I always found it to be true what my professor once told me. "You write better when you just let the feelings pour out." This beautiful blank page. We are too familiar with each-other. It knows all my secrets and all my feelings.... It keeps it to its self and and doesn't offer any opinion. The page stares back at me and just listens as i decorate it with my ink. In this ink, in these lines that i create on the page are my true emotions. The emotions that I'm too afraid to show, the emotions that run deep through my mind body and soul. The blank page tells the story of my soul. As long as i have a pencil and a scrap of paper I've no need for anything else, because all I've ever wanted from the beginning was to empty these thoughts that flood my brain.

I lost it all fighting fate, picking up every pretty seashell along the way I had no room left for the beautiful Pearl that was waiting for me to pick it up.
I always ran off ahead of you to get there first when I should have walked along side you and enjoyed the journey.
I can still hear you now, crying out to me. Telling me to slow down.
When you are young and in love there are only two choices; you either make it FAST or you make it LAST.
Walk slowly on the sand.

Falling short is something i know,
Doing wrong is something i do very well.
Never was very affectionate, because i never had that.
Always looked for love in all the wrong places.
Always made friends out of all the wrong faces.
Having it all, losing it all, Missing your calls, fight til we fall.
Thats scary.
It must be hard to love me.
With so many flaws just look at my soul everything just gets ugly.
Please don't be too scared to love me, sometimes at last doesn't come at first.
Suffer with me as we learn life and once i understand how im supposed to live ill make it so you never suffer again.

the lady has me temporarily off the bottle
and now the pecker stands up
better.
however, things change overnight--
instead of listening to Shostakovich and
Mozart through a smeared haze of smoke
the nights change, new
complexities:
we drive to Baskin-Robbins,
31 flavors:
Rocky Road, Bubble Gum, Apricot Ice, Strawberry
Cheesecake, Chocolate Mint...

we park outside and look at icecream
people
a very healthy and satisfied people,
nary a potential suicide in sight
(they probably even vote)
and I tell her
"what if the boys saw me go in there? suppose they
find out I'm going in for a walnut peach sundae?"
"come on, chicken," she laughs and we go in
and stand with the icecream people.
none of them are cursing or threatening
the clerks.
there seem to be no hangovers or
grievances.
I am alarmed at the placid and calm wave
that flows about. I feel like a ***** in a
beauty contest. we finally get our sundaes and
sit in the car and eat them.

I must admit they are quite good. a curious new
world. (all my friends tell me I am looking
better. "you're looking good, man, we thought you
were going to die there for a while...")
--those 4,500 dark nights, the jails, the
hospitals...

and later that night
there is use for the pecker, use for
love, and it is glorious,
long and true,
and afterwards we speak of easy things;
our heads by the open window with the moonlight
looking through, we sleep in each other's
arms.

the icecream people make me feel good,
inside and out.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

Whiskey and wine I'm doing just fine, but how did we get in this bottle.
Sure this is great but it might be to late if we drink this thing down to the bottom.
***** and gin it might be a sin but drinking the drinks what we do.
So we drink and we drink and we throw up in sinks cause we hear that it helps with the blues.
It's like the more my throat burns; the more that I learn new things present and past.
The bottles all done and I've hit the bottom; please pull me out of here fast.

The Sun & The Moon
She and i were like the sun and the moon
She shines bright for the world to see
And i circle the world night and night again longing for warmth.