It wont be till tomorrow
Before I make up my mind
It wont be till I see the reflection of the sun
in your sweet smile
Before I choose to stay
Or walk a thousand mile

There’s comfort in this pain
There’s guilt in this prayer
Yet still I am here
singing my dearest dreams
In your ears
I am shattering my own heart
As I see my reflection
in your tears

It wont be till tomorrow
Before I make up my mind

It’s raining outside
broken hearts are no strangers
To these rainy nights

Spherical rainbow,
a smile-inducing giggle-fit,
floats carefree.

Your innocent breath,
the part of you
I long to keep preserved,
fills it-- makes it so.

The iridescent colors
swirl around before meeting
tiny
outstretched
fingers.

A haiku:*

Monkey see, monkey
throw **** at lover monkey.
Monkey make-up ***.

there is no hell below us
nore is there a heaven above us
we are in them

were in hell, were  in heaven.

we create them
we breathe them
we are them
they boths live inside us

they are bonded in our minds
twisting things together
to create our own spin

we are them

Her eyes are closed, as the moon drops down, and her superstition starts to bite. That was probably twenty years ago, with a girl I knew once. I can remember I almost cried. She was laying down on the nighttime, with the smell of the train yard creaking through the windows. With only the stroke of her arm, I could feel the softness of her life. We gathered eyelashes like ecstasy for the viewers of the world. We studied the French revolution to teach us how to move like a brown bear. But the silver-lining drew our life's in pieces and like equations on scrap-boards, we never figured our true meaning. Soon, we realized it is easier to hate someone rather than to poke a hole in their hearts. But today, I will feed my sorrow sunflowers, an odd way to make love; I will have trouble living with someone else.

It’s like dividing signals, that is what amazed me. I have to resist the impulse to grab you and hold you. I still see you, slipped into the underlife. The faith of our bodies is crying a little. I love starting things, but I have to pause. All I can take is the greatest pleasure, a replica. I feel like I have a plastic bandage made of lavender. Anxious, with fire to fire, I will try to slip you into the night. As the sun rises and the day turns black, the cotton-fields stand in my way but I still see you. The inevitable is happening. We are reaching for death on the end of a candle, we are trying for something that’s already found us. We are like a storm or some holy dream. Calling out doesn’t do anything. The sound of glass speaks quickly and I’ve been down for son long that it looks up to me now. I have never been heard. I am troubled, immeasurably by your eyes.

I miss you, do you miss me too?
I miss the you I knew
Now your just a memory
That I wish I could see
A phantom that used to be reality
The thought to curve my mentality
I miss you, do you miss me too?
I miss the you I knew