I love you.
- I love you too.
- Let's go somewhere else.
- Why?
- Because here it can't get any better.

5 o'clock in the morning,
We're half asleep on the floor.
A conversation that makes no sense,
But to me it might mean more.

a cloudburst, penetrated our world
with thrusts as deep as the eye of our
storm, coasting over us in heaved
passion; unleashed with each
dip and sway

bombarding...

our core in showered felicity; tasting
euphoria's longing, titillated to the tips
of our toes; saturating her soft spots,
her rain and I were one curled, pelvis
to hip

sliding in out as hands caressed in rhythm,
wanting to taste her rain once again;
cultivating in her delicacy, nibbling tautness;
remembering moments our lips said hi

besieging me...

as her raindrops seeped, causing our
steam to rise, each drop in hunger;
I'd delve deeper into oblivion,losing
myself in raged deluges of her

rain's cloudburst...

stacked high at the end of Seventh St
in a darkened alley, as high as seven feet
is a condominium of empty dreams and hope
falling down in the rain, slipping down the *****
home to many of one of the finally lost
coming home, breathing crystals of frost
averaged by the meaning of the total cost
Here, they are no more less, than garbage tossed
stacked high at the end of Seventh St
where home and hearth is just a heartbeat
where a pillow under the head is just concrete
there is nothing less than a lie, a thief or a cheat
and laying on the ground, with nothing to eat
is an act of defiance but the moment is fleet
stacked high the end of Seventh St
in an alley that echoes with the sound of defeat
compressed paper layers become home complete
here lays just one person,
inside his castle of cardboard,
blessing the ****** Mary for his penthouse suite

Entangled in this lost love this
New trust all wrapped in
New lust this gray scale
Between being alone and in love
The enigma I am,
Existing between the borders
Of feeling enough leaning up against that hard line
Marking off space for the insufficients,
Deaf,loners and mutes and
All those awkward adolescents,
Loitering on the far side of sanity.
Any body ostracized for being different than
what ever normal means.
Or those lonley people like me.
your meek and vulnerable,
Dyeing
For something on the other side
I fiddle around somewhere in the middle
Sometimes I’m so sad
And I just don’t cry.
It just wont work
And then when you have me laughing
Side aching gasping
I think of all the little things
And now that I feel safe
I can take a breath,
I want to cry about everything.
What the hell does that mean?
There finely something to feed
the ache in my chest.
I feel livelier I feel brighter
And sadder in the same ways
But I’m like a beacon shining through the broken
Hanging to the notion that broken dreams
Can heal too and when they get together
They can transform like a caterpillar
Into the butterflies in you.
When you smile it’s like a glimpse at a truth
I keep chasing after but have never really seen
Heading contrary to this person I became.
You excite me into being something I am but have never lived
And I’m fighting to see who she is
I’m pinning myself against the answers to the questions
About who this new person really is.
And wondering the part in it you will play,
Kicking my self for my uncertainty in the claim
Of being broken or brave
At this silent admission of my wanting you to stay.

if you'd like,
we could play pretend-
i'd be sylvia plath, if you'd
be my modern-day
cummings;

we can meet in
the coffee shop on
forty-eighth and first
and talk about suicide
over tall cups of coffee
that taste like your grandfather's cigars

and when neither of us are
up for walking
we'll go out to the park
and sit
on the bench by the pond
and hold hands

(i won't really feel your fingers by mine
until they become
sticky with sweat; we'll look at each other
and realize it doesn't mean a thing
to either
except for maybe the first attempt on both parts
to not feel so alone)

when the sun sets,
i'll cry
and not have an answer
when you ask for one.

It's weird what goes on
behind these "simple" eyelids--
the thoughts and the urges
I simply cannot control

In one moment, I feel like
cleaning my desk, my vanity, my life--
next I am moving in a fluid dance,
and every object has it's place so
please
don't touch my pile--
just watch as I rearrange
the makeup and bracelets,
don't speak as I shift the contents
into a perfectly patterned formula.

Don't look as I starve myself raw
let me tear up inside and tango
with the devil - once dormant - parading my soul.
everything's just a means of control.

And then there's the highs, like one
speedy night,
where the right words escape me, yet I
never shut up.
they roll on out
and with the drop of my tongue,
the tragic downs
shred the place where my hope once hung

The world is distorted--
all senses curved and
odd thoughts odd actions--
when there's more than
one of you
inside