All my dreams are made of ice
tinted with gold by your memory.
Like ice
they turn to puddles
with the rising sun melting the moon in the morning minutes

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

Want to see the reflection of the battle?
It is pale and gray and seems like it is fading
Nothing can save it
No actions can change its appearance or the memories left behind
It is a battered, broken and slowly becoming less visible
Hidden behind all it can find
And what it once was, is no where in sight

These Monsters try to get me
not before i get myself, i lock myself in this empty room
hoping for this ***** carpet to **** me through this false foundation,
**** me up right between my sheets.
I open my eyes just before my alarm beeps,
a step ahead of the time- all the time
I can see you back there two steps behind,
laggin behind the seconds- just like the big hand on the clock.
Like im moving ahead of everyone else-head of the curve,
as the Doctors like to call it-as im trying to explain my increasing condition.
Son this is straight ludic-ration, It might be a part of your toonish-addiction.
Boilin' up this sketches and pencils, Bottlin' these un-inked rations.
I could use these another day i think to myself conspicuously,
wondering if anybody overheard my thoughts
writing down my exact words-
to someday use them against me in this trial,
with the judge,
jury im pleading against denial
Sittin' there with my crooked grin, my vanishing eyes, and my grittin teeth.
The judge has it out for me i can tell,
by the way he made me stand up and sit down,
i cant take much more of this questioning-
My mind wandering loosely now, maybe its what they wanted
tryin to get all my thoughts, those greedy *******;
My ideas, my brainchild's- there all worthless they'll see.
Nothing but a conspiracy against me,
But what they really dont know-there's a bomb under my seat.

No one could
Ever love
The story
Of us
Like I do.