always mindful
   not to love things

living so that they
   all could burn
and it would be nothing
   but an inconvenience

three objects
   have escaped my plan
maneuvered
   through my designs

1. old white macbook
   my beautiful
       smart
         well-designed
  whirring piece of brilliant technology
you are already gone. next.

2. wedding rings
  irrelevant
sold those motherfuckas in an instant

3. asian machine love
  i am having a hard time
having to let you go
  my beautiful, black mitsubishi.

i chose you.

i researched for weeks
  analyzing data
comparing machines
  prices
trying to be reasonable

and out of all the machines,
i.chose.you.

you are the perfect shape
  of all vehicle shapes, mitsubishi
i have a slight obsession with
   design
     lines
   c o l o r
      efficiency
speed
    and b  o  o  m  i  n  g SOUND

you are the perfect balance of safety
  including 4WD
and fuel efficiency
  (but you already knew that, didn't you?)

your headlights are so bright
  and your high beams
so magnificent
  it's almost embarrassing

mitsubishi, you little snake...
  you have a manual mode
so i can choose to be a race car driver
  whenever i want

mitsubishi outlander sport, i love you so

let's talk about your face
  you have a pig-face like me
your nose is abrupt
  it's blunt and it's different
and i love it

you know i hate the cold and the snow
  i love the sun and the moon
so you show them to me all the time
  moonroof, mitsubishi - brilliant
(with mood lighting for night? you dog!)

you wipe away the rain
  without me having to ask
you cast light into the dark
  all on your own
gps
  usb
subwoofer
  fockford fosgate
bluetooth

mitsubishi, you shake the earth
  alerting my family
that i am almost there
  blasting music
through my dna
  so that i am made
of vibrations and air
  invisible to the naked eye
or playing my science fiction audiobooks
  at a reasonable
and responsible volume

mitsubishi,
you respond to me with such grace
showing me impossibilities
with a rearview camera
saying, "hello!" in the morning
and, "see ya!" when i leave
(and i believe you mean it)

you heat my ass in the frigid winter
  an alert me with an icon
when i am losing traction
  or there may be ice
i could not ask for more, my machine love.

the deer was not your fault.
or mine, or the deer's.
  we were all doing what we do,
and to be quite honest,
  the deer got the shit end of the stick, mitsubishi.
i'm sorry about your dent and your crack
  i wanted to fix it, but i love you even more now

you are my one machine love
  with power
combustion
  and pistons
you are electric
  intelligent
and you boom
  sleek
comfortable
  well designed

i don't want to see you burn.
it would be more than an inconvenience.

two out of three things are gone.

but i chose you. i want you still.

my home is gone - fine.
my things are gone - fine.
that bastard is gone - fine.
my job is gone, mitsubishi.
  i am being stripped bare.

i am being humbled, mitsubishi.

i have to let you go.

but i'm not ready,
my asian machine love.

You
Are untamed
Reckless blood and wit intertwined
A twisted, brazen
 mind.

Your mind
Is so clearly different
It leaps and soars, so acrobatic
And your thoughts appear to me so hazy and enigmatic
Your mind is simply not pragmatic
Yet your perception knows no bounds.
You have thoughts that come close to insanity
That sometimes flow in the form of profanity.
  
Your spirit
Is either very high or very low
Up and down, to and fro
There is no in between for you
Some say you are stupidly crazy
The dull ones say that, the ones too lazy
To see beyond the rugged surface.
The subdued and vapid ones
Will never understand the magnetism
Of your sweet, exquisite devilry.

On your face you often wear
A fierce and restless stare
A wan, discontented expression
As though you're always awaiting
Something bigger,
Something better.

You
Are fluid, swaying fire
And I will never tire
Of watching you burn
I can see you brain boil and churn
As it reels into into areas of
 madness and chaos.

Your psyche
Is an endless field of dark reverie,
Of fear and vagary.

I know your night terrors
Your savage dreams of death
Screams and bated breath
Unutterable visions
The grotesque world of horror thats spins itself out
And dribbles into your drawings
All those creatures, skeletons gnashing and clawing...

You
Are gentle and thoughtful
Yet you are terrified
Of this dark thing that sleeps within you.

Your eyes - they’re stunning
They’re tempestuous, wanton,
Wild, like some fierce animal peering out of a rusted cage
Oh, your eyes
They are something beautiful, but annihilating
Like Autumn crocus flowers, innocently poisonous
Lids splaying delicately like its violet leaves.

