Read me

I am no longer blogging here. Catch my blog on my website
www.phormant.com

Meagan

I have something that I realize is good. Some people go through life looking for the mate they are supposed to spend their lives with. Some die alone. Like my Grandmother. She will die alone. I have spent my life in the dens of promiscuity. Looking for "That Special feeling" with a companion. With a lover. I have been with many woman who either took advantage of me or I them. No one in my life has connected with me like Meagan. No woman has ever been herself and on her own merits. Been amazing. No woman knows me like Meagan knows me. Loves me like Meagan loves me. Through and through and ever in and every out. We know each other. No woman has ever made me laugh like she makes me laugh and no woman has ever been as forgiving, tolerating and patient with me like she is. I have made her cry and I have hurt her but through it all we still are madly, crazy and undeniably in love with each other. I have never felt such passion like I do with her. I have never been able to just stare at a woman and be so taken back by beauty that I have to step outside myself to realize. She is all mine.She is the smartest girl I have ever been with and sincerely the most charming. At times just watching her move, her every stunning move just makes my jaw drop. The feeling is right. This is the girl I am supposed to be with. Though I have loved many girls in my life. I have never in my life loved a girl like I love Meagan. She is my everything and the woman I am destined to spend my life with.

I am guilty

I am guilty of loving material things.
I love my iPhone
and my Nintendo Wii
I love my collection of foreign films
and Design, Typography books.
I love my collection of Surgical Instruments
and comic books.
I love Sushi at least once a week.
I love my Zune and chain smoking
I love old crappy b movies and Twilight Zone episodes
Tin Robots and Painting
I love sketching building because I will never be an architect.
I love my X Box 360,Nintendo, Nintendo 64 and Mike Tysons Punch Out.
I love my girlfriend extensive knowledge in Calculus,biology and everything
having to do with the medical field.
I love cooking and cabbage casserole
I love the size of our house and our pets
I love geeky tech stuff

I love a lot of things. Material things. Some would say this makes
me shallow but they sure are ton of fucking fun.

The red light above my bed.

In the doorway and kept away
These cold hands.
Beyond the pine woods and resinous breath
Echo in between each others fracture
I shovel the grains of dirt
Onto the faces of everyone from my past
Denting the future
I loved them all
They became names in a dictionary
I remember the red sheets, the cracks in the wall
The small little lights hovering above
The best way we could make love was in the dark
Reaching for everything in new wondrous beginning.
Is this all new to you young lover?
Lets try it like this.
I feel you in the palm of my hands
But I was in yours.
Its so horizontal the way we saw each other
Lets catch this crisp dusk before it fades
Slamming your hands against that
Solid adobe wall
Screaming and trembling.
It was all so compulsive
And so destructive.
Look at the rest of the water dripping into the kitchen
Kicking the door down
Releasing the moment from time after time.
We are different now.

Columbia

Columbia


Until the night felt under the drenching lifeless body
Motionless and notated in the likeness of each others skin
Watching those fingers run up my chest
Tickling the goose bumps
The lattice of nerves
Insomnia is my cornerstone
As stricken hypertension
This is my appeal
Can you understand when I am walking in
A daze for weeks
Watching myself between sleep and awake
I contemplated the analeptic credo
The one who says “I’m sorry”
I miss you
The way you smelled and the ay you danced in the dirt
Crashing fists through the mirror of progress
Slicking this greasy hair back and driving
Into the scenic backdrop
I cant speak
Wasting away staring at those magazine covers
Those pretty woman with their
Airbrushed asses
Oiled up like the painted canvas
Behind the spectacles of disaster
Every street corner has a name
That the rest of us have lived on.
Jostling elbows and hitching a ride
I am enriched beyond the re defying luscious lips
Begging into the walls that have just been built.
Poisoning the strands and a tender drug addiction
Juicing the congressional district
I am mobile and can move this gregarious ego of
Mine anywhere.
Just look at their eyes light up.
And feared beyond their mothers whispers.

Just a thought. Not a poem.

