I’m just making myself do this
And I’m not sure why
I guess it could be beneficial
Sometimes it is
But sometimes it isn’t
The fleeting nature of the majority of my feelings
Is a constant and nagging concern
I fall in love with most things the way
I do with poetry and women
The fall is violent
Exhilarating
Exhausting
The passion and excitement of the fall
become inseparably intertwined with the reality of my daily experience
Enveloping me
minute by minute
and dominating my thoughts
my actions
I am Neruda
Until I begin to sober up
I continue to drink both in
With the ferocity of an alcoholic
So the source of this sobriety eludes me
Perhaps the beauty of women and the beauty of Poetry are fleeting by nature
Making their brief ecstasy all the more powerful
Perhaps the sudden disinterest reflects
On my character
But, there is no time for these thoughts
Because for now I am in love
With her
And with Poetry
And I want to enjoy the fall

Blue eyes,
               disguised,
by scattered specks of green.

Red hair,
             compared,
to a lion's messy mane.

Pale skin,
              unhinged,
from a fury of freckles.

Strong voice,
                    rejoiced,
with wonder, will, and wistfulness.

Gentle heart,
                    apart,
from pain in his past.

Rough hands,
                      demand,
his lover's hand to hold.

Soft lips,
             kissed,
by his one and only,
                                 me.

So serene, so blissful…
So pacific, so liberating…
The only sounds that drench my ear-
The drops of rain,
The gush of the wind,
The flow of the river,
And, the sound of me, breathing.

Better for bad love to crumble
Than to make a bigger mistake
As most do
I'm most

picking and scratching
my skin bleeding
the scars all over remind me of certain times in my life
when the stress got too much to handle and I sat in the bathroom for hours
destroying the body that was given to me
burning down my humble abode
just picking and scratching away at my sanity
which I'm not sure I ever really had
the scars that I get comments on daily
'Did you try to hurt yourself?'
'Are you alright?'
'Are you being abused or unsupervised?'
no answer really just staring at them;
whilst picking at my scabs in that blissful agony that I love to feel