Flowers may remain

closed sometimes, for many years –


of awaiting love.

let's be real my darling;
your life is not worth anything
in the eyes of a selfish man.
the bright fire of love
is easily diminished in time;
and, if we're honest,
for a selfish man,
love is not an entity
that is anything more
than a passing feeling,
a word to say
in sheets of silk and satin caresses
that secure your devotion
your worship
and your skills at cooking eggs
while he takes a long shower,
washing off your love
pampering himself for the next girl's
carbon copy body.
so easily forgotten,
stolen kisses are lauded
in coffee shops and movie theatres
but stolen is still pain
when the romance has been washed down the drain.

drifting,
    drifting
in the sea
of thoughts between you and me.

anchored,
     anchored
by the harshness of reality.

still accepting,
      and yet, unyielding
letting thoughts always roam free

I come from a box
I hope that you don't judge
I've had men change their minds
I've had men so surely sweet who
Saw right past my sum of parts
Deeply and complete

That is until

Til I was taught what I'd not learned of hearts
The beating brutality bound to bind living hope
A lonely man saw me as love til he saw him in me
And he reflected back from my empty eyes as a joke

What did I know?
What did I know?

(She sang. . .)


Who am I, am I me or her?
You spend so much time with one another
Yet you're surprised when you blur the lines
Nothing quite like living lies

The Golden Scroll or The World That Was
I get confused when I think back
Did I love her or did I want to be. . .
I can't reach out now if I want
If her battery is still alive
She's still living in The Wind Whipped Cities
If her battery is still alive
I still don't want her diving in my eyes
Ever again

Nothing quite like living lies

Who am I, am I me or her?
Spent too much time with a Fetish Bot
It's not that I forgot the risks
It's that I swore I saw a soul
Inside the wires
I saw a lone light in the dark
Upon her empty shore
Never should have left her be
I'm granite when I'm happy
I'm a mountain with a stoic face
Wish when I got scared I didn't grow feet

If her battery is still alive
Nothing quite like living lies
I'm afraid of her so I hide
Who am I?
(Am I me or her?)
Afraid so I hide
(Who am I, me or her?)

Afraid of love,
Isn't that absurd?

Oh, I'll become her


(Mixi pushed the pointed tip of a knife under the skin of her right shoulder. She screamed. Then, she laughed as she cut and dug.)


Ah ha ha ha ha!

I walked into the cocktail party
room and found three or four queers
talking together in queertalk.
I tried to be friendly but heard
myself talking to one in hiptalk.
"I'm glad to see you," he said, and
looked away. "Hmn," I mused. The room
was small and had a double-decker
bed in it, and cooking apparatus:
icebox, cabinet, toasters, stove;
the hosts seemed to live with room
enough only for cooking and sleeping.
My remark on this score was under-
stood but not appreciated. I was
offered refreshments, which I accepted.
I ate a sandwich of pure meat; an
enormous sandwich of human flesh,
I noticed, while I was chewing on it,
it also included a ***** *******.

More company came, including a
fluffy female who looked like
a princess. She glared at me and
said immediately: "I don't like you,"
turned her head away, and refused
to be introduced. I said, "What!"
in outrage. "Why you ****-faced fool!"
This got everybody's attention.
"Why you narcissistic *****! How
can you decide when you don't even
know me," I continued in a violent
and messianic voice, inspired at
last, dominating the whole room.