...

Many words already uttered
As the waves of streams
Arranged a garland
with hundreds of colorful flowers

Though I wrote, deleted,cut  
hundred thousands of unspoken words
yet sometimes songs come out
From the melancholy tunes of flute  

That is why the way out of the river
from the springs
you can't read
don't even feel the pain of poetry

So the last poem I write
Sitting on the ground
around the river
.....

Do you know hard it is
To fall face first, stand up,
And show off that toothed grin
To disguise the loosening cluster of bones?

Ivory on ivory,
White horse on white horse
Clenched tightly
While you also struggle to keep
Your elastic lips from snapping
In trying to keep your incisors from falling.

But then there's an ache
On the left hemisphere
Of your itching face
And when you realize what it is
You shut off your vision
With the worn down excuse:

You close your eyes when you smile

But that is also to stop yourself
from flooding your face,
putting weight on that strip of muscle
That prevents your teeth from falling out of place.

we play house.
he makes us coffee
and
i wear his shirts.

we play house.
he drinks his feelings
and
i stare at the ceiling while he sleeps.

we play house*.

Hearing your voice is music to my ears.
Every word is played out into a perfect note creating a soothing instrumental.
I can't wait to feel your voice melodic rhythm. It's like some soft smooth jazz.
Passionately massaging my thoughts settling my weary soul. Ring master taming. Conducting the roaring beast that growls from within the storm.
Governing energy through vibrations that create new life into existence. The sound of your voice, is uplifting. Like music to my ears.

Finger tips, lightly drawn
Across bare skin
In places
Usually hidden

Goose bumps raised
Along with expectations
Stimulations and possible
Permutations

Blood boils
And expands
Filling and raising
Engorging

Electrical impulses
Spark along neurons
As temperatures
Increase

Lubricants and friction
Fight a battle
As other fluids
Are exchanged

Ecstasy reached
In full release
As squeezing and kissing
Reach heights

The sounds and smells
Of fulfillment
Fill the room
Spent and weak

Sick of platitudes,
emotional contusions,
and little white lies.

I’m tired of the ghost;
this minefield of keywords and
it’s all just a game.

I’ve never had a
birthday party and now I’m
too old for magic

Light candles for me,
put a girl inside my cake.
Sing a song for me.

It’s just a party.
I’m just another sad boy.
Just another night.