One night when we were sweaty
and exhausted
I claimed that the sun rose from your *******
and set between your legs
"You sound just like a poet," you crooned
What do you know about poetry?
"Nothing, but I know you"
You don't know me for ****. No one knows
each other.
Just what they're allowed to see. I could
write you
a sonnet
beautiful and verbose
and still hate every fiber of you
"And I could hate you
and your talking,
but ******* every night"

Fair enough, i thought.
You could.

Lost on a rickety float
amidst a sea
of friends and strangers alike,
battered constant,
time loses meaning.
All that exists -
the crashing of waves.

On we float and bob
and sink
and consider ourselves lucky
just for not having drowned
in the crashing of waves.

We are stuck
treading alone,
having no one - yet everyone
to hold onto through

The crashing of waves

has corroded my mind filling
the crooks and crevices
of a once pure life -
So I drown, finally
under the crashing of waves.

In some way,

behind closed doors,

We are beautiful

And We bloom like flowers

In the dark of night,

but the sun rises

as it always does 
and we wilt and 
drop

like leaves in Autumn

desperately awaiting

our pitch black Spring.

Her hair was golden
and she blew beauty
out of the water
and I met Her alone
somewhere,
some place,
who knows?
But I fell like a dove
with clipped
wings, into
the expanse of Her.

Let me drown.

from my bed
I watch
3 birds
on a telephone
wire.

one flies
off.
then
another.

one is left,
then
it too
is gone.

my typewriter is
tombstone
still.

and I am
reduced to bird
watching.

just thought I'd
let you
know,
******.