Love is one cross word away from -
the unforgivable , friendship laughable at best ,
your a marionette at desires behest , a piece
of rotten meat with vultures flying overhead ,
a dough ball in a bream bed , an exhausted rabbit in the dog pen
We lust for mates fully aware that our hand will do the trick , like wolves in heat , rain striking the hot street turned to steam , called again by clouds for the repeat
An encore of voracious gender neutral toys and ******
A S'more on a stick at the crossroad of fire or teeth* ...

Something in the house is walking up
behind me , an appliance feinting footsteps ,
a ceiling fan quickening skin , something
tumbling in the wind , another nighttime
without end* ...

Rise up from poverty
Get off of those streets
There is nothing but uncertainty
You never know the predicament that you may meet
Take back your life
Move towards the light
Get out of the darkness
And make your life bright

I always struggle with writers block the worst
right after writing something I
actually like...
I think it's that I've raised the bar
One step higher for myself, and  
I already know that in order to climb up even higher
I'm going to have to face another horde of disappointment.
That looming obstacle dulls the shine
that writing usually makes me feel inside,
but still it's only a matter time
Because to me
Poetry is like the rising sun.

Like oil in my throat
you burn me,
I'm your comfort food
so consume me
until you're fine again.

Tug on my breath
just when you're out of it,
Your intentions I've undressed,
Your disguise is naked now,
Save yourself somehow.