I am nothing but footprints in the sand
to him.
Odious, he who left me to fight the tides,
promised me forever.
How long is forever?
                               Three years, two months,
                               Eleven days, an hour
                               and twenty-three seconds.
Now he’s back,
expecting a norm so chimerical.
But, disconsolate as I am,
sleeping ‘til body withered--
crying ‘til eyes dusted--
Yet he’s obdurate to this, my Odious.
No amount of imprecations
can succor this heartbreak.
My armored skin,
antiquated from battles long and harsh--
turned to mere paper against his words.
He has me by the corner,
above the red, red flame
and wants to act like I am not burning.
Such a silver tongue, my Odious,
he can fabricate like no other.

My dear Odious,
     Leave me to fight the tides,
     as I hope your Promethean fever
     leaves you as cold
     and as alone
     as your true heart.
Yours always,
     Detritus

I am the road-paver,
I am the stone-setter,
the aimless wonderer.

Not a second glance
as I lay the manse,
but not a chance

that I receive praise
for this golden runway
on which you will parade.

But, how lovely is she
dancing content, so free,
she makes it look so easy.

I'm not one for pride
but dance shoes worn and dried,
yet only given a small aside.

I am the road-paver,
the stone-setter,
the aimless wonderer,
don't mind me, I'll just be
keeping quiet,
because I know better.

I don't fear heights anymore
Because I realize
I'm already falling.
Head first, arms outstretched,
Fingers achingly awaiting
The softness of your skin.
You have me in some strange place--
Where I'm among the stars
Yet stomach caught in free fall,
Head spinning
Yet eyes clearly seeing you,
Warmed by your arms
Yet shaking from your touch.
Down
        Down
                Down
                   ­      We go,
Yet we don't worry about the bottom.
As long as I have you now,
For this very second,
I don't care if I'm taken tonight.

I don't want to think about
What will happen to us.
I don't want to think about
     Next year,
          Next month or
               Next week.
I just want to think about
                    Tomorrow.

I don't know
What I'm wearing tomorrow,
What I'll eat for breakfast,
Or if I'll even wake up tomorrow.
What I do know is that
                    Tomorrow,
I'll still love you.

Today I killed a man.
He was a  good man,  with a  wife  and
three kids waiting for him in a suburban
house  about  half a  mile  from  the city
with two  nice  cars and  a  trained dog.
     I killed that man
just because  he  wanted  his money. The
one-dollar  bills  weren't  enough, so in I
went,  deep into  his   stomach, rupturing
exactly  7  different  veins, one  of  which
was a  main  artery, and  slicing  open his
spleen.  The  good  man might have lived
if he didn't take  the  man’s  hard-earned
phone. Instead,  the good  man  bled out
in a dark alley between  Main Street and
3rd   Avenue.  No  one   heard  his  cries
or  turned   a  head  to   simply  look,  so
he   died  before  any  aid  reached   him.
     I created  a  widow and  three fatherless children
     I created a broken home and a dark, dead place.
I won’t  go  to  jail though, but I will
be confiscated  because  I’m nothing
but the knife inside the thief's pocket.