Little did I know, that one day,
Oh you, dark stranger would whisk me away,
Away from a world, I once took for granted.
Depriving me of the things that I valued,
Most dearly..Most devoutly...

O, dark stranger!
Why, O why...
Did you inevitably have to make me appreciate,
The fact that life is precious and far too short,
And that I could die tomorrow..?

Just what satisfaction do you get,
In making me cherish,
Every minute that He gives us?
In bereaving me of,
The gift of laughter..that is priceless?

Before you attacked me in the shadows,
I had not a clue that
This life was a treasure chest,
Rich in diamonds and gemstones of all sorts,
Or perhaps that it will be snuffed out and finished.

Unbeknownst to me,
Precisely how vulnerable and elusive,
For the misconduct of a handful of cells,
Could change my life so profoundly,
That happiness plays like a sad note.

Bounded to my bed,
Never shall I forget how you pinned me down.
Shut off in the small world of my own,
Unable to help, to meet or to work with
Break out, be of importance, perform marvels for God almighty.

You ponder how people can rejuvenate,
Or gather close to you.
Sympathy, inspiration, foodstuffs together with prayer,
Refreshing menu from the small yard,
Encompassed by care and attention.

What potency lay within me,
Reserve of power
Just been released just as much as I require,
To acquire in the battle,
Against you, dark stranger.

My grade school
burned down
twice.
Once in the 1930's
then again  in
the 50's.
They rebuilt,
there were two
large black and white
framed photographs
of the school houses
before both fires
hanging in the
main hallway.
At some point in
the reconstruction
someone had decided
on two boys
restrooms.
The one at ground level
was always clean.
There were small white
tiles and fresh blue paint.
It always smelled like
pine cleaner,
never ran out of
papertowels.
There was always
sweet smelling
liquid soap in the
shinny silver dispensers.
There were doors with
shinny silver
locks on the stalls.
It was a timeless
space,
prestine and somehow
preserved.
Free and unscathed
by the ugliness of
the world.
Then there was the other
one.
The basement  restroom
was below ground.
There were windows
with wire cages over them.
Their view allowed
a look at the scabbed knees
of the children
who ran about the
hot black top of
the playground.
There were no doors on
the stalls,
yellow stains beneath
every leaky
urnial.
Smears of rust around the
faucets ,
a coarse hand soap
in the often broken
dispensers.
More fit for prisoners
than students.
It smelled like
piss and was always
cold.
I don't know why
one was always cleaner
than the other.
Maybe it was an
unwritten janitor
law.
Maybe they seen it
as somehow lower
than the other.
I always chose the
basement restroom.
It just seemed more
natural to me,
it made me feel strong,
made it all more real.
Now after so many
hardships I can't help
but look back and
remember.
often while high or drunk.
Then ponder the question.
"Have I always been
meant to live in a dirty,
harsh environment,
even way back then?"

People like to lord their humanity
over those they find
less human,
to those people
that a certain definition of human doesn't fit.
"how can you-
hope to be me."
as if they were the pure form of human...
What they forget
is we are all merely monsters,
gallivanting as civilized
and sometimes

we forget which fork is for the meat
and eating our pasta with the salad fork;

we betray our monster.

But also people forget
that angels are just another form of monster
who forgot to be human.
And if we ever could forget our skins
we could just lean down
and help a fellow monster
find his wings
before we meld back into the sky.

there’s something about those tiny teeth
decorating that infinite black canvas
drawn like a curtain at the day’s end
that enhance the chemical persuasions
I give into when yesterday calls itself today

Moonlight breeds a fleeting, false clarity
that the Sun devours ravenously by mid-day
& so my hands often hold nothing but a
pouding headache and throbbing regrets
But I can’t say I know what remorse feels like

How long has it been
since your black tourmaline eyes
met mine, a long-forgotten coal
all burnt and dead of its use;
very much like the owner.

How long has it been
since your ice cold touch
sear at my hot as hell skin
against each other, so imperfect
yet we are of no danger to each other.

How long as it been
since the murmur of your melodic voice
entwined with my out-of-place tune
be it bickering
or a symphony played on the organ
haunting, yet soothing
as we will always go together.

How long has it been
since the silent treatments that will
usually end with an "I love you"
and the ear-splitting shatter of glass,
screaming anger that whispers "I love you"
wind their way across our lives?

Far too long, far too long.

If I'm to believe in a higher power,
then every second feels like an hour.
When it's spent away from you,
heaven seems plastic and untrue.

But if Gods are a delusion,
then you'll pardon my intrusion.
There's no plan, no we, no "one".
Without love, my soul is gone.

Yet, if this cosmos was designed,
there is a port I have to find.
But if it's simply chemistry and dice,
then my heart can live on ice.

Wake me up when we can travel in time,
when we can turn our blood to wine.
And if you could be mine,
that would be divine.

Is there a God?
I don't know, I haven't met you.