I came back from Nicaragua
And you came with me.
Now you and I are so close,
But I feel your affects on me
And sometimes
I wonder if this thing we have
Will work....
I know you love me—and all,
But I’m just not
That fond
Of parasites.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 12:48 AM UTC
You can’t see me,
But I’m here at my desk,
In a gray swivel chair,
In a sea of cubicles.
But you can’t see me.
And you can’t see
My colleagues
Over the shoulder
Concerned faces.
Or their quiet looks
Of sympathy.
And you can’t hear me,
Because you’re too busy,
Screaming.
And I know
You’re scared.
“My loved ones are being taken advantage of“
You say,
But this is a one sided conversation.
So I let you talk,
And I let you end it.
“Go **** yourself,”
I say to a dead line.
And I go out for pretzels and beer.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 12:30 AM UTC
Balance on my heel
For a moment,
Make sure I'm real
Let's tip toe
Through the family hall
With steps you know
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 2:33 AM UTC
Relax, de-stress, the moon is full tonight
The stars are out, faces turned forward
Trials painted end to end
Your heart never felt so bright
So good night stars, and good night moon
Tomorrow’s quick to come
Awaken to the face of the rising saint,
I’m glad this day is done.
They say early to bed, early to rise
If I wake to the absence of our smile,
Was it worth the rest I took?
What am I here to compromise?
I’ve heard what They say about love,
I’m really not impressed
Like I said, now you’re de-stressed,
Time to compress, to digest my exposition.
If your heart doesn’t flutter like mine,
Relax, all will come in time.
Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 2:18 AM UTC
Tension at the table.
They break bread
As you would faces.
They talk with tongues tense
Through taunt teeth.
It’s family dinner.
And although you sit miles away,
You’re sitting there now.
Each chair squeaks.
You're anxious,
To shift weight.
Utters of small talk,
As you wait for the implosion.
Jul 25, 2011
Jul 25, 2011 at 10:50 PM UTC
I want
to make
the truth
flow.
This is not an essay.
Or an open wound.
True debauchery, no, true inspiration
Must come from
What has been
Crossed out, no, from what has been done before.
It will, no, it must ripple along muscles pulling strings as puppeteer,
to the beat of your tapping brain.
It will, yes it will, hit the bass and vibrate.
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 10:02 PM UTC
Let these be the guidelines.
Only follow the childhood dimples.
The eye's laugh line.
Follow the faint definition down their arms.
Find that spot along the waist.
The dropoff by the hip bone.
Where only those you love can rest a calm hand.
Feel the rough hands
And make note the spot
Where the coarse turns to soft
And realize we all have our rough spots
And they are always followed by smooth patches.
Hear them breathe.
Listen to the heart as you would a piano lesson
Ready to imbrace new patterns
New ambiance
New tempo.
Nuances.
Opt to rest your head,
To close your eyes,
To tell yourself that time is nothing
And that this moment is every moment.
Tell yourself that love is real but that people don't exist.
Tell yourself you are asleep.
Tell yourself that only children's dimples are beautiful.
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 8:29 PM UTC
And I am just a fool
In a robe
With a gavel
And the power to take your life away.
And you are just a soul
In a body
In a suit
In a chair
In a court house,
Sweating.
And my mind
Is just matter
Resting in fluid
In a bony shell
Recalling experiences
Generating signals
Connecting synapses,
Speculating the reasons
For your
Poor judgement.
And you
Sit up straight
Back arched
Hands together
Upon your lap
Hair tickling your nose
You won't touch
For hours.
And I
Will make
No
Decision today.
May 12, 2011
May 12, 2011 at 11:36 AM UTC
Bank wide,
Swerve left,
Avoid those open ended statements.
Steer clear,
Of those monumental days,
Of pauses,
Where life decisions are made.
Of sideways glances,
And images stamped
Upon old lover's faces,
Who realize they've fallen out of love.
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 8:10 PM UTC
Disappointments bitter stain,
I feel it eating through positivity,
festering beneath a grumbling tummy,
I feel it,
But I do not want to feel.
I am aware,
But I want to sink down through the covers,
Until the bed sits above me hovering,
And no one knows I'm down here.
No one can watch me,
Judge me,
Dictate what they think,
I must be feeling,
What I must have done to deserve this punishment.
Down here,
I want **** to cold cement floor
Down in the bed's depths.
I want to feel the crumbs between my fingers,
As I maneuver myself into fetal position.
I want to hear each tear resonate as it crashes.
I want it so cold that tears burn my cheeks,
Freeze on the way down,
And cut like glass,
Just so that I can feel my tears are justified.
Mar 17, 2011
Mar 17, 2011 at 8:02 PM UTC