in december we break
it's traditional
learned patterns in history class,
there's no nice way to feign affection for
some stupid foreign love
you do it so well
by and by, i'd rather write about you as i
ignore your calls, watching you miss me
from afar,
is a hobby.
its traditional.
to bleed or to bottle up: i shout too often
even though you're gone, i smoke too frequently
every lavender vanilla latte sings your name,
all your love, the vigor forgotten
maybe we'll drown our sins, you'll pick up pieces,
but the puzzle is always ******

(the most thought-provoking thing in the world is a soul--)

skin cracks
mud ***** on his feet
shuffles when he moves
barely hanging on
so thin

dry, rough
the skin breaks
but does not bleed

he is rusty
flakes off slowly

he could tell me that he's gone mad
that it's a slow and painful way to go
could say he cannot handle the itch
drives him to hysteria
can't i take him out of his misery

and i would,
but i won't

(that is not dying,
but growing)

Over the buildings and through the trees,
Under the bridges, and overseas.
Trapped in bushes and stuck on streets,
Wind pushes it with sudden beats.
From town to town city to city,
It floats with bliss and sits with pity.
All through the day it flies high,
And all through the night it passes me by.
Left and right there it goes,
Up and down row by rows.
When the day dims down to rest,
The little bag keeps going to continue his quest.

Compassion the last one that enters the room
A key trait that isn't groomed
A true character the teachers don't teach
A pure thing that leaches won't leach
Compassion the leader to happiness
The follower of sorrow
Compassion something you can't barrow - d.j. Turner

i have an itch on my heart
i can't get to
unless i write about you.

people say we won't always wear smiles
i wonder why they think we can no longer afford them
who do they think they are
predicting the future like that.

i will not let myself be swept away in the winds of human nature
am i not more than a rock that is weathered and shaped with time?

i have my will
- to adore you, kiss you, feed your soul, wrap you in my own skin and call you home.
you have yours
- to make me feel valued, cherished, loved, happy, touch me in ways that no one else has
God has His.
- to make us happy.

and if we are His children,
are we not creators, too?
coaxers of smiles.
forgers of forgiveness in the fires of tragedy and heartbreak.
carpenters of karma.
what we say and do will follow us throughout existence.

we do not have to fit the mold of the world
although, you've always told me i would still be beautiful even if i was round
even if i went round the continents and stayed away for a very long time

you told me i would still be your "Jenny"
and i believe you

because we are creators
doers
masters of our fate.

i will love you until the holes in my socks stretch wide enough to be a ski mask
and even in our poverty i will slip them off and go to bed with you

you will always find a safe place here.

sick sally ran against
natural cures like cannabis
but she agreed to meet
a dealer in the street
and she got hit by an ambulance

there once was a girl,very fair,
who seduced a man with her stare
they hugged and kissed
then his friends got ******
and she "tripped" down some stairs