Some nights
holding on to your words
feels like i'm losing grip of me

A part of me just hates you
For who you are and what you've done
But then again it's not your fault
Cause you aren't the only one

In the end I've realized
I'm just a little insane
But is that such a bad thing
When you are screaming my name?

So love me please
Or hate me more
Stay forever my dear,
Otherwise--- there's the door.

Now I notice
how your eyes burn
blowtorch-blue
when you look at love
looking back at you.

they could cut
through iron bars;
set free
the wish to settle down,
caged within men like me.

I cannot tell you I love you,
cannot let you know what you mean to me
because it will only make it harder for me to leave,
cannot give you the burden of my last sentiments,
cannot curse you without your consent
and God forbid you say it back,
God forbid you shorten the list of things this place lacks,
I just want to go,
want to get out of here on my own,
want to spoil my own reputation
so you will not curse the earth for my disintegration,
I cannot leave you with anything to miss,
cannot let you regret the moments we did not kiss,
I cannot tell you I love you.

I think about her naked sometimes
I probably think about it
because I doubt she would give me the satisfaction
of touching her in the heat of passion
so it’s just easier for me to imagine
walking in on her in the bath, drinking a glass of red
maybe cabernet sauvignon, who knows, who cares?
a light steam rising off the foamy suds
they cover only what I want to see
even in my fantasies I like to be teased
she is calm
as though she left the door unlocked intentionally
waiting like a painting in a gallery for me to clumsily stumble in
and find her beautifully sprawled in a Victorian tub with copper clawfeet
painted wet-on-wet like a portrait by John Singer Sargent
her milky blue and marble eyes soften my will like whiskey
and I find myself kneeling beside the bath
my hand gently trembles as it glide against satin velvet skin

I drip the way condensation does
down ice cold beer in a TV commercial
when she looks at me.
I'm soaking up cardboard coasters,
sweating labels off bottles
until she wraps her hands around me again,
kissing me with those flower petal like lips,
drinking me all in.

I know I'm not what she needs
but right now I'm what she wants.
Not to stroke my own ego
but I am a good time,
I'll get you to undo that top button
even make you laugh
and maybe, just maybe
I'll even get you to dance
but no matter what I promise
or what I deliver,
I know at the end of the day
when the fun is done
and the headaches fade,
I am poison.
And when she's had too much of me
I'll make her sick.
***** spit in bathroom sinks
because she's too beautiful
to have her head in the toilet.

I'm the answer to feeling sad,
I'm the easy late night phone call
that never goes unanswered
but I am not the man
she marries, no not at all
because as sweet as I taste
or as gently as she may kiss my face
I am going to disappoint her.
The way I have disappointed
all the others before her.