I'm gonna puke
on the mirror
or on the street puddle
or if I could, on my own frigging eyes.

All that reflects.
I'm gonna puke
on the atmosphere
or on the clear window
or if I could, on my own foul heart.

Why isn't it raining hard?
The clouds
aren't afraid of me?
On them I'm also gonna puke.

ii.

It was a promise;
Not to leave
before you arrive.

I believed.
You didn't.

It wasn't a longing.
If it was, I could
just **** it in a blink.

I waited 'til late;
You overslept.

Why does
fire burn?
What else
does burn?
I'm running out
of---
Let's just put
our heads on.

I got a smile from a guillotine.
It tasted a bit sour but mostly sweet;
A lemon flavored cotton candy ---

Should I say hi or go away?

Cute guillotine at a cute play park;
Why do I have to meet you at this time?
You call it moment, my dear, a destiny ---

So let's go to another vehicle or
let's kiss and become another spectacle or
let's just keep romanticizing each other ----

*O, my dove, my lovely rose;
My dear guillotine! This neck is waiting.

Poetry is a joke
thrown to a cold and stale, small audience
in a theater with filthy curtains
and fishy red seats

No one knows that they are
supposed to laugh

No one cries
Neither one chatters
No one blinks nor sees
They are all silent and blind and dead and
We keep telling jokes they would never hear
*Over and over and over again

Because you'd stayed for a while
Because you'd made my head your favorite place
A library, or a cave, you'd said

The idea of you had completed me
But there's no such thing as a complete library so
I am no longer your favorite

And a cave, I made my head a cave
For you to live in but
You aren't a caveman

Clock ticks
Ink fades

Head heats
(Burning coals pillow)

I wish I could
make you up inside my head

You vanish
(I can't leave this cave)