Last night your bedroom was tattoo-parlor-red…

You were a relentless *** machine
and your Alex Esguerra painting was knocked from the wall
during our rough housing. I found it
broken behind the bed
when I was looking for my second sock…
the other sock was still in my hand when I woke.

I love the way you always fall asleep diagonally
across the bed, so that
I lie awake, contorted and trying to figure out a way
to fit comfortably and proportionally
into your sprawling unconsciousness.

Yesterday, I loved your morning countenance;
void of expression
as you looked down your nose at the coffee press.
Your upper lip rested heavily on the lower, which seemed
immovable, that I’m not sure it will ever change.
It was too tired to be a pout and
I couldn’t look away –
so I must have loved it.

In the throws of passion last night,
you moaned that I made you sick to your stomach. I asked
if it was because I was too far inside you. You said,
“you’re always too far inside me.
That’s why you make me sick.”
And then you came and
rolled off of me.

I woke with only one leg in my jeans,
my mouth was coated with body paint,
and my chest was clawed into military ranks
by your flesh filled nails.

My other leg was propped on top
of an old pine blanket box at the foot of your bed
and my right arm was folded behind me
and numb. So I threw a sweatshirt over my shoulder –
I think it belonged to your old boyfriend, the one
you made the Esguerra painting with –
and I walked out of your flat leaving the door open.
Your cat slipped out behind me and
followed me downstairs to the sidewalk.
I didn’t care.

I sat blankly staring at Sweet’N Low packets
under a newspaper rack at the coffee shop on the corner,
holding my mug for what seemed like
an eternity of suspended animation –
the grip on it’s handle was the only thing
that connected me to the planet.

My eyes held that same lack of expression as yours did, but
my lips were parted so that air could
flow freely in and out if it
became necessary.

Sitting lost in state, it occurred me, that
I deeply and authentically affect you
and it has nothing to do with *******.

Your boyfriend’s sweatshirt was a size too big for me
and I could tell he wore Creed –
I saw a bottle of it on the toilet tank. It’s redolence
clashed with the aroma of roasting coffee and
I was startled from stasis.

So I left, walking out to a cacophonous city, where
the sun had just exploded over the horizon,
and I smiled into its blinding brilliance.
As the door squeaked closed behind me to a snap,
I looked to the right for a moment,
then turned left.
I had no idea where I was walking to and started
blithely swinging my arms
as I accelerated my gait.

I still had my sock in my hand.
And your cat is probably dead.

There are no free rides;
Not since the '30's.
There's no free lunch;
Do you think food
Grows on trees?
There's no free-for-alls;
Unless you hold
The winning ticket,
But don't bet on it.
There are no free trials;
We don't return it
Because we can't find it
After the thirty day
Money-back guarantee.
There's no free verse;
That's an oxymoron.
I spend inordinate amounts
Of time, alone, struggling,
To make it look free.

She can't stop
It's uncontrollable
She just wants to turn it off
She just wants a switch
Turn them off for good
All emotions...
Especially love
For forever
It only causes her pain
Unrequited love
The worst of all
"Friend Zoned"
Backed against the wall
Last attempt
Wasted down the drain
She watches it swirl down
Then drops the knife
Sinking sowly to the ground
No heart + No life
= nothing, empty
and she's finally happy

'What does a sculptor see in the rock?'
'None, dear child, none and nothing.'
'What does the tailor see in the frock?'
'Naught, dear child, naught and nothing.'

'Tell me, what does the musician see in his song?'
'Little, dear child, little and less.'
'What does a philosopher see in the wrong?'
'Too much, dear child, too much and distress.'

'But, what does a pilot see in the sky?'
'A bit, dear child, a bit and a little.'
'What does the poet see in my eye?'
'Something, dear child, something at least.'

'Daddy, what do you see in the smoke?'
'So much, dear child, much and more than you.'
'And what do you see when your voice shrinks to a choke?'
'Dear child, so much I cannot still scream.'

'I'll tell you what I see, and not for my youth
I see a statue, an elfin body, a melody and truth,
I see the clouds and the freedom to fly,
I see the hope and the faith in my eye.

In the smoke, Daddy, I see nothing but air,
In your choke I hear needless despair.
I grew up to love you, and love you I do
But I can never see things in the same way as you.'

The father, he blushed and spoke out so strong,
'Darling, I wished to be free,
But now I can see that without you I'm wrong
**Without you I cease to be me.'

Uncross your arms. So I
May access your heart.

Smile, so our kisses fit.
I fell in love with you laughing,

Now look for things to laugh
About; there are plenty.

Save your tears for the hard, solid
Tragedies. I'll cry with you. Then.

I earn your trust just by
Breathing; so honest is my

Loving you. Uncross your arms.
Return my embrace.

I fell asleep
      with you
    on my mind
I woke up
And you
      were still there



**When's this gonna end?

One early morning,
Let me have you
By my side,
Get me a pen & paper
Ask me a poem to write
About our first
May be our forever
May be you can drive me a little
Or harder
Or faster
We can talk about colors
May be color from last night
"Red" thats fallen
On our bedsheet
Where,
we have been turn on
You look blessed
There's no reason for you to not
Everything has its cover
We dont have any
Nudeness is no problem
When soul is shared already

May be you could tease me a little
About last night
then, i would hide my face
With the paper
Where poem, i'm supposed to write
i blushed
There you could talk about my beauty
Girls love appriciation
She expects them
Even if she dont have any...

You could hold me
While i write
Around my waist
Or may be a little up,tight
I am all yours
And you are my only guy
I might scribble on your arm
The victory of love we had
I might write poem
On your whole body
Cause paper is not enough
To put on a act

I gasp !
Fantasies are such a beautiful thing to have.

Mirror mirror on the wall
who's the fairest of them all

And the mirror replied
my dear my dear
why do you ask
for I've told you the truth
and yet you make this a task

Mirror mirror please tell me
why am I not as sweet
as the honey from the honeybee

And the mirror replied
why ask such complex things
when the answer I give
pain is all it brings

Mirror mirror
as genuine as can be
what exactly do you see
when you look at me

seeing the girl near tears
The mirror replied
why not turn around
and see with your own eyes

as the girl did so
a light so blinding
knocked her to her knees
with a big strong booming voice replying
what do you see

why my Lord
the girl replied
what do I see
I see such beauty, grace,
love beyond compare
why I see so much
its hard not to stare

Exactly my child
your heart is what you see
for your heart
is pure, like mine

but my mirror over here
tells me I'm worthy or beautiful
cant you see
I'm nothing like you
I'm just me

then she covered her ears
at the sound of a dreadful crash
then the voice returned and said
never mind what the mirror once said
for it only brought you dread

but I'm here to bring
great joy to every girl and boy
no one is perfect
as you can see
but you can be happy
if you just accept me

The eyes behind a head inclined reflect a universe

      Of shanty towns and kings in crowns and parties in a hearse,
      Of heaping mounds of coffee grounds and pennies in a purse,
      Of heart attacks in shoddy shacks, of motion in reverse,
      Of reasons why pale kids must die, quite trite and curtly terse,
      Of puppet people at the steeple, kneeling down averse,
      Of ****** tones and megaphones with empty words and worse,
      Of life’s begin’ in utter sin and other things perverse,
      Of lewd taboos and residues contained within the Curse,

While poets blind, in gallows’ rind, carve epitaphs in verse.