I.

My teachers tell me
(Cockeyed and smirking)
That my looks
Can be deceiving.

Bastos ka pala?

And they're not wrong.

Disrobe me, and
You will find

**** and ash
Running up my veins,

Unvirgin pupils
Lapping up
Every last drop
Of that
***** joke.

II.

Oh, how the rain falls!

Naked

Found naked on the streets,
cuffs on my hands and feet.
They wouldn't give me any clothes,
couldn't even pick my own **** nose.
Walked naked to the police station,
two miles of total frustration.
One hour of pure hell,
I'm hot, sticky and I really smell.
People laughing from their front yard,
I looked like an unstable ******.
***** bouncing left to right,
my big ***** should be held every night.
***** flopping up and down,
not even sure the name of the town.
They don't even give me reason,
maybe it's naked man in street season.
Police station filled with reporters,
my ***** has never been shorter.
Hundreds of flashes before my eyes,
I see my mom, nervous as she cries.
I was arrested for **** street sleeping,
millions of people are now peeping.
I got booked and thrown in the slammer,
somebody please, hit my head with a hammer.
They actually even threw away the key,
how dare they do this to someone like me.
Don't they know who I am,
this must be some kind of sham.
I'm only the most famous man in America,
not some cheap imitation replica.
I hope no one gives me an Allen *****,
then I won't know what to do.
No phone call or allowed any bail,
looks like I'm stuck in this ****** jail.
After a week I was finally let go,
I was the star of some sick reality show.

Tonight,
in the words of Neruda,
I can write the saddest lines.
Tonight I write the saddest lines,
all for you.
And it will be painful
and tear-stained,
but honest.
I will pour my heart into this page,
for you,
and you will take my innermost thoughts tonight.
But you must know,
darling boy,
that this will be the last words I spill for you,
the last drunken night I allow you into my creative soul.
This will be the end of this,
of us,
of you and me.
Never again will I write for you love stories, or sad words.

I used to think that if given the chance,
or given the time,
I could write a thousand lines on the way
your breath felt against my bare back.
I could write infinite lines on the way
your fingertips electrified my lips,
and still have more to say.
I could write forever on the way I loved you,
Loved you entirely and hopelessly,
how I ached for you.
And I used to see you everywhere,
in the faces I passed
and the lopsided smiles of strangers.
I used to drive past you in every beat up pick up truck
on the streets of Columbus,
behind every backwards hat.
But my darling,
it's been awhile since I've seen you,
and I can't remember what your fingertips felt like anymore.
I used to close my eyes and be able to trace your features,
for they had been etched into the walls of my mind.
And I used to feel this emptiness in my chest,
because I had placed my heart in your hands,
whether you had wanted it or not.
But lately,
I haven't felt very empty,
and I couldn't tell you what your dimples
looked like.
I used to know every speckle and fleck
that lived in your irises.
But now,
I couldn't even tell you the color of your eyes.

At first,
I tried so hard to keep missing you,
thought I was supposed to miss you,
thought I wasn't supposed to let you go.
I used to think that I would love you forever,
that you would live in my heart,
occupy my soul.
I used to be okay with that.
I used to miss you every second that I was breathing.
But now,
well now sweet boy,
I go days without you here,
and some mornings I wake up unable to remember the last time
I actually missed you.
So I try,
try to miss you.
But it's far too hard to miss you by myself
and I'm so tired of missing us enough for the both of us.
So this is the end,
the end of all of this,
the end of everything.
Thank you for allowing me to love you,
for never asking me to be more than I was,
for never being more than you were,
for being ordinarily
Spectacular.

They say home is where the heart is
But what if you don't have a heart?
What if you don't have roots or walls or a spine?
What if you have nothing holding you together
And nothing tearing you apart?
What if you're a mere echo of a stray soul stuck in limbo?
A lump of atoms,
A burnt match,
A drifting vagabond,
Naked, lost, and numb in this cosmic paradox
Where satisfaction is but a distant memory

Most of these choices
evolved from
random thoughts.
The learned way had
been abandoned.

The air held hostility
and the peoples
minds were
polluted
with a threatening view
of the world.

There was still trust
in the talking heads
and trust in the
Novocaine.

I found I could
drink and use
and be able to
stay cool while
everyone else
was panicking.

A radio played
and the lyrics rang true.
"Trust in me and fall
as well."

The pigeons sat on
wires in groups like
gray clouds full of
anxiety and doubt.

Stray dogs shared
negative thoughts
and ran the streets
with pink tongues
swinging from
in between
stained and bloodied
canines.

The moon took
flight and produced a new
era of paranoia.
A Fleeting feeling of
worry and reasons
blew in with the
wind.

I closed the door and
thought out loud.

Why risk it all
and step out
into the world when
I look around and
listen hard and find
so many reasons
to avoid it.