I want to softly whisper
incomplete poems
on your collar bones
that don't rhyme with anything
but your heavy breathing.

I want to bury my face
in the curves of your neck
because you smell like the winter clouds
and I've been gazing at the sky
since you left.

What is beautiful in San Francisco?
Nothing.
In this city we are all ***** sinners looking for a sweet distraction of purpose.
What is beautiful about San Francisco?
Everything.
In a place where desperation meets innovation, we give birth to skyscrapers, art, music, joy, hate, ***, love, and positively shining ideas. However essential to our existence and our sanity, these things are ugly because they stem from us and are therefore destined to warped, mangled, stretched, killed, and forgotten. But San Francisco tries on, steady as her bridge, to bring people to the enlightened kingdom. But we dark inhabitants are fated to lose the battle; for she cannot help us rise above the pull of the flaws of man.
This is the story of me.
And of Him.
And of San Francisco.
The story of opportunity for a new life, and an unavoidable failure.

We can build a house of cards, but with a misplaced whisper it comes tumbling down.

Shots fired I fell
I stand to make my case
But now it's become a race
For who can start the hell

I have no resentment
But it gets angry fast
How long can patience last?
I swore you weren't blatant

My heart is aching
My head is ringing
What are we doing
I'm tired of yelling

Pause.

Am I wrong for feeling wronged
I never heard a sorry
I'm beginning to agree
Maybe he was right all along

I make mistakes I know it
My anger gets the best of me
I try to say I'm sorry
But you won't let me show it

How could I forget
To my nature I am bound
When you're unwilling to forgive
I'm filling with regret

There is no relief
You won't let me say sorry
You sigh slowly
And say whatever with disbelief

We can stack the dominos, but with one wrong move it's all scattered.

September 8, 2013
It's you.
In my arms
On my mind
In my smile
On my lips
In my heart
Its you.

October 15, 2014
Hate you.
Get out of my life
You broke my heart
Get out of my hair
You don't care anymore
Get out of my mind
Hate you.

You are the apple of my eye,
but this fruit's rotten to the core.
You're suffocating me in your grip,
but baby your hands are so warm.

You're a corrupt tyrant king,
and ***** tortured prisoner;
Make me your silent queen, broken cell mate,
and crying court jester.

You stroke my hair, but your hands
are on my shoulder.
You bring me to new heights but,
when I soar you grow colder.

You're sweeter than our honeymoon
phase on Valentine's Day baby.
But the dentist said your **** gives
me one year cavities.

You have no doubts, "our
dream's pristine and love is true".
Then how come my heart,
my soul, is black and blue?

I am more alone when you hold my
hand and say, "I'm here".
But I feel so sick with fear at the
thought of you not near.

It's crazy.
You're crazy.
I'm crazy.
Crazy (in pain)
Crazy (in love)
How could I go?
Why can't I leave?

My heart is an old tin can,
dented, and full of worms.
I got kicked down the street,
when all I wanted to do
was fill her up
with Campbell's.

My smile is a broken piano,
no beautiful song to sing.
My teeth creak from silence.
She left me in the parlor
when she took up
guitar.

My feet are tired of searching,
my ears are sore from promises.
I'm running out of body parts
to rust,
and break,
and die.

But there's roses in my eyes,
just the sight of you makes my heart bloom.
You bring springtime to my soul,
I don't have to suffer anymore.
You've got the green thumb.
Love makes me feel like a garden.

I've got roses in my eyes.
Hey baby, let's plant roots and grow.
This garden can withstand wind, rain, snow.
Who needs arms and legs and all that ****?
All I ever need is roses,
and you.