Gabby Abrego
I'll never let you go go
unless we go to Mexico
and you be come a hobo!
Then I'll go.
and fetch the so co.
so we can dance to disco
eat enchiladas with adobo
pick the **** out of our Afros!

We'll feel so funky,
the people will get spunky
when we arrive on donkeys,
and ride around their towns!
We'll befriend all the junkies
and give them howler monkeys,
it'll be so funny
we'll laugh until you cry!

Ohh! Gabby Abrego I'll never let you go go
unless I get you prego
then I'll run like mad!
cuz if we had a baby
I'd stop being lazy
get as famous as THE LADY
support you like Eminem did for his baby.

So Never Ever leave me
Or I'll succumb to Scientology
and go even more crazy
my world'd become a mystery.

I'd rather be a rhino
rather be tricked into a *****
rather be married to Bono
in a movie starring J.Lo
be forced to live with Yoko Ono
have red eyes like an albino
than to ever be with out
Gabby Abrego!!!

come lay beside me in my bed-
I'll trace a path from your ankles to head
and in the morning warm my dear
lift your head and hear
the pucker of my pink lips by your ears
You're my dream in reality
the object of my sensuality
palpitations in my ventricles
heartbeats your fingertips control
smooth inhalation of your soul appeals
aching to learn how your body feels

Even alone in our graves,
we're surrounded by bodies
memories seep through dirt
like groundwater.
a marble quilt stretched
across our eventual bed
what a dream we'll find death!
deja vu on repeat in our heads:
ticking clocks still clack after their
battery heartattacks
just reverb in your eardrums
as real as phantom pains or
the shame you feel when they
state all your claims in
my court of appeals.
if we breathe, we receive the past's blessing we crave--
desire.
demand: hungry open palms of our hands.

So I stroll their napping grass blankets
my minuet appreciation
for the invitation to your bed
but my dreams are still too foggy
for my heart to be dead.

The flooding puddles of your eyes
reflect nothing but the skies and
trees with leaves as dead as skin
on elbows in winter.

Your two-toned heart won't separate
the simple verbs to conjugate from be
to am to are to is--
the peeling of our action.
I'll wait for sunlight, blue skies, and stars
I can wait for spring!
Wait for your words to mean what a dictionary describes.

Grey does nothing for your eyes.
They still twinkle with delight
soggy grass and slippery walks
like soggy emotions in your slippery thoughts.
You're winter now.
I'm spring.
You're dead--I'm thriving.
your plea for surviving, what hope!
What loss! What cost!

God shouldn't have trusted you with that smile.
Your rat-like grim untrustworthy guile.
That duplicitous manner in which you speak
Oh how you out shine your ***!

Your failed promises,
attempts to leave me.
to please me.
Oh! How you leave me pleased!

Your tokens broken, torn and stored
In wires above my bed
slip visions of you in my dreams.
A morning sight, such sweet delightful
beginnings to long dragging days.

Even through your thunder storm
Your vexation brings me joy.

Mushrooms the size of my angered fists are growing outside of my house;
As if there isn’t enough poison in your leaving alone!

The rain that spawned them is a nervous sweat--
The world is afraid to tell me it lied.
He gives no plea for forgiveness.
Just flouting of my emotion,
My ability to love.

The taste of your kiss still warm on my lips--
I **** fungus from between the still wet grass
There must be a bit of you in there!
It comes as a surprise: the white-gray flesh won't kiss back!
If I sink my teeth in—
I suspect I’ll be poisoned,
Where were my suspicions of you?
I should have expected your worst,
But you kissed me back, so I took advantage of that.
Why not? Your lips tasted bitter, but good.

What a terrible feeling! To
Lose my sense of pride—
Lose my sensibility.
I conclude: If I love; I lose.

I irrationally fear that they might cut down our trees--
Your poison takes all of my lovers from me
They’ll tie neon green plastic bows around trunks
And axe them down
Until I bleed—
Until the mushrooms leave.

Zero is not an absolute.
I have seen worlds open inside her circular form--
the expansion and contraction of edges, curved
longings curbed: suppressed then exposed--
everything we've wished for in our beds.

Zero has infinite chance--
ringed and rung out-- sung and restrung
her points connected positive and negative glued and preserved
presorted for our convenience.

There is nothing convenient in the sputter of our silences
we spit and bite, tender nothing
solicitous starvation.
Our sympathetic matter of course.

Zero is not nothing.
She's bigger than comprehension--
compensation
and competition
Zero teaches us:
What alone could be
If we alone, weren't one.

clouds are water and air and light
cumulus floats puffy smoke in the sky
and the spaces between are bluer
than her eyes.

But I am mesmerized--
their ability to float,
carefree and flawed
their billows explode.

pure and unique
their moments are fleeting
while they cycle through
I keep repeating
my woes and my wonders
my carbon and water
I'm looking up
while they're looking over.

when I die I'll be white--
powder keg in the sky
cling as thick to the air
as I do to her smiles.
I'll filter the rain for the people below
instead of pouring my tears on her head alone.

I'd rather be a cloud
than this mass I've become
rather be weightless and die with the sun,
rather see oceans and rivers and seas
than drown in my wishes of
floating in breeze.

Her skin clings but won't bark-chip
and I am stuck pondering the contradictions of lust--
confusions and revisions of the same desperate line
But-- I loved you,
I loved you,
I love you never sounded right.

I have a fervent untrimmed wick.
When I flicker: I slip--

unless I forget and dial tonight.
I will not call.

But her eyes closed tightly when she kissed me--
I watched as her eyelashes
fluttered and fell on my
cheeks--

I will cry your wishes away.
I will try to forget we existed.
I will twist and thrash unleashed and unabashed

I will make a loud noise.
I will scream in my sleep
when the moment to choose confronts me.

Then,
Why when our fingertips itched
were our tangles strewn out in obsessive neat
lines--
my lust and the pain in her taking.
my desperate ache for her lip.
for the smell she occupied and wore
like the smell of mold on trees

I cannot change the way she bleeds.