sky was pouring and i remember my beloved's tears
storm was guiding the rain she never knew dear.
if you become a broken leaf emotion of wind will guide you
she thinks she float with the wind but the wind knew too.
when confidence become support it is one way to the end
life cannot be lived on dotted lines you receive what you send.
if you think that you are sleeping when you close your eyes
dreams will never oblize . life is not poem on lips of poet.

doubled & folded a two way mirror
see the blush on a pale bottom,
it is as white as me

read a book on “how to be a ghost”
working as crows fornicate,
black, love made with dead bodies

i floated over the lot of them
and i was so afraid, i did not know
what was seen on the other side

car lights, a saint to pick up roadkill
do not forget that ghosts watch
the birds echo, they might

verses were rehearsed & daresay
written on a couple dimes
we both have wings

while we both have wings,
i cannot fly –
oh, crows not the white of doves

i am dead & they eat my color, alive
fern to shield beads and eyes
*****, pricking red bowels inside

should not know for literature
god’s couple of miles higher than
what the good book claimed

and he watches us from a mirror
the other side of a stage
we look so ugly, the crows eat my face.

When I was around nine or so my Father looked at me in disgust,
And said in a loud voice
"There are rolls of fat on her legs,
I've never heard of that before."
Poor Daddy wanted a perfect daughter,
And got a chubby social misfit with argumentative tendencies,
Combined with a complete disregard for anything as inconvenient as reality.
I wouldn't have chosen an alcoholic sociopath for a father, either,
So, hey, we're sort of even.
I have my father's temper, which disgusts me,
More than my legs disgusted him, I'll bet.
He knows that I don't like him,
I've never been able to please him, or impress him,
And I've never understood what made him so angry,
I'm angry, too, a lot of the time, but I would never look at my daughters with horror and scorn,
And coldly evaluate their physical shortcomings.
Everything about them is beautiful, everything.
What an *******,
Wish I didn't love him, so.

Spilling your heart out onto someone who won't care,
Contemplating all the love we shared.
Love?
Ha, it cannot be so,
A boy as book smart as you should know.
Was it ever love?
Or just you "above?"
Something inside me has already died,
And yet the pain can never subside.
You've unknowingly broken my heart in two,
Well at least I know the real you.
Your immaturity is never-ending,
But too much time I'm spending,
Dreaming unwanted dreams,
Though never as it seems,
Why did I ever say, "I love you,"
Figured I'm not the one for you.
You seem oblivious in everything you do,
You've hurt me deeply; black and blue.
Why do I still dream of you,
If only this feeling I could undo,
Because you make me more than depressed,
You think I'm impressed?
But I'm never going to hide my pain again,
After all, this is the end.
I'm free to excel in life,
Without the pain of a sharp knife,
Stabbing at my heart,
Thank God we're apart!
I'm at a place now where I can be free,
From all the pain you've caused me; all the misery.

I have always imagined your touch as sunlight
As the heat trapped beneath my blanket when I first wake up
As the rug warming my bare feet in the morning
But that was before I realized I was loving a ghost
Before I saw my breath in front of my face
And realized we had just shared our first kiss
Before I wrapped my arms around myself after walking outside
Feeling the air cut through my skin like a thousand knives
Now I see you in the bottom of every glass
When I am left feeling even emptier than before I took a drink
Now I see you at the bottom of every staircase
As a reminder that even if I would jump
You wouldn't be there to break my fall
Because no matter how far a ghost's arms may reach
They'd never be solid enough to catch me.

i wish my generation would stop
romanticizing misery; if he only loves you
because you are sad, then what will happen
when he's the only one to make you happy

(are you prepared to watch him walk away
for another girl reading bukowski?)

Loving you was like a car wreck in slow motion.
You saw everything through the eyes of someone watching from the outside in.
From the eyes of someone who would never understand.
Loving you was not tasting your mouth, but every word inside of it.
Loving you seemed to be agonizing, like watching  paint dry, expect the paint is made from my blood and my hand is on my chest, trying to keep my heart from falling out of it.
Loving you was the blood from the barely beating ***** seeping between my fingers.
Loving you was when I finally let go and heard it fall onto the ground and the paint finally dried and I was dead.

i told you i was happy
that it was the weekend.
you then asked me why.
i said it was because i
have been deprived of
sleep lately and you
replied with a sigh.
you said i seemed tired
but then you asked
if i was okay.
i said im not to sure cause
its changes every day.

you asked me if i knew why i
couldnt sleep lately and i
honestly said i didnt know
why.
hmmm would it be wise
to start calling you adam?

r.a.