While in New York. I saw real inspiration, Fashion, Design, Architecture and everything that is Art. Walking throughout The Museum of Modern Art I felt a rush of fresh air throughout my spine. Walking through the cold streets at night with my best friend just amazed by the surrounding. Eating the best food I have eaten in my life. The Best Sushi I have ever tasted in my life. I see people's fashions and idea of Art in New Mexico and I wonder where their inspiration comes from. This cities architecture is almost based on poor designs without idea. While on Empire State looking throughout the vast borough of Manhattan I felt alive and knew this is the place I have to be. So in the coming months to years I cannot wait to be going to school there. The School of Visual Arts in Manhattan. In the same city as my best friend and my girlfriend by my side in a city I love. I have since downloaded the NYC Subway system app for my iPhone to start learning the subway system. In this city I felt happy, completely happy and completely at ease. Everyone I came across had a smile on their face and greeted me with warm feelings. Busy but warm. So New York. I will see you soon.

Aging, disgraceful and repeating

That little piano in the next room
Playing the part as so it seems
I would love to get up
Stricken with a comfortable crick in my jaw
Tired of talking and moving an inch by inch
Somewhere below the wooden steps at the park
Running they all are
Making romance a new idea
You peel expectations
The gravel road flattens those old tires
Looks like we are walking from here
With your fine addled dress
Wrinkled from the night before
They make raincoats for this kind of storm
Played out before
The hand goes to bed and feels so restless
Tingling with those little pins and needles
Where is the driver
Lost in the desert
What can we do to waste more time
With each other?
Drag those suitcases along the dust
Covering them in leaning ideals
Persuade me you young thing
Throw me down and beat my body
Lacerated to the excess of your fetishes
Is every part of me inside and around you
Yet
Becoming the trouble of this heart
I read it from the lining of your journal
Covered in cloth.
I said I needed more action
More excitement.
Turn on the ambiance of this room
And share your drink with me
Lets poor our hearts out
And lets end us very soon for tomorrow
Seems too promising.

Eyes on the Caution seats

You could paint the visions with the passion.
From the moments she came through
That coffee shop door.
Ripping through each others clothing
Violently making a new memory.
I had only been with her once before and
Had to make such an impression.
When she passed the threshold there was
No need for conversation.
No need for chit chat.
We did not care what each other had been up to.
Eighteen times in one day
A world record?
I couldn’t keep my hands off of her.
Such hopelessness
Such prowess and
In the end. She was more of an idea.
More of a definition and somehow
I let her take my hand
Dive into the depths of everything
I thought a young girl could be.
She held the essence of passion
And relief.
I felt like a man at the most opportune times.
Sexual flights of fancy
At all times
In every moment.
In situations that didn’t call for it.
Its all apart of being young
With a young girl
No inhibitions.
It’s all new to her.
And she shows it with her affection.
It’s all she knows how to do.
Building it up.

Its not focus.
She doesn’t feel reused
It’s not my fault I got sucked in so badly
I don’t feel so foolish.
Because I have lived.
To the extent.
I have fucked enough during these
Last 5 months to last a lifetime
But somehow I wanted more
Just after the age grew older.
I am asked to hide my
Only viewpoint of deliberately
Wasting my life.
But I felt needed.
Important, loved, sexy,
Powerful, needed.
It’s that blind lustful
Fear that feels so new.
The days were too short
The nights didn’t last long enough.
I didn’t want a housewife or
A child raiser.
I crept on my hands holding a glass
Of rum at all times.
With her. I stayed in my bedroom
For an eternity.
It never got old.
Shower and sex
With the occasional eating.
Peeking into something I knew
Will never last.
How could it?
Every night was the big night out.
With a flood that huge
How could anyone recover?


When we met she wore a little outfit.
Huge hair and dark eye makeup.

When she left. She looked the same.

Stop pointing, stop laughing

She is waiting for me.
Covered with paint on the walls.
Red paint to be exact
Driving with the windows down
Is so exhausting in this heat. To a home
With no air conditioning and a girlfriend
Who emits heat from her skeletal body frame.
Pulling into my dirt driveway
I stopped counting the empty bottles
Lining up my entrance.
Drunks, skanks and losers we all are.
How many woman have seen the insides
Of these walls?
Gagging for it.
Asking ridiculous questions in all of
The gettings to know us.
She is laying waiting for me.
With the blankets covering the light
And a little bit of music playing
Pretending to be asleep when I arrive at
6 in the evening.
That curdled little voice filled with
Sleepy flem and wonder.
That long hair is messy in the pillow waiting for my
Fat face and loving hands.
What counts now is just a
Little more sex.
I feel famous.
The days anger bottled up into this moment.
Should I do it in anger or passion or both?
Let me dive in and find out.

