Life has no restart button,
there is no respawn.
People come and leave
but life goes on.

Decisions are made,
wrong or right.
We follow the path
and search for the light.

Sometimes we laugh,
again we are pained.
Memories sustain us
but futures are gained.

We breathe in,
we exhale.
We move forward
and aim not to fail.

The start over button
does not exist.
Our being is set
and we will persist.

To the end we wander,
where does it lead?
Until game over
is decreed.

There was a time
when I would do whatever you asked
A time when I would
take on an army
face any storm
That time was then
This time is now
And I'm stronger now
I am who I am
I am me
I am perfect in my eyes
I lack nothing
I have everything
I don't need you.

Waiting on the other side of a screen,
                          
                              ­       Hoping you'll send me a message.

Seconds tick by...
                                  Minutes tick by.....

                                                        ­                Hours tick by....
                            
Then I realize.

                                              There is no one on the other side.

                                                          ­                        
*Never was.

my friends, my friends
we are birds on power lines
huddled for warmth
specks against the grey
surrounded by the late october gloom
and the steam rising up from the gutters
we are restless and sour
eyes pointing outward
-
every step
every teensy, solitary step
sealed with egg shell footprints
womb nostalgia
tenderness found in autumn colored flashes,
moth-wick sparkles, and fried dandelion blossoms
we remember our grandmas’ knuckles,
chipped tiles on the kitchen floor
-
my dear, my dear
we are stray brown tabbies
bellowing rumble, ears stripped of fur
settled into our corner of the front porch
once we were roustabouts;
waltzing to the waxing and wane
carpeted floors gave way to concrete chill
but now the summers seem longer
-
the smell of cardboard,
cinder block walls, and duck pond water
stale memories with naked omens
we turn to face the chilling draft;
tomorrow
harping on and on about grey areas
while we kick up alley gravel
balanced by surface tension
-
under quilts counting freckles
plasma paychecks peddling uphill

Her fine hands are gentle
With lithe and spiny fingers
Of bone and fin.

Her eyes are opal,
Essence of emerald and topaz,
A hoard of treasure.

Her hair is sea gathering
And dances in the blue currents
Deadly as the sea snake.

Her skin is coral,
Made of mineral and sorcery,
A fatal beacon.

Her lips are urchin,
Set in a whirlpool of face,
A spiral of doom.

Her voice is dream,
Rocking the lost wrecked ships,
Ground into sand.

Her long tail is fable
Of paradise, beyond faraway seas,
Cyclones and waves.

Bad news from your lips is outweighed by finding
your
lips

I talk to her, and her
She talks back, it echoes
I squeeze her, and her
She burrows into my chest, splitting it

I laugh with her, and her
She smiles back with too many teeth
I can’t love her... and her, and me
We cry tears, we should have never let be.