In fact they will stop on rainy street corners
To read us behind glass black and white
Televisions flickering
They laugh at us and toss cigarette butts
Getting into taxis
Off to some important date
In old gilded hotel lobbies
But on the rainy street
Our poetry is lost
'Neath the hustle and buss
Of their everyday feet

silence can be a beautiful thing
when it blankets the cold
of a kitchen floor;
(there is something lovely
about the lines of your hands
and the peculiar smile that
plays at your lips
when you can not voice
what you need to speak)

you whispered to me
        -it's amazing how much
        you can say
        without words-
in the quiet, i
could not help but tell you
i love you
a thousand times over.

i am beginning to wonder when i started finding
imperfections so beautiful

maybe it was when i decided
i would never be perfect,
and that the only way i could look at myself in the mirror
was if i started with the ugly scars on my ankle
and made my way up slowly
past my knobby knees,
prominent hip bones,
too-small chest,
pointy nose,
until i looked myself in the
eyes,
taking in every abnormality or distinct deficiency
until i could convince myself they were unique enough
to be considered in someone else's eyes
"pretty"

i began doing the same thing with everyone else,
turning their flaws into something charming
so much
so that when i came across you,
i didn't have to think about it-
i knew from the start that you would be
perfect.

I'm ready for the sea
I will dissolve in the blue
Waves tumble me apart
I laugh at the pain I
Once felt and the
Way I once tried to
Put everything I am on the head of a needle
They gawk at me and laugh
Scientist poke me with their
Sterile stainless steel Instruments asking
Each other "what's an existence?"
I try to explain with words but
A blue bird is caught in my throat
Its beak poking the roof of my mouth
It climbs out past my teeth
It jumps and ***** around the white room
Whistling out an ancient tune
Circling once above our heads
Then out the open window

In the dark parking lot I stand leaned against the car
Smoking cigarettes as I wait for the lights to flick off
Then exactly forty 5 seconds later
The lights flicker once again
In her window
My heart is a crescendo
Of mad mad laughter
Two minutes later on the dot
I am walking up with my coat in my arms
And she whistles down at me from the stone wall. She drops
Momentarily her white hospital gown catches
Revealing the pale skin laced with razor blade spider web cuts
Blue and black bruises finger-shaped beneath her small breast
Then she is in my arms again her chest is heaving as she embraces me
Holding me tightly her bare feet on the cold wet pavement
I feel whole again
I give her my coat and we get into the car
Her laugh and smile hysterical
Mirrored in her eyes
We speed away
Finally off the meds
She asks for a cigarette
She checks the rear-view
"Something is chasing me." She says

4:17 AM
Robbie's studying Japanese
and cooking bacon

I'm not saying
I'm in love
w/you
except
I am.

waiting for Jina;
can't write poems
till he comes back