You are tall and strong
And uncontrollable,
And your smile
Is the biggest paradox I've ever encountered
Childlike
And fatal.

You are not
A creature of the commonplace
You are not a slave of the ordinary
You are not a mindless drudge of the mundane
You are free.
Or bewitched, what's the difference

Been dazed and confused for so long it's not true
There were kids
Sitting in the soft night's semicircle
Encased in a haze of smoke
The darkness enfolding them in a cloak
Of all mysterious things nocturnal
Making it all eternal
A superficial feeling of found truth
A white aura of blazing youth
Conquering the darkness with the fiery tips of lit joints
Puffing chimeras and golden illusions
Things left unsaid yet lead not to confusion
The substance and the glowing friends
Seems to fix everything and make ineffable amends
Lends them some heightened receptivity
With some dazzling sensitivity
To the dizzy promises of life
        Wanted a woman, never bargained for you
There was blue bottles and red cups
Sloshing full of 21st century ambrosia
Every moment of the night
Is doused in glowing star-light
Different rooms, dark places
Different shadows, similar faces
        Lots of people talk and few of them know
There was music softly ebbing and weaving its way to us
      Soul of a woman was created below
Gleaming sequined pillows
Curtains ebbing in delicate billows
That no amount of reality could ever harden
In the black garden
Amidst the tangy, acrid scent
Boys and girls came and went
Among the soughs and the vodka and the gleaming stars
We are young; vodka replaces wine, blunts replace cigars
      You hurt and abuse tellin' all of your lies
An adagio of whispers travels with a florid vibration
Waves of words, swirls of conversation
High kids trying to touch
What has never been tangible
     Run around sweet baby, Lord how they hypnotize
These kids linger on towering stools and lush couches
Leaning back with careless slouches
Or wander back and forth
Breathing dreams like air
     Sweet little baby, I don't know where you've been
An elusive rhythm throbs in the humid atmosphere
Fragments of lost words hover on drunken lips
A stirring warmth flows
From bodies spilled together
Snuggled under a blanket of stars
      Gonna love you baby, here I come again
Hands take hold of hands
And fingers tightly interlace
Throbbing softly with fluctuating warmth
The room is electric, filled with tiny flowing currents
      Try to love you baby, but you push me away
In this wake of boozed up elations
All sorrows are aborted, all conscience is obliterated
Blitzed kisses are exchanged, transitory enchanted moments
Bemused nudges and tender embraces
Arms around shoulders, heads resting drowsily
All of this immediate and forever
        Don't know where you're goin', only know just where you've been
And the tipsy, blissfully mindless joy of youth
Gives them bleary yet satisfactory hints of the unreality of reality
        Sweet little baby, I want you again
The teens are flickering in and out of consciousness like befuddled fireflies
The sober ones roam the rooms, drifting haphazardly about
Simultaneously enchanted, bewildered, and repelled
By the seemingly inexhaustible variety of drunken fun,
The racy, adventurous mood of the night
        Been dazed and confused for so long, it's not true
We are all so young
So young and dipped in the dust of folly
And our laughs contain a hint of melancholy
The magic of nights like these,
When the spell of mortality is broken,
Eludes us all,
Yet we cling to them
Like moths to a flame.
Nights like these dig deep in the stuff of the soul
But there is still much to be learned

i dont understand you
we are always on different pages
i cant stand you
and you rages

sick of being taken advantage of
especially by you
how can this be love?
forgiveness is way past due

i dont know how you affect me this way
because i hate you
sometimes i want to run away
because i have to

1920s wannabe
lie and cheat to end up on top
stuck in the past
loving a girl who has long moved on
reaching so far for a silly green light
that he passes it without realizing
in the end
he did end up on top
on top of a raft
on top of his pool
on top for the first time that summer
only to be on top to stay
thanks to two jealous men
(Mr. Tom Buchanan)
and
(Mr. George Wilson)
jealous for different reasons
but aiming at the same man
who ends up
shot to bits
on top
of his shattered American Dream

