I've seen too many quiet nights;
no conversation,
no wine to drink to us,
no explanations.
I compete with the Game of Thrones
for your attention.
I lose. The king still dies.
Dragons fly. Same old story.
I lie here reading Pablo
till I weep.
I want to say I love you. But I don't.
Say it, I mean. I want to think
you love me, too.
But you don't. Say it.
Let's have that conversation.
Dragons don't fly.
It's true.

r ~ 5/23/14

As I use this conditioner on my hair
I think,
Do I need hair this fair.
As a man, should I care?

      But it turns so soft and silky!
      Just feel it, touch it,
      So smooth and wispy!

Shush now voice, I tell you,
I do not care for this fair hair!
I do not need fair hair with flare!

      Don't you like the way it smells?
      So clean and fruity,
      Smelling fresh as sleeping beauty!

Enough! I do not need fair hair
Or hair with flare
Or hair that glares
So man up!

And rub some dirt in there!

It flows
    And stops
         It dies
              And clots
                  Revives
                       It thrives
                          Until I drop

As alcohol courses through me
Turning pure blood to taint
My wits are dulled
And thoughts askew

That light is rather bright
That one up ahead
Too boozed up
To find the brake

...


Awaking briefly
No pain
Talking man with his blue mask
Hooking up a bag of life

It's red and thick
I've seen it before
Perhaps it was mine I gave
My life is too pathetic for another to save

Irony of my own blood replacing
My own blood

Is it worth it
Should they bother

Let me suffer my consequences

Just let the blood stop

I can already it feel it starting to clot.

Inspiration doesn't strike me
I feel I have to earn it

My heart says,
       Write, for you have words to say
          Words to be heard
             Words to be thought on

My heart and head do not converse
I know this
As my hands are still frozen
There is no inspiration

If fate existed

How could you possibly fail
With deeds,
predetermined,
in life's tale.

That would not be your failure!

Look up,
You're able. Capable.
Time to turn the table.

Our time flicked with drops of summer,
The numberless nodes, mellow cicadas,
Pixelated a world swirling of music—
All dates, sweet tabulations of primes,

The savours swelling in fragrant breeze,
The still waters of pond mist and flame,
How your eyes, with mine, gazed into—
O sleepy windows of eyes being born,

Flowers made a bed and we drank it all,
The light of the sun as it passed in grace
And the birds sang songs of remembrance,
Water fell but once from mothering skies,

Wind whined, such days could never last,
One flesh of burgeoning— moon in the grass.