Moonlit face
starry eyes
poets are out-of-place
they tell lies-

love is bliss
its abode is paradise
no--it's often amiss
harbinger of grievous sighs.

She has this place where she goes
  when she needs to be all alone.
        She calls it her place,
a place where the hurts of the world
       quiet down and fade away.
                                                
A place of beauty, where her fingertips
can paint over all the wrong
and all the pain she feels
in colors bright and cheery.

It’s a place of peace, where the fears
        of her heart slow and still…
  A place of calm, where the oceans
       of emotions lay at her feet
            and weep no more.

It’s a place where she can breathe,
where she feels sheltered, protected
from the coldness outside
of her canopy of shade… It’s her place.

                  She went to her place…..
                     ……she visits very often...

I drink delightfully the cold,
Like the wine, some centuries old

fickle minded hearts with angel halos above their heads / mouths dripping with the taste of cherry soda, vanilla and smoke / words are knives that slice through your head / and i warn you /

do not fall in love with a writer.

dead poet boys, art obsessed hoes with handstrokes syncing in the rhythym of a ****** battle / girls who became queens and all your we-could've-beens / these are the people who writes your name in white paper sheets / like infants with their toys.

do not fall in love with a writer.

they will paint you as a god / as a saviour / as a holy man / apricot kisses making you feel lighter / black ink impulse to remind you / that you are their lover /

for ****'s sake / do not fall in love with a writer.

they will make you the most beautiful human being that ever existed / until you can't stomach their vision anymore / you will get tired of them / they will get tired of worshipping you /

do not fall in love with a writer.

they let you see stars with your eyelids close / you're all over them because you are the cow and they are the moon / spilled milk, warm, slick and razor etches heart sick /  let me tell you /

do not fall in love with a writer.

just let them trace your outline for their plot because god you're hot / but you can't help yourself /

i said, do not fall in love with a writer.

you read their prose and you impose / break their trust / your love crumbles to dust / they made you feel alive / made you human / and you hate humanity / they made you love in forms of metric veins in your blood / god you should've believed me /

do not fall in love with a writer.

they will become obsess with the version they have dressed / mistakes erased like the cold november wind passed by a frozen lake /  meanwhile you fall in love with their quirks / they plan to be perfect–

do not fall in love with a writer!

and maybe they are perfect and you are their defect or vice versa / trembling fingers flick the beat of your aching heart / oh you feel torn to be apart /  let your molten gold and honey blood seep into the carpet / let them lick your feet / do not leave /

but your soul has departed /

i told you so / do not fall in love with a writer —

          do not fall in love with me.

I can't eat Ramen.
Which *****, cuz I love Ramen!
The broth is so good!


Curley fries are great.
They're better than normal fries.
Nobody knows why.


DVD's aren't dead.
I like the commentary.
That's why I buy them.


Thesauruses help,
But is using them cheating?
I will never know.


Okay, I'm done now.
Seriously, you can go.
They're just dumb haikus!

Going out with thy ecstatic rile,
Sun soaked cherubic smile,
You impale my ziel senile,
I slay a thousand miles
To meet ya' at Zion's isles....

It is too late in life
for me to join the night
and be a beautifully brooding poet.

It is too far down the line
and I am too rigid in my mind
to be open to that world.

So, I come to the open mich to speak,
breath and read my carefully crafted masterpiece
just so I can have the pleasure
of finishing up and leaving when I please.

Black circles darken my eye.
There are notes to play,
but my vocal cords are cut,
and I am drowning in
a steaming pile of
my own guts.

The clouds, the wind, the sky...
Everything is something you can never buy

The stars, the moon and the sea...
They await to hear your plea

The flowers, gold fish and music...
brings you smile when you're sick

The moments when you're sober...
Think of them
You'll be calm
Yet, sober again
Because Sobriety is an addiction.