Sometimes
it is
easier
to let
your
demons
ravage you
from the
inside
than
open
your mouth
and
release them
onto
another.

Freedom to live,
freedom to die,
freedom american,
or fredom un-american.
Live as you like,
be as you like,
as all should be,
be as all should be.

Freedom is an act,
and love is no peace.
Live forever, die forever.

They call me expatriate,
and I go on living.
They say I should die,
and I go on living.

Freedom to live,
freedom to die,
I sigh,
I recoil,
"ah, must be a lie".

Freedom is no number,
death is no song.
Life is no art,
words are no truth.

Freedom is yours,
and freedom is mine.
No flag,
no country,
no truth.
Freedom is no lie.

(20 minute poetry)

On the tube
she can slick it
lipstick all over
and already at
Westminster bridge.

If only she'd stayed to
play with the shadow
of the
girl she once was.

Everything's fast and not built
to last
I never faked
it was take it or leave me
if only the odds were reversed

and though I rehearsed it
I couldn't quite make it
if only she'd waited some more.

It is now
done and dusted
I was
caught and was busted,
trust no one was what mother said.

Somewhere interstellar she wakes and I tell her
I love her, but
she's heard it before
and
doesn't want to hear it no more,

I am silenced by the stars that I count.

"i'm proud of you."
the twisting, brilliant tendrils of your words
are tied around my ribs

what hurt was the paralyzing sting
of the bottomless ocean of reality
drenching the bonfires
that had blinded my heart
for years, linked together
by your pouring of gasoline

our love was unromantic
and while we didn't honeymoon in venice
my blood still
pumps through smoking embers

all we have between us are memories
all we will ever have between us is memories
and the weight of my forgetful mind
will not relent in constricting my lungs

your marble column legs
held me upright
and i'll be ******
because this earthquake
lead to my collapse

a note to you:
nobody knows me here.
i am drained.
i am nobody to be proud of.

I want to write you a song,
A sonnet,
A prose.
A sweet little nothing
That everyone knows.

I've tried to take others,
A common love song.
But they weren't for you,
No.
They were all wrong.

I wanted it to be special,
To be different,
Unique.
I wanted to make
Your knees feel weak.

But nothing was working.
Nothing was right.
I was ready for failure,
To give up the fight.

But then you stopped by
And took my hand in yours.
You smiled,
You winked,
You helped with the chores.

You calmed all my nerves,
With one thoughtless look.
And that was the moment
That my heart
You took.

There's no way to explain it,
No words to display,
The way that I felt
When you took
My breath
Away.

So I can't write you a prose,
Or a sonnet,
Or song.
Nothing can explain
That with you
I belong.