they told me a few drinks
would help me forget you.
but long after my friends have taken my keys,
there's a burning in the back of my throat
that hasn't left since you did.
(s.j.b)

No sprouted wheat and soya shoots
And Brussels in a cake,
Carrot straw and spinach raw,
(Today, I need a steak).

Not thick brown rice and rice pilaw
Or mushrooms creamed on toast,
Turnips mashed and parsnips hashed,
(I'm dreaming of a roast).

Health-food folks around the world
Are thinned by anxious zeal,
They look for help in seafood kelp
(I count on breaded veal).

No smoking signs, raw mustard greens,
Zucchini by the ton,
Uncooked kale and bodies frail
Are sure to make me run

to

***** of pork and chicken thighs
And standing rib, so prime,
Pork chops brown and fresh ground round
(I crave them all the time).

Irish stews and boiled corned beef
and hot dogs by the scores,
or any place that saves a space
For smoking carnivores.

Age eighteen, living life as a low-middle class suburban jobless fool with a confusing relationship and a five year old boy. I have nerve damage to my left arm, smokers cough and lesser (haha) alcoholism.     I guess it's macaroni (not Kraft, way too expensive) and cheese (nothing fancy) tonight. I should apply for a new job tomorrow, but I'll probably have something else to do. Besides that, I have no clothes suitable for an interview anyway. My hair is a wild mess. From behind you might think, "****, she doesn't have an ***..."
...but from straight on, you might think, "****, he looks like Slash."
I do not look like Slash, by the way. At least I think not. Maybe with the right hat, but then, I am way too short. I can sing like Slash, though.
I learned to use my voice like, five years ago. How old was I...?
I can read like Joseph Ogle. I love reading. I must have been younger when I started reading good material. Must have been a good few years ago...
I can draw like Dali. I think I found him out in Middle School...
I can play piano like ******* Mozart. I picked up piano earlier...
I can write like...
...well, writing is so unique that comparing myslef to anyone is insulting to both.  
Anyway, it's my raw talent, skills that I have owned and honed that drives me to be more.
They say you have to deal with the hand life gave you, but life decided to give me dice, and a couple chance rolls. I may still have a few left. For as long as I live, I will deny and refute the notion that once you lose everything, you should just give up. I have lost. You can talk to me all day about how sad your life is, and how depressed you are, but unless you do something to change your quality of existence, then you're going to roll snake eyes. Snakes bite, friend.
I got a lucky thirteen on my plate. I am content to keep, but I could keep going.
What do you have?

She spies the ants in bewilderment
A linear and meandering path
Undulating like a wave on a flat ocean
They are deliberate and sure

The ant spies the girl with indifference
Her path is unknown and random
Undulating in and out of reality
Her scars are deliberate and self-inflicted

The woman spies the man
His path is like the girl and the ant
Undulating like a *** of boiling water
The wounds he exacts are deep and copious

nothing is foreseen
like the past... it outlasts the future
and no one lives long enough
to know for sure.
and then there's amnesia.
a suite of empty rooms
you
came from -
and all

all
the invisible deeds
of your god
with a margin of error
the width of your
conviction.
a mote of bobbing
apples, made of
smoke.
around a castle
with a rook
made of
bones.

She holds the key to destiny in her left hand
While clinging to life with her right
Trying to remember why she does this
She sees her friends
Begging her to stay with the
Pleading
Refusing on the grounds that
She wants them to be able to live happy
Choosing to sacrifice her own well being
For a fate that she's ALWAYS been against
Believing that this is the right thing to do
Struggle so that others may prosper...

She holds the key to life in her hand
Letting it drain all the joy away from her soul
Replacing it with the agony of anguish
Struggling to stay among the living
Questioning her own choice
Claiming the dead is better suited for her
Not her words
But the words of a child
Who has given up on life itself...
She holds such a simple key to the fate of
All not one
Becoming corrupted by every negative thought
Of every living human being
Dying on the inside
Living a lie on the outside
Wanting to be free from such a dark fate
But afraid of the consequences to do so
So she stays
Remains a prisoner
In an "Easily" escapable prison
Called "Fate and Destiny"
...

I see the skyline of the city at sunset. Smoke from my cigarettes rises, Dancing around us.
We sit in silence,
Watching the sky darken.
I look at you,
Take in every strong line of your face.
I notice in the fading light,
Just how stunning your carmel skin looks intertwined in my milky white hand.
I inhale in the darkness,
Letting it envelope me.
Fireworks start to erupt in the distance. I exhale,
watching as they glow in sympathy. Stardust and sprinkling colors surround.
I smile,
It's so magical with our mountain view. You kissed me tonight,
as I thought you should.
Perhaps it was the whisky,
That made us so bold.
I don't know why it is,
That I couldn't help but kiss you back. Even though I knew,
It wouldn't last longer then fireworks and a cigarette.

I take a walk into the parkour graveyard,
looking for Polish dealers and cellphone halos.
I heard Thoth resides in sobriety,
but words fail me
whenever you are near.

I let my tongue run in endless stutters,
disguising 'I love you' as some off-hand request.
I could take you to dinner,
I could show you a longing
without the need for ***.

This late-night food has lost its flavour.
This ******* never picked up.
All that is left is to dial these numbers,
and wait by the window
for any car but yours.

Let's take a walk to the railway bridge.
We'll smoke a joint by the open forest.
You'll push your breath into mine,
make me high,
and forget why I ever
felt so low.

Hazel eyes lost in seas, of red ruby wine lips,
Drunk love lusted after, crimson caress,
Parted lips tasted, sweet my love, thy love, my love,
Open heart, surgery retreating for the risk the unknown,
Arms wrapped ivy, anaesthetize beating hearts heard,
Coming undone, to be made complete soul struck,
For I choose, freely with will to love each day,
You, you, oh yes, you.

That old cliché, setting the one free letting go,
How I died, a thousand times over, over, over,
Letting go, letting go, letting go,
You never flew from me, you flew towards me back,
Aching, shaking, soothing, beats pounding freely you returned,
No restraint, chains, locks to keep you so you stayed,
Thousands of; ‘I love you,’ ‘I love you,’ ‘I love you,’
Penetrating cold hospital air, waves crashing to shore returning,
A Thursday fell upon us days later, as you followed me home.

Colliding we fell, such deep velocity impulsive desire,
Those weeks blew up, nuclear blasts polluting air,
And on the Saturday you flew, it felt like coming home,
I wanted you, I needed you, oh, how I needed you,
Because of course, I was so catastrophically in love,
Loving you not because, I needed you,
But needing you because I loved, you,
And I had waited, for you, again, again, again,
Never believing so openly, your wings would spread back to me.

A week passes, speed shaking on amphetamines,
Walking through the door, your eyes hit me diamonds,
And nothing mattered, you become me, I become you,
Bubbles closing in, fantasy reality merging marrying,
I say; ‘you need to take your gum out so I can kiss you,’
And you smiled, giggled as an eternity passed by,
Secrets unknown land, wrapped encased feeling,
I felt, I had never been kissed before that very moment,
Leaning into you craving you wanting you, more enough,
And I knew; knew it then know it now, crazy eyes withheld,
For only, only, only, you,

And I could never had known, that one day in May,
I would love you,
                            could love,
and
                           did, love you.

© Sia Jane