You were different
As you repeatedly pointed out
You weren't quite like the others
You possessed a quietness which only titillated me further
We had moments which will lie etched in memory forever
We were different
Together
But then, like twigs under the feet of a giant
You broke me.
You may be the one I thought I desired
You may be the one I thought I required
But you are not
Nor are you the only one for me
There are plenty of fish in the sea
Should I choose to go fishing.
For now, the rods must stay in the barn;
I have bigger fish to fry.
Like changing the world, for instance
Which to you is a preposterous and fanatical notion
To me, is another thing to tick off my to do list
I am different
Knocking me down did not serve any purpose but to strengthen my resolve
I rose slowly, like a flower amongst weeds of pain
I came through, bigger, better, scarred but stronger
Oh look what you've done
I wish you no harm
But I'm not exactly rooting for team ** anymore
You're on your own there
And rest assured, give me a few more years,
And I'll show you just what you are missing.
In that moment, poetic justice will truly be served.

Hey there (if you're there at all),
I sincerely hope all is well.
Guess you're really swamped with work,
honestly no need to explain, I could just tell.
See the thing is... the thing is, there is actually a thing.
Something has come up.
It's quite hard to explain cause I don't yet know what we are,
so if we are kind of a 'thing', then I want to breakup.
You don't write to me any more
and I really miss those emails
witty comments, sarcasm and hardcore banter
strung together with immaculate grammar and ample clichés.
You seem to have forgotten that I didn't fall for you back then
and very little had changed since.
So three years later when you contacted me out of the blue
I was hardly convinced.
As a preplanned holiday got in our way
placing you 5 hours behind and 5000 miles apart
it was that daily email exchange over a month
which gave whatever it is we have now, its start
not calls, not facebook nor skype,
just words, simple phrases and our ability to type.
Essence of your raw personality seeped through
enticing me to a very pure, untampered version of you.
Since I returned, since we met, things haven't been the same.
Are you trying to gain the upper hand of this game?
Because, I wasn't even aware we were playing,
so technically neither can win, such a shame.
I appreciate your intellect, ambition, success
and middle class upbringing,
those random gestures of affection
and passionate lovemaking.
I understand your commitments
and the hierarchy of your priority que
But just because I get it
doesn't mean I'll agree to put up with them too.
It's true, my future is rather blurry
but that's a different thing.
I might be chronically needy
but I'm not asking you for a ring.
I do however fancy flowers
and would really like to go dancing
a daily doze of 'you're thinking of me'
topped with very large amounts of cuddling.
If all I wanted was to get laid,
there was plenty of opportunity to be swayed.
Time to end this hand has come a little too late
with a Royal Flush in Spades.
I will miss those endearing emails,
and the 12th floor of your office with its magnificent view.
I will miss the idea of having a man in my life,
but I won't so much miss you.

how lonely sits
the city says
lamentations

guess this mouse has what you americans call post traumatic
stress disorder,
think of it more like
a path for the
eyes.

one where eyes are finally forced away
from the works of hands
by the knock knock
knocking on
heaven's door,
everybody's saying,
hodi hapa? something's
wrong if no one's answering; tonight.

my neighbor whose
name is eej (for
real) came to
the hut with
his friend.

i said do you
have siblings
he said
i did

oh

said i

you are living
my worst nightmare
one thing about an african

childhood, they say fatalism, you say you
would think about death too
and who knows

what you'd
look
like

tonight by the bagel van i said bunkle
i gotta problem
what's your problem said he
well i think i'm not wearing enough colors
no said he you're missing a bright splash in the orange red family

who knows what we all look like
inside the infinite space
of our souls

wonder if
blue means purity or
green means beauty
or red means strength
or love
or love

well
we all look
pretty much
the same asleep

hatred doesn't look
different in one
eye or another

but why does
it have to
be in the
eyes of
anyone

this mouse has
been asking
since
child
hood

why
why
why.

the cruelty

but
yet
still
and
for
ever

(you always did care for me yeah
you always did share with me yeah)

you always make me laugh, still

the book of jonah makes me
think of sea legs
and just everything,
you know all
the palm trees
huts, nonvoices
of our lives

the blessings rain down
an ocean sunsetting
on an Ocean sky.

siblings

be strong the
good kind of
dangerous

is
the



fire

Your voice is fascinating.
The choices are conversating.
I notice I'm hyperventilating.  
But not creating anything different.
From what I see it to be.

You see,
I've got many things running through my head.
What I could say, or say instead.
I apologize for the stuttering.
Because your eyes are fluttering.
And it's hard not to look.
For simply one look.
My knees are buckling.