to touch
based on ending echos
in your halls and fury

© Bryan McLean June 7, 2009

[ .piano.six. ]

pianos, haunting me, since I was six.. the keys so easy to track, giant planks, to my tiny hungry fingers... just to make solid something your body guides, and something so much more true.. even when you're short of words, you can still imprint your meaning from ivory and strings.

© Bryan McLean June 6, 2009

[ .false.tangent. ]

feel like I've been writing for nothing, writing for years, false hope, on this tip of tounge, lolling, waiting. all I see is imbalanced, unanswered questions, things only finaces only fund. acupuncture cannot balance a cheque book and  dreams aren't supposed be based on the 6.73 in my savings account.

© Bryan McLean June 5, 2009

[ .the.wedge.of.fringe. ]

clippings at your feet, the sound surrender, of your sighs and moans, in the text and lines, the wedge of fringe, that your slender touch, still finds, and leaves, static marks, burning in my, heated desires.

© Bryan McLean June 4, 2009
071/100

[ .so.long,rotting.i[ve]been. ]

lungs switch out, near on nigh, all the things I'[ve] been\(or)\hidden from you all, as you read, and re\a/tch, in the swallows of the gore that's shed, echoes are the drumming lines, and my lies are oh so moulded, perfection. timber crisp, pole and lace, you desire, w\(or)\ks & w\(or)\ds, rubbish, splen.dour scented, as you desperately, leak your lines, down thighs, to kn[ee]s burnt bare, keen, here, swelling, justice is the switch out.

© Bryan McLean June 3, 2009
070/100

[ .cardiac.summons. ]

a little stuck for what to say
when all the words are easy
but all the ways they come out
are so terribly awkward
and all kisses from
my mouth to yours
seem to still be on a cord
to my rewired vasculars
nervous lines thumping
everytime we meet

© Bryan McLean June 2, 2009
069/100

[ .xvi. ] (in face,)

in face, narrowing glance, as lines draw tighter, furrow, but no focus nearer,  semblance breaking, ergo our ego, waxing, over in age, as our grips, tighten in belief. affecting our phenomenon, from fluid illusions, solidifying perceptions, set out indirectly opposite the goal, the truth.

© Bryan McLean June 1, 2009