One day you’ll get tired of me.
The chase will me done,
I won’t tag and run
for the chase is over and won.

I feel your arm around me,
like the skin in my teeth
the cold sheets beneath
and the water just out of my reach.

Is it only to me you share this laugh?
Brighten your smile,
just for a while—
ignore the taste of bile!

When you done with tag you’ll toss me aside,
but my heart flutters,
soaked breath stutters,
And my exhale mutters—

“I’ll love you when I’m sober.”

There lived a man on the corner,
he was old and grey.
I smiled as I walked
past his box every day,

but he was no drunk!
Not a cigarette in his beard.
His hand soft as most rocks—
unable to be feared.

I offered him a home,
a roof and a treat
but he kindly declined—
firmly planted in seat.

I asked him one morning—
I had nowhere to be—
I asked him “why be hungry
when you can eat for free?”

He smiled to me,
teeth on perfect shelves—
He said “to prove I will always
be able to do it myself.”

He said to me
“kid, handouts can please
but when the weather gets warm,
watch how they flee”

“Wanna know why I’m here?
I could’ve built a house alone.
Now I’m too old to chop the wood,
so not on my own...

I would never live there—
not even a day.
If I didnt earn it,
I could never stay”

He laughed to himself,
hearty chuckle turned cough,
“be tough as hell, kid.
Kindness makes you soft.”

If you knew I was coming,
you should’ve run faster.

I’m using your gun
so you know that it works...

Bring the bad guy foreword!
I’ll always right behind

soft as snow—
she kissed me,
with a heat to melt
the world twice over.

we’ve been chasing the
forever setting sunlight
since it rose the once,

can we please rest now?
take a long seat in the moss..
get dissolved again

Sometimes somethings **** sometimes,
sometimes somethings **** all the time.
When nothing ***** though,
that’s when it all hits you.

When nothing ***** what do we do?
We ponder life? Write ****** poems?
When nothing ***** we make other things
**** to stay entertained, I guess...  

Maybe we should let some things ****,
not really bad things—
but just enough
so it doesn’t ruin everything else.

You’ve left me
as empty as that pit,

why not
fill both up at once?

Efficient both in life
and death,