I have compared my love
to the lazy, the no good
and to crazy girls of the past,
to my first truck, to a spell,
a moth and a bottle, to the hell
bending moon, if you could tell,
and to a Captain - if not a ship,
and to ways you'll come to know
too soon, but I have never, ever
compared my love for you.

When you paint your walls
with nonsense, and the sky outside
reflects your feelings, sensations
tiring, discovering floors and no ceilings.

And the faceless poor man
doesn't want your tips
but your hand, he wants to try
standing, because he's tired of kneeling.

When you insure the beggar's
confidence with a dime, hoping
he will ask you to stay awhile, then
you see he's not the freak, you are.

It is your mind that is on trial,
the beggarman dying, you slowly
take up his cup, and begin the eternal
begging for just one single smile.

The mellow light of dusk
Shines in through cracks
Of curtains and blinds
Faded by time and sun

Old wood creaks
As the house settles and shifts
Dust and particles stir
With every wisp of stale air

A music box plays
Next to a crooked lamp
Whose blackened light bulb
Had long since burnt out

Night draws near
Yet ever so slowly
As the music box continues
Its soft strange tune

And with its final chime
Will the sun then sink
Below the amaranth sky
And into the oblivion of night

A thin, yet deadly electric shock
Weaves it's way through my rib cage
In a gentle,
Silent pattern towards my heart.
It's gentleness ceases the moment it hits it's target,
Causing a pain so sharp and persistent that
I am forced to collapse into an angry colored pit filled with confusion and never-ending words.
I blink as my eyes adjust to my ever-changing surroundings and
A brilliant green consumes my mind first,
Bringing a warm sense of safety and trust as my heart
Finds its beat again.
But soon it quickens as a visitor of ivory consumes my being,
And I squeeze my eyes shut against the past white-hot pain
Flashing in front of me before
It is overcome by a powerful red,
Causing tremors to travel in sparks
Up and down my vulnerable arms, and
There's anger, oh so much anger, and my eyes are burning and
I cannot breathe until my surroundings dissolve into
The purest of golds, and I am in a daze.
In pure wonder of what was, a faint smile creeps onto my lips
As I hear a soft, distant laughter, my own mischievous laughter,
That fills me with warmth.
And I shiver when my last visitor comes, envelopes me in
A beautiful deep violet storm of words
Past and present, confusing me and tangling themselves in my mind,
I whip my head around, searching for a way out of this pit
Only to find that there are no doors, there is no escape for me.
I succumb to the bewilderment and allow the violet mass to fully
Enter my mind, which was previously blocked off,
As I try to search my memories for one clue,
One sign to aid my feeble efforts of unraveling this tangled
Purple wire.
And nothing is there.

I look through my photographs
And see a person I never knew.
An open smiling soul you might
Tell almost anything you wanted to.
And what a fine face I had
With shining unlined skin.
I look at that face and shake my head
Wish I looked like that again.

I don't remember being that cute
It must be a camera trick.
I'm surely not that hot now.
This just makes me sick.
Someone just managed to
Aim that cheap camera right.
Or else it was the lighting
Whether day or night.

I remember that outfit
And the length of my hair.
But I am sure someone doctored
This picture up somewhere
Because I never take pictures well.
I always look like a freak.
I mean these picture make me
Look like I had a widow's peak.

And, look how tiny my waist
And how great my style was then.
I wish I could be that hot
And that young once again.
I would  take that face back again
In a minute if I knew how.
But please no pictures of me today.
I don't like my pictures now.

I suppose the iodine in the fish I
Just had for dinner was working fast on my brain
I kept thinking out loud:
They don’t truly believe that if they build a snow man
In the middle of July:  and expect its foundation is going to hold

  Do they strongly believe
That law enforcement is ever going to change
Because of a sign that read “Black life matters”
What matter most is to save ourselves?
From unnecessary target practice
Last but not lest: Next to fire, straw isn't good. (Don't tempt the devil.)