I think that I've become the one
who's every choice brings pain
who's every adventure ended in other's tears
who's every action cost other's dearly

I think I've been the one to load the gun
that always craved more and never learned to refrain
that made the night times turn cold and bring in fears
who's lied in every word spoken clearly

I think I've become the boy
who takes but never gives of himself
who wants the world for his toy
and drinks it down to his own health

I think I made this bed where I lie
and made it feel unloving to hold my hand
I watched so many suffer in tears as they cried
and I listened with no intention to ever understand


I think I broke the skin with my kiss
and stole the prized things they'd miss
I think I said I cared then let them slit their wrists
and I created this

the world stopped loving me
they all stopped loving me
they all saw through the guise and learned to hate the mayhem
and no one can blame them


I think that I've choked all lasting love dead
and poured bitter ink in all the wine
I think I've left stains with everything I've said
eaten all the fruit and killed the vine

I think I sold their affections for things that shine
I think I've smashed my own glass walls
I think I'm about to suffer the cost of selfish crimes
and see that I'm left with nothing at all


I think I bled them dry chasing a bliss
and touched the soft with a crippling fist
I think I promised but never cared of promises missed
and I created this

they all stopped loving me
my world stopped loving me
they all chocked for the last time on my poisoned mayhem
and no one can blame them

This is not an angsty teenage poem
of love lost in that moment when you realized you wern't the exception
This isn't the story of love found over a cup of coffee
This is the poem for those who cannot speak
afraid of the havoc their words will wreak
the voices that tell stories worth sharing
wanting to be set free
to see light
to scream
Those who sit in fear
of not being believed
and for those who's name they'll never speak
The star athlete
the man down the street
the man in the corner of the bar
their best friends brother,  in his car.
this is a poem for those who shed tears and wish they were layers of skin
this is the poem for words unspoken
for those who wish that all they lost was love
for those who's tongue's gone numb
for those who wish this was an angsty teenage poem.

I held out my hands.
I placed a drop of soap on each palm
and took hold of my ***** spoon and washed it with my hands,
cupping and spooning it
like my gentle hands were trying to make it croon.
Like it were mated and flipped and slapped
against threadbare slacks.

That spoon is cleaning me,
is washing my hands as I wash its tarnished feet,
it is forgiving me.
For the scalding soups and bitter ice cream,
and not washing it but watching it grow crusted, disgusted.

And while I swoon for my spoon,
and grinning the spinning dizzy grin of Love,
I remember, and give thanks for my feast.
This spoon feeds me like a child on Mother God’s lap,
and kisses me with life, with food.

This soap, and my hands, and this bubbling love between my spoon and I,
it is clean.
My soul is more clean with my spoon.
Cleaner than dog’s saliva licking at old wounds,
but that’s alright,
cause everybody knows ******* love scars, dog.

And women love beautiful spoons,
maybe because of its viscosity, or its gentle curvature,
or the deep loving laugh it invokes,
when it sits on my nose.

My spoon communion left me with pruned hands,
bright eyes,
and a coy smile for what flowers in my mind may bloom.

Once upon a time in an alternate universe not too long ago
I met the cheekiest babe from the other side of the world.
She went by Smurfette, she loved to call me Papa Smurf
and Vanity wasn’t gay, the ******* just loved himself too much.

She always sat by the window, detoxicating herself of verses
cranking out a few lyrics, scoping the city in the trenches.
Of the love we waged never wavering and waving a white flag
“I’m gonna put you to bed” were all our wars went to die.

But I was more than alive, inside the land from down under
called her Daphne the Nymph, the voluptuous Greek Goddess.
Wanted to raise little Koalas together in our Kangaroo farm
in every kiss we traded souls, in every breath we lost our lives.

And we gained them again back when the Jitneys were blue
our sweat-drenched bodies overtaken by some strange voodoo.
Every ship we embarked on was lost in the Atlantic without return
James Bean captained our vessel, holding it together with crazy glue.

In New York City locked lips inside a phone booth, it was euphoria
she was already born a Queen since she hailed from Astoria.
Our Bohemian Rhapsody blended like Cheech & Chong on a ******
her pouty lips, ****** smile, five years later how can I forget her?

Her voice, beautiful sparrow, vocal chords stone carved like no other
and yet normally speaking she sounded like the Crocodile Hunter
Soaked the landscape of her essence, remembrance without a beat
the song she wrote about us, plays in my heart eternally on repeat.

Janice watched
as you held on
to the ledge
of the ice-cream van

to see how long
you could hold on
in that dare game
the boys played

in the Square
and after
you jumped off
she said

isn’t that dangerous?
sure it is
you replied
that’s the point

to see how long
you can hold on
without falling
and getting hurt

she looked at you
and said
if Gran saw me
doing that

she’d tan
my behind
ah
you said

that’s it
not to be seen
by those grown ups
and spoilsports

she raised
her eyebrows
and said
maybe

but it’s not for me
and so you took her hand
and went along
through the Square

and across Bath Terrace
and into Jail Park
to the swings
and slides

and such things
and you grabbed
a swing each
and pushed off

and you looked at her
beside you
her hair flowing
in the wind

her dress billowing
as the wind caught it
and you said
how high can you go?

high as I can
she said
and she pushed
her legs out

and then under
the seat of the swing
getting the rhythm right
getting the swing

to go higher
and higher
and you did likewise
and you watched

as her whole body
got into the ride
and her hands gripped
the metal chains

and you saw
her legs rise high
and her brown sandals
and white socks

and she said
is this high enough?
and you said
as high as high

can go is high
and she laughed
and pushed her feet
right up into the sky

and you pushed through
the aches and pains
of the muscles
to reach the highest pinnacle

and she gazed at you and laughed
and there was that moment
when you thought
you saw new stars

being born in her smile
but then she slowed down
and the new stars
died out after a while.