What’s
    
          The
Deal
          
          With  the airlines
  
Mid-air  Snacks ?

          It always
Reminds
          Me
Of  the girl
Next door

          Where
         Firstly
In early morning
Where all the young
Hearts around the
Neighborhood knows

           The
Exactly time
She would be
Coming out
For her morning jogs

             Like a hawk
In the sky awaits
        Its pray

Like the bumblebees
      Waiting for spring

   Like the black bears
           Hibernating
             Dreaming
                 Of
her sweet seducing lips
                      I bet
             Taste just like honey

    Like that *******
        I once had
     Dreaming of exploring
   Her seductive body

          In my inappropriate
               Thoughts

I can almost taste
          The
       Paradise

   Desperately in need
                 Of
       Conquering her heart
          And rumple her sheets
                             I
            can almost guarantee
                  To be a lot more
              Delicious than her
             Favorite candies
                  
                  Lol
              
Butterfl­ies in the
      Stomach
Couldn’t dream
          Of any
        Other girls
            To help Bring
The animal out of me

          Anyway
I was always there
      To capture the moment
                Yoga pants
Embrace her body
     So perfectly delicious
Where all curves
Screaming out loud
For attention

       Without
A doubt
           She never disappoints
            
            Except
few hours later
       Just to be picked up
              By that fine looking
        College boy
Driving
    His
drop top Benz

              At
that moment
    Painfully, we all knew
     There wasn’t
One threaded chance
          Of  Us
Feeding the beast

          What
a freaking tease
A bag of chips
and a soda
       Always
     Reminds me
of the girl next door

            Just
Enough to get
me exited
But Never
Enough
To completely satisfy
            My hunger.

I am coming,
the quick trickster
slick heart enchanter
dark dancer.

I’m coming,
heart burning
as ashes paint
these concrete streets,
as people multiply
and walked with me.

Sidewalks peppered
with plastic flesh
that is packed with
everything that leaks
and seeks
its own death;

A house of rubble,
a home of dust,
but I am
a traveling man
in tattered garbs
trying to connect you
to those who are
just distorted reflections
wearing similar scars.

I was dead when,
Friends became backstabbers
Siblings became spies
And parents became cursers
Yet I live maybe
For the sake of myself

So long, love,
say gnite honey,
I'll go pull a stump,
so here I am, the field
of night all around me,
crazy, sad and lonely,
what love there was,
like a bee on a rose
buried in the year book
of past attics, you never lost
my shadow because I
never had one beside you,
though you did lose a ring
once, or twice,
you were like a woman
holding mirrors
over the spring, there
are screws
in the window sill
never sunken to hold
a pane, you don't listen
for me in the rain
anymore, you lie yourself
back into the one
you think you love, cruelty,
cruelty, cruelty, that's all
you've ever known, my love.

I'm as lonely as a station at night.

The december mist and the moon
peaking high over the iron fence
dulled the low volt into weird halo.

But like bats I reap the rewards of night.

The buzz of the crickets rose in crescendo
from the undergrowths around the track
sounding as unreal as the silent platform
abruptly cropping up on nowhere land
doubtful if ever a train would notice it.

Days are dull actings dancing to strings
yielding nothing to let you know you.
I'm in full vision before the lightless mirror
opening up alone but with the many faces
the dreary day ruthlessly hid from me.

The mist was engulfing the iron railings
and when a distant engine whistled
there was no track or platform
but only the lone flyer hung on the moon
like a bat glued to the scent of night.

I will never be wealthy
but I can help you see
clearly to our shared humanity
in print and polished prose
that represent those
who are not close to me
but in poverty are me,
a part of this universal family.

I found a journal from a homeless man
and his words worked within
my previous position,
words with the same pain
I was once burdened with
when I was homeless.
I had a journal to
though this one
is a little different.

I came at a different angle
but this person is not a stranger
this is just one aspect
of our singular story
that should unite us in our humanity.

Ever the moments
of nothing
Lingering
as gray clouds
before a warm dawn
I feel at home
in loneliness
I see no need
for it
to be gone
Mulling over the
history
of the days
that I could never forget
Some make me happy while
others fill me with regret
It's between just me
and my maker
Who seems to always
be around
He allows the thoughts
to be resurrected
Before I put them
back underground

I drive at night
and my eyes find
dark water that reflects
and stretches
carnival lights
beyond their normal
lines.