All the time I pray to Buddha
I keep on
killing mosquitoes.

The moon tonight--
I even miss
her grumbling.

That wren--
looking here, looking there.
You lose something?

in the pleasure of discovering
words rhymes rhythms
i'm a gluttonous poet.

day and night
bite of my growing appetite
makes me sink low

i don't notice
broken pieces
shattered peaces
around me

i breathe in writing
eat and drink
poetry

crazed obsessed stressed
my poetry
like any other debauchery
is an escape ride
someplace to hide

i'm a poet
subservient
to the pleasures of words rhymes rhythms.

Three days ago you told me you'd never leave,
Three days later you're not talking to me.
Three days ago you said we were cute,
Now Three days later I'm hating you.
What happened to us between then?
Was this last week just pretend?
Was Winter break the last parade?
Before you decided to end my days.
Now I board down a ***** of heart break.
You got me pondering life while standing on an iced lake,
Not caring if I fall through,
Because I'm already drowning in the coldness of not being with you.

do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
everything,
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
leaves
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
blink
when you leave,
because she is
already
romanticizing it.