HaikuX3

Some questions are best
Left unanswered, at least out loud
I'll keep wondering.

Some places are best
Left unmapped, at least for now.
So keep wandering.

Some feelings are best
Left unsaid, I'm not sure how.
Just keep wallowing. 

My Body

Soft, supple, curvy
A tentative pink sunrise
Changing, yet constant

Books

They looked at the corny cover

Of my corny book

And called it corny.

And they were right.

But isn't there a saying

About people and faces?

Something that tells us

Not to judge based on races

Or features or clothing,

Or style, or looks?

Maybe that saying

Could be applied to books.

Yeast Roll

My soul.
My soul
 is like a
Yeast roll,
'Cause it's fluffy.
And light
And tasty and warm.
And it melts in your
Mouth.
Plus
It can
Transform
When you squeeze it.
So squeeze it
And squeeze me.
Shape me to your own.
I can fit in your fist.
I would make it my home.
You can
Kneed me
And need me.
Squish me..
And then swallow me
Whole.
You can swallow my soul.
If you want to.
And I'd love you
Because I love you.
I love you.

Ambling

Vague impressions.
Illusions, delusion,
Allusions to what
May have been
Passion.
Now only blind spots.
Unfocused focal points
Where a bright light
Once shone
Too bright.
I sink
Deep
Into murky, placid ocean.
And the water confuses
My image and actions
In it's wavering facets
And unruly
Refractions.
Apathetic towards
My longing
For solidity.
I'm just wandering.
Ambling.
Searching.
Dizzily.

Black Marker

A thick Black marker
Outlines, emphasizes,
Eliminates dimension,
Flattens and draws
Attention.
Impossible to ignore.
Improbably erased.
And always leaves
The bleakest
Trace.

Artist

My throat aches 
From silently screaming.
I can't find a tear
But know somewhere 
They're streaming.
I keep throwing rocks
But the water won't ripple.
Which way is up?
How can I know, 
If gavity's fickle?
I recognize brilliance
But never create it.
Something has happened
And now I'm sedated.
Like I'm drowning 
In water that's only luke warm.
I don't know my skin 
From the sea.
Or calm 
From the storm.
I'm lost in the grey. 
I long for definition.
I'm an artist
Who envies 
The mathematician.