She stands before the bathroom mirror
Creating several different faces
Tryng to find the one that doesn’t
Make her look so tired and old.

Some of them make her look ill
A couple more look silly.
The one she finally settles on:
A wan and disappointed smile -

Accepted as least ugly of the bunch
It’s not the face she’d hoped to wear
In this the Autumn of her life.
She expected some small trace
Of former beauty to remain.

She tried to make a little sparkle
To liven up her somber eyes
And find the muscle in her cheek
That lifts her lips into a grin.

A sorry rictus of despair
Was all that effort brought her
So she gave up and threw the switch
And slipped away in darkness
ljm

I remember her so dearly.
The third-grade girl
who chased me.

Cherubic face
blushing
while I ran away.
Now I wished
that I had stayed,
letting her catch me.

Similar soul,
I know
we were reading
the same books and
standing on the outside
of the same social life.
We talked a bit
and went on one date
but by the time I realized
she was something special
it was far too late.

Not all things
work out for the best,
but facebook pictures
makes me think
she is pretty happy,
so I am happy for her.

I am a bit of a thief,
a killer king
stealing things
that are not mine,
to write
another line.

I pilfered
the filtered
through which others see,
to expand
the breadth
of what I understand.

I leveraged
past experiences,
to supplement my view
that despite my ambitions
come off slightly skewed.

I even bargained
and borrowed
my voice
from tomorrow,
so I could pass
pleasant wisdom
down to
all who
come to
view
this poetry
I wrote.

I’ll rock this ride,
till the day I die,
driving high
into the night.

Tired as I am
I move with
no plan,
just step
one foot forward
away from the herd.

The spirit that resides
is the light that I
give to this life.

Engine full throttle
no time to coddle,
the cattle is coming,
and I keep on running.

So, I drive
moving in time
as each glow
fades fast behind
and I know
I will not find
a single second
returned to me.

I won’t miss me
when I am gone,
and I am sorry
if I was wrong
but this river
only runs
in one direction.

When it’s finally over
and you sign the disclosure
to satisfy this sick
back room deal closer,

when you bend down
to submit to the controller
that hellfire holder
who was bolder
than the wiser
and the older,

I will kiss
the sharp bits
that ripped
at your lips
and bleed
the same
pain as you.

I will scrape
the nape
of my neck
till my spinal cord
is open to explore
and you can see
all the electricity
that makes me, me.

I will stand and confess
that you were
the worse and the best
parts of my humanity.

You can paint infinity
on a set of plates
that lay here before me,

share a season’s story
leaving out what is gory.

You can dance in skewed
perspectives,
make rainbows cry
while a little child
staves off this painted rain.

You can make manifest
the spirit over which
you give dominion
to all who live in
this little world.

Let lovers walk
from pools reflecting
many shades
that illuminate
the end of days.

Can take the infinitude
of every instance
that made you, you
and summarize it
in multiple tints
of blue;

Take the beauty
and wonder of
a stranger’s face
lit by inspiration
as she reads
by a windowpane,

while I can take apart
and break the art
you made with your heart,
to write this silly little poem.

My mid has drifted, I'm sad to say
You cannot say I'm lying
It's bigger still than yesterday
And that is why I'm crying.
                                ljm

I spend my regret
like it’s a foreign currency,
higher value
in my current deflated market.

I take my memories
and hold them till
they ulcerate my mind,
till seizures set in
and in my trembling
I find the curved lines
that connect us.

I take all the time
I have not wasted
in seeking purely
pleasurable moments,
even if I needed that leisure,
and I give it to the body you view;
Let this meat collect
compound interest
as it grows and thins,
flabs out and tightens
gains and loses muscle.

I am just a vessel
of borrowed flesh,
a thief of the present
that I steal for myself
and share sparingly.

I devour the world
and excrete neat
lines of love
and give them
to all of you.

I want to be
super lean
and ****,
so one day
someone
will say
they love me.

I got flab
but I’m not
that bad.

I eat clean,
except when I don’t.
Then I am mean
to myself,

but I know
that though
I work hard
to get buff
it won’t be enough
to earn somebody’s love.

Funny thing,
makes me laugh,
knowing this
should make me sad,
but the truth is
that I am useless.

All this stuff that I do
won’t make someone
I love
love me to.

Hell, it ain’t even enough
to make me love
myself.