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Suspension of disbelief is a
lifetime companion; the kind that
is always by the phone, waiting
for my number to light the caller id.

It’s with me whenever I can’t explain
my own motivations - especially
times like now.

That I should desire a man so far
from prime is confounding,
but the course grit of your cheek
on my neck robs my brain of thought.

You are equally perplexed by me -
the youth you crave, wanting nothing
from you, save for the passion of
your latin bravado.

Baby, I’m a man.

Give me… buy me… words that will
never part my lips, least of all
for you.

Please, don’t diminish me.

My life belongs to the gods of
nine to five and I don’t need a daddy.
I saw her in an arts district tavern -
a simple pub of lesser classes;
not her people, yet there she was -
absently finger ******* her Iphone
with a sea breeze before her.

Her overwhelmingly basic presence
soured my bourbon with unpleasant
notes of disdain, but this city is free,
I suppose, and this beverly-belle
is free to foul whatever air she pleases;
just as I am to limit my tolerance
to those of my own station.

So, paying my tab, and boarding
the Metro , I retreated to my skid row hovel
where I continued to drink until
shadows blurred with tilting earth,
and my body sunk into carpet stained
with god-knows-what.

Not the place I dreamed of, but
at least I know where my place is.
I felt that I should give a small explanation for this. My father was a heavy alcoholic, so I often got to witnesses first hand how the substance can distort the mind and inspire blind hatred. The "I" in this poem is loosely based on him.
I like my coffee
The same way I like my men;
I don't drink coffee.
These walls are sacred -
here in my solitude,
coating my mind
with toxic glaze,
staring at the void
through smoky haze,
thinking nothing
for the world outside.

My vain sacrifice
come to fruition -
yielding a river
of poisonous slurry;
would leave it's banks
but vision is too blurry
so, hear I sit
holding the oath
I swore to the shadows
of my mind.
All is gone!!
Wind, sun,
flowers, trees -
Day and night are one,
and summer is cold as winter.
life has been consumed
in growing flames that give no light.
There is no light.
Darkness has fallen
while i sit alone,
maddened by deafening silence.
When you told me you loved me,
I packed your words into a syringe
and injected them into my vein.
They traveled through my blood
into my heart,
my brain,
filling my body with joy;
my senses numb
to the world outside of us.
High on us,
high on your words,
but that high was gone as quickly
as you were.
It seems that I am liked by none
It seems I’m not worthwhile.
Maybe I would be more fun
If I would only smile.

Maybe I could change my style,
Though, I'm not a cheerful son
But with all my craft and guile
I could make you think I’m one.

Maybe I could make this fun
And go the extra mile;
Skills and graces overdone
And sell them with a smile.

I could always force a smile
As I face the social gun
A bright one made from my denial
Oh! What social fun!

Depression hidden from the sun
And growing all the while
Until I almost come undone
But I’m ok, so smile.

Maybe that could last a while
Or it may soon be done
If I were to force a smile
I fear that would fool none.

But I’ll say this and then I’ll run
Most times I don’t want to smile
But tell me, if I forced one,
Would I be worth your while?
A very old poem from my youth
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