Cancer in the courtyard

Wait. Waiting for your touch.
A caress of simple hello.
There you are passing the time. On your own
And across the way is my cold hands.
Waiting.
Do these hours that glide through your important
Things flutter from your passionate words you
Once used for me.
Pushing onward. Its sublime in what you do not
Notice. Over there, waiting. Wait. Waiting.
I see that the love we are making will soon end.
Without the flavor of blades of grass
Lets surrender time against time my dear.
You often speak of infinite heroics.
Will love make it through.
I wrote you a letter in my handwriting.
Did you know it was from my heart with
All the time you lose on everything but us.
This heart is restless.
Wait.
Waiting.
Comparing is to driving without a passenger.
How my skin craves a little finger.
How please can I just ask for something.
Lets let the rest wash to the riverbanks
Curving with the fish.
Where and along the murky water
Will no longer be my reflection but…
Yours alone.
Partners and all the sharings of everything.
Many will find your passions
Many will not need my needs.
I am easier to learn how to please.
But then again. You will not see.
I come second. Second to your firsts.

Pigions in the wall

Pigeons are in the wall.


I drove all night to get to a place to sleep
And wait for a girl.
Every turn throughout the night was closer.
Pushing any speed limit and
Backing off.
I arrived at this seedy motel.
The attendant did not understand English.
So I handed him the room rate
And he handed me the key.
I took a shower and noticed dirt at the ring
Of the stall.
I opened my phone and called her.

“I am here”

She said she will arrive first thing in the morning
Being it 5 a.m
I didn’t have to wait long.
The cracks and creaks
The birds living in the walls.
I could hear the cooing.
So I kicked.
I kicked the wall and they got scared.
In my sleep they returned.
Stronger than ever.
Greater in numbers and
Louder this time around.

“Can I get a new room?”

He looked at me as though I was
Speaking French.
Or English.
I laid down and she knocked on the door.
The sound of fucking drowned out the
Birds.
Her screaming made them fly away
And apparently one of them
Called the cops.

Tomorrow in your eyes

Never have I seen such green eyes
With a body made of fantasy.
To each bit of my lip from her mouth is and forever will be
The beginning of me.
Slowly I ease my kind words to her ears
She tilts her long dark hair and smiles
A perfect smile.
Flawless structure. I study Gods human
Architecture.
This sensation of water running through my spine
Is direct. Like corks floating on clouds.
I run gently my hands throughout her stomach and
Pulse by pulse I see her greens into my browns.
As a young man I found it impossible to know such love.
As the electricity through my body
Please excuse me for acting like a boy.
In this skin I have been many things.
My hands have mapped your body to every inch is
My direction. You are my perfect city.
I know your dawn and dusk
I count your freckles and imagine myself as
One of them to stare up at you from here.
Smooth against me the fire burns
And scattered across our souls
The nights blend into days and I am still
Staring. Like a monument to myself
I study you loving me and completely lost the negatives.
I am a young man.
A young man in love with a young woman.

Toy Soldiers

The more stories
Hearing it from historic tongue.
Magnetic personalities I put myself away for a
Tiny bit.
Just listen to the speaking.
Just listen to anything to take myself away from
Where I began.
If the words pushed to strong. My heart would shatter
Thin with sparkles in my eyes
I wonder where we came from.
Sea to diamond flooded sea. I stare at the skyline.
In this Earth with wings abroad.
I push the horizon and wish for it to go to sleep.
To swim in the dark is like floating in space.

