evening loneliness arrives at dawn
and knocks on the dusty windowpane

in the kitchen, i lie — with threadbare arms —
against the shabby wooden cupboard frame

this house is void of all electricity
except for the light bulbs, the fridge, the T.V.

and my steady-beating heart of rhythmic defeat
lying naked across the tear-stained sheets

if you come home and find that i am dead,
perhaps some ***** dishes fell on my head

but most likely, i'll be, in the living room gloom
with a half-drunk bottle of wine to consume

with emergency flares tied to both wrists,
i'll leave you a smile, a sigh, and a kiss

She spoke rather enthusiastically of her planned trip to India, of her love for yoga and her passion for the pursuit of enlightenment. I was never one for spiritualism but she seemed so full of life and she had this appetite for experiences that was awe inspiring. Her hands moved feverously when she spoke, almost spastic but my focus, never more clear in recent memory remained on her eyes. They were soft with nativity but they carried with them a profound sense of conviction. Many before me have spoken of the eyes as the window to the soul and I had never fully understood the sentiment until I found mine intertwined with hers. Like a bridge over a seething river; our gaze had brought us closer. I felt as though we were no longer divided by ego, pride or other such frivolous illusions.

The conversation flowed so effortlessly, one could only describe it as natural. Had I been a determinist I would have regarded the meeting as fated to occur. She could shut me up just by talking; I always loved that in a woman. My fixation slowly slid down from her eyes to her mouth and almost like a fever coming over me I wanted to kiss her in that instant but you can’t just lock lips with your waitress in the middle of a café during lunch. Once again the nuisance of social structure and etiquette impeded upon my desires or so I told myself; knowing full well I could have just as easily stood up, grabbed her by her narrow hips and pulled her in tight for a good old fashion French baiser. Instead I allowed my longing to fume up inside of me like a tremendous furnace clouding my thoughts with black smoke and self-doubt. It was not society who was stopping me; it was me who was stopping me. Regardless of socially appropriate behavior we humans had always had a choice but like fools we often idly choose to cave under the pressure of our cultural conditioning. I like all cowards before me, used words like "can’t" as an excuse to allow moments of beauty to slip from my fingers and into the abyss. It was like a black hole, an all devouring entity that consumed all of our potential greatness and crushed it into nothingness.

Maybe in some alternative universe, somewhere in the infinite there was me sitting at that café gushing over her and she was standing there all delicate-like, telling me how she wanted to spend a month in India. Maybe that version of me acted on his impulse and he felt alive when he kissed her; in a way I may never feel. I hope somewhere in the vastness of this existence there is someone enjoying that kiss because if I squandered the only possible chance for that instance to ever occur then I cannot conceive of a greater tragedy.

Here I go,
Trying to write about you again,
And my heart starts hurting,
Tears collect in the corners of my eyes,
And yet,
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing,
From unending pages in my heart,
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing,
From my flaming soul,
Nothing
Nothing
Nothing,
Reaches the pages,
Forms words,
Gets written.

Everything I try to tell you,
Gets lost in translation,
Because it's only able to be experienced,
The language of love.

For some it’s a teddy, a Hotwheel, a dumptruck,
But not Doug, instead he gave lashings and then ******.

I knew not to holler lest Doug lose his focus,
Grasping my collar, he shrieked, “Hocus pocus!”

After Doug’s very first drink he’d soon have a *******,
Then that sinister wink, I knew I was far gone.

Exhausted from ****** my nubile ***, on the couch Doug laid
And then out he passed. I was no longer afraid.

The weekend ere last, after ******* Doug’s ****,
He’d showed me his bolt cutters cut through a lock.

How many times had I undressed ol’ Doug?
His **** were like limes, his chest like a rug.

Sleeping upright, legs invitingly spread,
Soul black as the night, I began to see red.

O, but the sound! Like scissors through steak,
Doug writhed all around, eyes seeming to quake.

After rising, I followed the crimson trail,
As if suddenly hollowed, gravity prevailed.

Wrists sore as my ***, mouth tasting metallic,
Bound like a lass, their faces utterly pallid.

Waddling down the hall, I was greeted with whistles,
“Give me a call!” Words coarser than bristles.

From the infirmary I write, and prone I must lay,
For Jerome likes ‘em white, as do Randy and Ray.

There is a day when dreams are
Exiled, left to waste away --
The dry sands of tomorrow.
Magnificent dreams,
Too daring, ambitious, demanding,
Cast aside, in hopes that they’ll
Flourish on their own.
We’ll dream once more…
Tomorrow

There is a day when opportunities
Are swallowed by the tides,
And sink to fathomless trenches
Never to be seen again,
For there might be another one…
Tomorrow.

There is a day when unspoken words
With the potential to change a life sit
In one’s tongue, embittering over time,
Since someone else will speak them…
Tomorrow.

There is a day when the Earth will perish
By exploitive and negligent hands.
We were all aware of what was to come,
So let us amend our ways...
Tomorrow.

Somethings simply just cannot wait.
Perhaps tomorrow is a day too late.

No one is to blame for the way I hated myself
No one is to blame for how lonely I felt even when surrounded by people
I did this to myself and if I fail I don't want to discuss why
Because nothing will change
The world will still revolve
I will still be void of what I want

Asked to be safe, to be calm,
with the suction-pores of each palm.
Lips in twist with skin so sour,
drawing blood to drown a flower.
Pulling back, to study faces,
shaking out of sure embraces,
her heels kicked out
and her face soon followed,
and what she left,
I chewed and swallowed.