What is the hardest part
                    Of being alone?
It's the quietness,
A stillness making
What ought have been a home-
a house.
It's filled with beds,
But those lover's nests
Are             Empty.
And the thought is
As occupying as a dream.
A dream you cannot feel
Because the loneliness is keeping you awake

With no one to hold down your fears
         And keep you safe.

I wish to work at a bank,
merely to work the opening shift.

I wouldn’t steal money,
just work until my first paycheck,
then quit.

As I’d walk out,
I’d yell to all,
**** yourselves!
I’ve completed a life goal!

They’re merely working
because violin lessons
or that marketing diploma
didn’t quite pan out.

And as I triumphantly walk
through the doors to freedom,
I’d be shot by thieves
beginning to rob the bank.

It’s an honor
to be made an example of.

I wrote a poem you'll never see –
a masterpiece; it took me weeks.
I love you and I wanted you to know.
I achingly described your lips
with tender, breathless craftsmanship;
it was a soulful, sinful epic wracked with lust.
Poetry herself, intrigued,
shook her head in disbelief;
no mortal girl could ever love so much –
and so, enamored by my words,
she decided to ****** you first.
I'm sorry, lover, but she had to go.

bottomless
means one thing, and
*******
means another.

Who makes roses cry rainbow
The iris of my eye.
You make me see ghosts,
And want to meet them.
See demons, and want to fight them.
See gods, and what to be them.
You let me be.
Set me free.
Took me to the kingdom by the sea
And just drifted away with me.
I melted with every word you said.
Fire met water with a bump on the head
And a spark of electricity.
You taught me relativity
On a stroll down sea horse valley.
You’ve been through life and death with me.
When the world ends,
It will be in Zen.
You and me sitting happily
Just relaxing counting Z’s.
As beauty explodes before our eyes
Stigma finally set aside
Truth revealed to the naked brain
Everyone else will go insane.
Now with nothing left amiss
You and I floating in bliss
Nothing left to do but kiss.
Cleansing all the doors of perception
More powerful then resurrection
The world we will create
They won’t be able to mutilate.
And we will sit upon a green star,
Watching our world from afar.
Sipping on the Milky Way,
And dreaming days away .
Earth can have heaven and the universe next door
We have all of time to explore!
Not afraid of a black hole
Absorbing my soul
When I’m on your arm
You’ll protect me from any harm.
We’ll pick up Felix from mars,
Go meow at the Dog Star
Until it retires to the west.
(Which we both know is the best)
We’ll camp on the sun for a century
Let the galaxy revolve around you and me.
As we slip into unconsciousness
To dream and reminisce.
Of when you started me acting quite contrarily
And talking so esoterically.
Of when infinity first began.
I love you MandleMan.

I am aware when my hips ram into the corner of the desk when I walk down a row and I double over in pain.

I am aware when my **** knock over the glass of water that was in front of me when I lean over the table.

I am aware when my *** doesn't fit through a tight squeeze in a movie theater or party.

I am aware when my hair gets caught in the limbs that I walk underneath.

I am aware that my thighs have no choice but to take up the empty space that would otherwise be in my pants.

I am spatially aware.

I know that my shoulders are not the smallest, but **** are they strong.

I know that the space I take up when I dance makes the air feel full, and loves me for my caress.

Love me or love me not, I do not care.

I am spatially aware of air.

Life
Is
Pi
Divided
By
Two,

Half is me.
Half is you.

π / 2

Sitting in this dusty old attic
listening to the shingles flapping in the wind
I flip through a dog-eared book from my childhood.

As I skip through the pages,
I look up and notice the fine inlaid
carpentry work of an old chest.

Going over, leaving prints on the dusty floor,
I lift the lid.  With reptilian slowness
a lazy fat spider edges away.

Inside this trove of ancient treasure,
magnificent finds of days gone by.
Mementos of a honeymoon, a parachute jump.
Gramma's best biscuit recipe.  A photo of
Sam the hound with spittle running down his jowls.
A picture of a babe at his mother's ******.

A permutation of these tucked away articles
give meaning to a life well and truly lived.  
Closing the pages of these treasures I
wander away to watch my grandchildren
make memories of their own.

The air in this room is






                                     heavy.

It's hard to think with you here
It's   to     with     here

We clean
and then it
gets *****
so we clean
and then it
gets *****
and we get sick
and then
we get well
and we even get drunk
and then
we get sober
so we clean
and then it
gets *****
and for better
and for worse
we are married
to this cycle of life
so let's all try
to stay in love
and enjoy eternity.