My feet with nothing beneath them. There is no
Room for error.
This is my freedom of two winds racing at
Opposite directions.
Never the less crushed under such background.
The heads are swimming.
I am on a spotlight in a satin stage.
Mirrored in thin lines to erase my frozen
Awkwardness.
These hands are made of wood
Your stomach of sandpaper.
Remembering when I started us off.
A race to capture each other attention.
I was ready. But again you were not.
I am so tired.
Seeing this image plastered on the brick.
The colors of the sun are fading it
To the memory of a story book.
Its such a sweet taste in my mouth.
It feels like the end.

A dance with broken legs

Dancing with the broken legs


Look into those looking backing at you.
When the crashing of words together
Is forgiving those words.
When “I love yous” come back and tatter
So many wrongs.
I hit the wall before I even noticed who I was
How long can I drive until I am the one
Who admits the guilt of two.
Take the blame of sacred lacing.
How is the hands creeping in my ribs that
Of the girl of my dreams.
Shutter at the thought of roses for the
Rest of my life.
I think I travel the streets of many cities
To see myself inside of buildings built upon
Centuries ago.
When I return. I will close my hands and clap together
The musings of a break. A break of who I was when
I left. I gather words to write from an old dust pan
Something of a wicker in sentences to follow.
Lakes are turned over.
I almost love to watch you walk away.
Is it for the rest of years?
Keep your arms to yourself in this weather.
We don’t belong together tonight.
I will take my time to write your “Dear John”
Wouldn’t want to spoil the fun for you.
Just explain my expressions when
He is warming my side of the bed.
I will be thousands of miles away. In naked city
Streets to my eyes.
The lights will be my dressings. But again your name will
Be too much for the endings.

Is what it sees

I don’t hear you laughing anymore
As the cold in which hazel on wounds
Did we see the top of this mountain?
The two of us when we are walking
Dancing inside of circles.
Dancing inside this filthy cities lies
You sure showed me the ropes
Did or did you not poison the ropes around
A silk wrist.
Did we crash this train on the tracks
The rush. Such a rush when we loved
How did we cure each others ailments?
Sincerity wasn’t enough like the air we breath
Wrap your coldness around that tree
Inside the oak with fine endearments
Plucking at each of the fine spirits in this graveyard
Reaching for the answers.
My hands are cold and the veins are protruding
No. No your hands are not helping.

I am not afraid of your laughing.

I have built scars atop of scars and to call you lover will
Build one more. This earth is carved from demons flying
From my stomach. Restless demons that in gardens like this
Love to call you by first name. Isn’t it about time you left?
leave to call yourself something other than yourself?
It’s beautiful in this fog. This morning like you
Make my heart flutter.
That feeling went on the train tracks. Someone is holding dear to
Their luggage with you in mind. Next stop

Oh Grandest of Life

Word by word I hang through
To dry your tongue and continue
Kind is always the mirror
Reptile is this skin and wander around
This dingy hall.
Feet are covered in water and sweat
All the colors would agree when
Sitting in the dark.
A collection of dead songwriters
Writing eulogies on the same napkin
Table top of chips betting on the loser
Clear the fog with sentences
Made for woman’s ears.
Can’t loosen this grip to save my life
Make that leavening a little more quick.
Marching through the borders to
Push your waist into me.
We are still making love in the daytime
The latest wisdom and hold on the side of
The ship.
That water is too salty for such sweetness.
Remember my name when the night is slow
And the moon is hidden
When we cannot exchange those kisses
We dreamed of.

Pacific Kingdom pg. 70

Sun for a Pale face

A song with no words

Holding onto your broken legs

This time is never going to turn backwards.

Tempted at ringing ex lovers at the sign of

Loneliness

Who can build alters knowing they have a

Past?

I will kill these dreams if I must

To love you for one more day.

Interact with the men you have shown

Attention to.

There is no beauty in the words

So we don’t write them.

Just music.

Only music.

Pop these fingers because they hurt from

Not touching her body for too long.

This deception is too old

I become a quarrelsome hero

And thick blades of hair beneath my fingers

I havnt cleaned them in months.

Don’t tell a soul our bedroom secrets

What whorish charms you have used to whoa me.

To draw me in deeper

A girl alive must not love like you love.

But they do.

Tying another great song to the this memory

I will hate it in months to come.

Little notes when I realize you’re not

Laying next to me.

“I’ll be back soon my love”

And then they stopped.

Pacific Kingdom pg 72