Her kiss- is all I wish- to feel.
I would love that- a great deal.

11:22, what a beau-tiful,
aesthetically, number!
On this evening- though,
it does, truly, prevoke
this mind to believe that it's time-
for a potent bowl of cannabis
& a very restful slumber.

Enticed by her eyes,
I release a deep, angst sigh.
Oh- my... I'm in love.

Which man is it (hmm?)
who sits there staring, blankly,
at a powerless television set?
Is it me? So, it seems.

Such a silly fool;            
fallen victim to being    
  embraced so gently.

Seventeen minutes
until my favorite show
comes onto my television set:
That should be just enough time
for a nervous breakdown.

On Tinder;
simply to see
whether, or not,
Brandy would swipe
right for me.
It, still, has yet to be..
but a man can dream.

Come home, my queen,
unto the place where the moonlight
attempts to outdo the beauty
of your eyes.
It will never win
  but at least it tries.
Come lavish in the paradise
I have built for the two of us:
our own little enchanted empire.

"It is here, my dear,
   right beneath your nose!
   Heaven knows I have froze-
   the last few winters:
   preparing our fortress,
   awaiting your arrival.
   --
   Will you ever arrive?"

With a flask full of gin,
I think up hymns
about her.
If I am a bird,
she is the nest
that I wish to rest within every night.

Can we, at least, all smile:
embracing the fact that 
life goes on- long- after you 
or I are gone?

Let's enjoy our little while-
in this chaotic place. 

Can we stop being so vile-
to one another over things like
religion and race?
These are such petty circumstances
to extinct your human brethren over.

Am I wrong?

What would you say, if I portrayed -
a thought- no- an image
inside of your brain?

Would you read through
the sorrow and pain?

Would you read on a day
that my originality is, ever, so plain?

Would you read when my words
seem to mesmerize:
the times when I get a twinkle in my eye?

Do not lie.

Would you read
until I, last, say 'goodbye'?

What would you say, if I debate that:

  "all the vile old men in the world-
 are actually children- who have failed
to make amends with the people,
places and things that have hurt them,
way back when" ?

Exchanging silver quarter dollars
for caffeinated water.
Too terribly tired
to attempt to inspire
anyone.

"What's my message,"
   they asked,
"Underneath all your words, masked,
   what do you want them to hear?'

"Well...

Once our atmosphere mirrors
the one upon Mars and-
there's no longer anyone left to sit
& watch the stars...
Even then, shall my heart be in civil wars
with my head.

( The bickering will extend-
      long after I'm dead )

Once we've all left this space,
I'll still remember her face.

& once we all last say 'goodbye,'
I'll still be wishing that her & I -
were once well acquainted.

So, I suppose-
That's what I wish for her to hear...
But, I haven't anything to say."

"Uhm... Okay,"
   they say.

Purchasing Maria
from random strangers downtown;
not a name involved.

I'll buy you a dozen rose-s,
but God only knows
that flowers could never show
how much you mean to me.

As the smoke rises
I find myself falling -
into a deep depression.
Smoking hurts me..
which hurts her -
which hurts me.
Feeling this way is
less than she deserves...

I feel like dirt.

sigh

I wonder if she will resent me
for dying before her?

He writes while lighting a cigarette..

If I were to, endlessly, ramble on,
about everything and nothing..
Would you revise them when I'm gone,
turn my scattered thoughts to songs-
and sing- in the voice of my memories?
Will you, forever, treasure me;
the way I do you?

With eyes so bright
as to dull the, blinding, city lights,
she raced throughout my mind.
It is not entirely clear
why the, mere, sound of her voice
rings like a song, so pleasant with me.
I think, that what it is, I feel
is what the world calls love.
I have no need for these eyes,
if love, truly, is blind.
& I'll let you cut off my ears,
if love needs not hear.
I write all these words
yet, I know it's a curse
because I will always wish
to see & hear her.
She is so vibrant, so kind
& one thing I wouldn't mind
would be spending some time-
growing and withering
with her.

A scarlet liquid dripping-, ever, so gently
  unto the crisp, spring soil
  causes the most faint tapping sound -
  to occur.
   tap
     tap
He feels the life slipping-, ever, so swiftly.
In a puddle of blood, thick as oil,
   he finds himself a comfortable spot
   on the ground- to ensure
   that he doesn't feel the fall.
    tap
      tap
Things become a blur,
  as he smiles: remembering it all.
   The beauty of life, so pure.