“i miss you”
i tell you so many times when you’re away,
i guess i just wish you were the one to say
that you miss me and you cant wait
to see me at the end of these work days

it hurts to not be missed
by the one you crave so deeply
but i try my best not to bother you
and let you live your life freely
i wish all my sweet words
would be returned
but i guess i dont deserve them

you dont miss me
because im clingy and annoying and
i get on your nerves
but i love you so deeply
and i just want to feel loved in return

bina

pick a subject
take a dip
pack a line
where it fits

clever, playful
ever bold
as you dabble
in the fold

move it, use it
shake the mat
make a list
slap the facts

tell it, sell it
mark it sold
looky, looky
it's a poem

Dracula, my vampire of eternity,
Marigolds withering the archduchy

Departed from the holidays,
Dear saints and martyr always

The rays of sunshine the moon cries,
For all but heaven’s whisper dies

that night,
it was easier to sleep
knowing you were gone
then the restless nights
trying to keep you from leaving.

Tell yourself the truth
Love isn’t what you need
All that make you feel hurt
Is how you made others bleed

Hello, I seem to have lost my mind
If you happen to find it would you please be kind
For it is a delicate thing with low self esteem
It lives in a world of its own, a self inflicted dream

Society was mean to it, it’s gone into hiding
I hope it’s happy, where ever it’s residing

When one door opens, another closes.
this is the eternity's circle,
mistakes belongs to us, but not all,  
the fate mapped out for us to follow,
but does not define our choices,  
beings of necessity and randomness,
we're rattling over the abyss
in the vicinity of dying stars

I Love you!
No Matter how many times
You hear this
It will make you feel special
Every single time

Oh well, another thought just set sail

crime scene love story
my skin feels two things:
your skin, and cold porcelain
i’ll be quiet, i promise
even as you’re tying me up with
the vein you cut from my neck

all i wanted was for you to notice
the blood under my nails, but you
only saw the stains she left on
your neck

i promise after tomorrow i will
still be quiet, even as you crush
my bones and dissolve them
in tea

i am sorry that i mothered you,
and that my mother never taught me
how to love, or breathe air that didn’t
contain you

if only my mother could see her
daughter now, with her heart in your
throat, and your arms turning
her into rotten skin

tell her this is not a crime scene
this is where we fell in love.

if tonight was the last night
that i'll ever be in your arms
i want you to know
i love you and can't stand watching
you hurt knowing i can't do anything.

when you sleep it's like you never cried,

breathing soft and steady, wet cheeks dried.



when you sleep it's like you never lost,

boundaries weren't broken and lines weren't crossed.



when you sleep it's like you're still there,

and you still smile and you still care.



when you sleep you look young as I,

no crease in your brow and no old worn sigh.



and so if sleep is death just being shy,

is it still so wrong,

to wish

to die?

When I was a child,
I was taught poetry wasn't mild,
It was deep as the sea,
And it seemed truly unachievable for me.
I was taught poetry had to rhyme,
Every single line, every single time.
So poetry seemed out of my reach,
Like chasing a seagull down a beach,
Jumping ever so slightly away,
Or soaring into the sunny day.

So I never thrived for what I thought would,
No, Could
Never be.

I guess now I'm fixing the mistakes of past me.

Now there were two of them
Separated between thousands
of read texts and timely
chats touched by sound
but not skin  
Awake in the others sleeping
Sleeping in the others awake  
Restless as they wait
Restless as they wait

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

You ask for my thoughts on what I see,
my opinion, mademoiselle, is you put a spell on me

Cycles of dawn and dusk pass,
creep around in long shadows
as emotions thaw.
I’m no longer trapped in
the tangled fibers of existence.
I am existence:
the definition of survival.
Former victim to the
relentless pulls of the universe
I now wear my own rings,
have my own orbit.
I dreamt myself a world:
full of meaning and purpose.

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

the entirety of my feeling is resting on my tongue,
asking for birth, release, freedom:

here at the border post, the guards have fled, and the memory dreamer refugees, previous detained, hesitantly, gingerly, step across a narrow invisibility, a legal fictionalization, courageously frightened, but words of “at last,” “if not now, when,” and “god bless” blend into a merging crescendo of “yes!”

the road chamfers, dusty gives way, all the traveller’s shoes, now wetted, stained and staining, make amusing sounds of connection and interaction - squishy, distinctive, known in every language, dialect -  unrealized but known, spoken, somehow comprehended.
 

why is this heaven wet? is truth moist? indeed, for this place is truthful, and sensory networks cross, senses are both heightened and bluntly realized- and this confusion delights in human land mines
exploding.

let me explain:
my tongue has eyes,
my tongue speaks the words we have in commonality,
my tongues hears your sounds,
my tongue penetrates parts of you
that no other-part touches in the
same way.  

though you might think this is simply ****** subterfuge, it is not.  

simply you need to understand how
deeply this human connects, in his way.