The English vice,
Some Etonian curse –
Set down in grass
And purple verse,

Lavatory bred
With ransacked blood,
Skin slapping and
With a falling thud –

Takes boys at childhood,
Wishes them away,
With promises of popper fuelled buffets,

And poisons them with
Vice and virus red,
And sees them unmarried
Giving head.

I don’t regret a single thing I am,
I’ve tried it out
And can’t abide the sham –

I’ll **** men
And make them beg for more,
I’ll scrabble for their love upon the floor,

I’ll love men
And love will love me too,
I’ll love for love’s own sake
And when I’m through

I’ll die and I’ll be thankful that your hate
Never made me beg that I was straight.

Tangled legs
   Under the sheets
My arm
   Our pillow
Your hair
   Flowing underneath your head
      Like golden streams leaving your scent
Your skin
   Soft as silk
Your face
   Still and peaceful
Your breath
   Slow and steady
      A prefect lullaby willing me to sleep
I drift away
Lost in your serenity
Never wanting to get up

Another day gone
Another life beginning
While I simply wait

Renovate yourself.
Whether it is once a year or twice a month:
Become new.
Roll up in your bedsheets and feel the chrysalis change you.

Don't stay the same.
No, don't you dare.
If you stop moving the darkness will catch up
Destroying your dreams,
Your love,
Your hope.
Everything that kept you steady.

Renovate yourself.
Whether it is once a year or twice a month:
Choose change
Before it chooses you.

I have never felt this way about anyone before
With you
it is just easy
With you
it comes naturally

I try so hard not to have these feelings because at the end it only hurts me
It only poisons my heart
The more I have these feelings, the more stained my heart gets
I do not like the power you have over me

No.
No, it is not love
It is not love that I have for you
It is hate
I hate you.

i am sitting here. blank face.
counting the ripples on the pool.

one.... two.... ok, enough.

the hairs on my arm?
too many.
too blonde.

practice minor pentatonic scales?
if only i knew what they were good for.
blues scales?
ok.
root, flat third, fourth, sharp fourth, flat seventh, eighth.
[**** i'll be proud if that's right.]

overthink everything.
write way too many poems,
save them all as drafts.
wonder if you'd even respond.
think of calling you.
decide not to.
"your unwanted calls"...
or something that you wrote forever ago,
keeps me away.
you keep me away.
[if only you handled this by saying
maybe in the long run we'll actually get to know each other...
this is for the best.
wouldn't that be grand?
wouldn't that be way better
than some short term relationship
that would just end in this hatred for me anyway?]

i pout,
look out the window,
notice the blue sky.
i wonder why you can't be happy.
i wonder why I can't be happy.