Again and again
and we'll do it again.
I hate you.
I want you.
I hate you, I hate you.
Again.

Say my name, say my name.
Say my stupid name.
It's stupid how we always seem
to do it again.

Back and forth,
here and there,
back again.

I hate you again.
I want you again.
Creep under my door
And we'll do it again.

“Just like sparrows,
You'll never see one dead.
Must be millions of them,
but you'll hardly ever see one dead.”
What happens to them?
“They get over it.”
Over what?
“Over being there.”

They simply lie with stale fear
reaking from their skins,
for death cannot heal them.

Slowly, they let go of
each others fingers
and sink, numb,
into that thick silence.
They drown there.

A thousand soffacating creatures,
choking in a bombed-out town.

All the candles in their churches are out,
and death is a bone that stammers.

And suddenly,
they are guiltier than hell.
History counts every smudging thumbprint.

I'm listening to him again
I guess thats why I miss you.

I want to turn this river
into an ocean.

I want to throw my heart
back on your floor.

It's too damd hot
and I need something to lose.

But life is good enough,
like lipstick on your skin

Because I cant imagine
tasting anyone but you.

Why is he kissing that girl?
The one with the peppermint hair
and apple-dipped nails.

Doesn't he know
her eyes are too sweet?
and her lips will go sour
when she feels the heat,
of another flame tugging her sleeve?

You spit cold like you mean it,
but your too numb to repeat it.
Digging holes that you sleep in
and you can't wish them away.

Fleshy webbing rots separately
from your polyester core
which quietly crackles sad goodbyes.

Your falling into abandon's tricky arms.

And as you crawl back
to gutter girls and cigarettes
tell me, are you o.k. with what you've got?

The day the starfish were high,
we were swimming towards the sun
and nirvana was only a stroke away.

We carried stories in our stomaches
and let them bubble up from our throats
until we could see them wrap around
the waists of street venders.

The merry-go-round music tangled in my hair
but I never wanted to shake it out.

Your breath was in my lungs
when the citrus-******* sunshine
made your heart skip a beat.

Our feet burned black on the board walk
when we walked too far,
looking for where the ocean herself was born.

When the mermaids called our names,
we waded through tide pools,
let seaweed grow around our ankles
and promised never to uproot them.

And finally the seagulls brought us
aphrodisiacs from the Gods
so we climbed the lightning bolts
and became a new constellation.

As if we were just old friends;
you'd ask,
How are you baby?

and I would reply:
It won't stop raining.

You'd want to know
if time ever mends?

and I'd tell you:
that time alone,
brought Babylon
to her knees.

Then you'd ask if maybe,
I missed the fever
that came with the North wind?

and although I've missed it greatly,
I'll answer plainly,
that I no longer care
for such silly sins.