It is lust that leads me
to observe discreetly
this beauty before me.

A tight, toned, and tanned physique
glistens spectacularly
with the savage intensity
of her workout.

Lines of definition
cut across her back
as her shoulders ripple
with distinct striations.

Superb human specimen
but I keep my distance
because I do not want to bother
this artist of flesh I have mentioned.

So, I struggle to be a gentleman,
working as hard as I can
to not lust,
but I am only human
eventually I must
release the energy
inspired by this
divine entity.

There are shots in the distance.
Teachers push their students
to the nearest exit.

Crying and afraid
one girl runs
all the way
into the woods,
while another
calls her mother.

Reporter asks if
she was surprised
that this happened.

The teenager
is barely able to speak
without trembling,
but manages to reply
that she figured
it was about time.

This has become
so normalized,
that we have
shooter drills.

Hallways become warzones.
Ceramic tiles are stained
with barely teenage bodies,
shell shocked students,
walking disasters
disassembled
and stranded in the middle
of American nightmare
that we can’t wake up from.

Summertime
drive to work,
car running,
hot engine gunning,
I keep moving
making sweat
roll down my neck.

All this heat
seems to sharpen
my senses,
intensifying
once dormant
emotions,
that make me cry.

Cinnamon and raison
memories resurface,
tasty pastry affections
from my grandmother
who made such delightful
treats,
and tucked them away
in her Tupperware tray.

A blue and white
small plastic pool
we used to stay cool
punctured by twigs
draining into
cracks of
the sidewalk
that worked its way
from our back door
to small the side streets
in the public housing.

Baby brother
on the back of my bike
as we ride
to the library,
baby brother and me
going to the movies.
Time keeps moving
at an uncomfortable
accelerated pace.
Moments are replaced
then changed
or erased by times
cruel intent.

The loss of pets,
the loss of grandpa,
the loss of grandma,
the loss of my presumed
innocence
is scorching.

Until, the season’s
rambunctiousness
slowly softens
to more bearable temperatures.

Her iris is absorbed in an
elegant explosion,
a big bang
of hazel glory
that expands from
the center of
her ocular universe.

It is a certain sadness,
an empty sorrow
for something I never had
but still miss.
I ache for any scent,
for any nasal experience
cause I have never known
the sweet smell of anything,
but if I consider it a blessing
I have never known the stench.
of anything.

Too tired to walk
so, I mumble
while I talk
and stumble
over the cracks
in the old sidewalk.
Too fatigued
to even think
about how I miss sleep.
So, if you try and
trip me
I’ll probably fall gratefully
into slumber land.

Curse the scribbles
that stretch to form
strange and monstrous feature
of beasts unborn,
creatures of never were,
sharp and violent
nightmares
moving silently
like ninjas
who seeks to
eviscerate me,
such unlovely things
that would ****** me
if they weren't
abstract reflections
of my sick imagination.