He's far away.
I miss his eyes
His gossamer lies and
How he listened when I cried.
I wanted to feel a
Semblance of something real
I can't care anymore for
What slipped out the door.
I dreamed we could be
Together forever
I believed
But there's not much to say except
He's far away and
Made a darkness out of day
So should I feel sad and
That **** gets really bad
I'll sleep and drink off
What I had now that
He's far away.

Somber dreams drifting away now-
Away from the spirits rummaging
Around,
From the ceaseless beckoning outside my window, and
From the daily toil of mortal coil.
A peace collapses my lids now
Soft as a satin feather.
While I lye inside my
Sapphire tower I escape from
The happenings when my
Eyes close as dew drops slide
Down the stained glass of
Saints and sinners whom wander alone
Dilated pupils over
Cursed lips singing along to a sirens
Song far off to those sunken ships.

Words are only words but cause her stomach to turn.
She will not keep silent what belies
Within her
Unduly saturated by emotions.
The vast depths of her despair are as
Unequivocally beholden as
Her coarse sensations of elated gratitude
Lady Liberty with her French countenance
Fails to gleam as vividly.

Only one light bulb glares like
A broken down dressing room;
Flickering, like it was on a wick, and
Dancing vibrantly to
A Marc Bolan tune.
Shape-shifter paradise
When the moon come'th
And the creaks cease to sound;
Only impressions, vaguely dreamt,
When the noise is turned down.
Waves,
Like trimming,
Glide In the space around the room;
Whispers faint, and dim,
Speak of paranoia and doom.
Pensive and pondering I lye,
Taken aback,
On patios at night smoking cigarettes.
Lilacs on crescent moon walks
For a cheap change of scenery.
Lunaphilia for my imprisoned internal talks
Feeds my dreary summer softly.

The stars sing subtle divine uttering's;
Truths glistening, breathing realities the naked
Ear can only understand in high pitch'ed waves.
Moonlight casting a charm
Over the bony limbs of
Coal colored trees
And the snow is cotton.
Its Christmas Night,
Alone, I bite my lips;
Sensing the presences of astral
Spirits.
Praying and wishing
Into matter the turning
Of a wheel of some Fortune.
Even foul luck is some kind of luck
Dreary day it was today, the
Wrest of the world shut out by clouds.
I wished I'd run into a friendly face and talk
That felt expensive among cordial greetings.
It's Christmas night,
Just like every other night.
(It's the thought that counts.)
Turning
Usually studied faces
To dribble, at lack of Kin
And Spirit.
Is it commercials and Lifetime specials
That awaken a barren-like swelling?
The world still revolves,
And tomorrow is a Promise.
Don't frown over spilled presents,
Enjoy this one while you can...

Rough ,Wet, Make it hurt
Sore in the morning
No time to flirt
No love, no whispers
Not even a kiss
Like animals, Mechanical
Tasting this
Bruises, teeth marks,
hickeys, thirst
*******, licking, Harder, grinding
The spot, Almost
Screaming, finding
Spasm, tightening
******, blinding

Making love,
a sweaty pit stop
between the sheets.
Politicians,
librarians,
directors,
janitors,
authors,
qu­eens,
kings,
moms,
you,
me,
All guilty of this bittersweet act of sticky significance.
All willing to tangle our limbs every night.

But how do I communicate
a word that lacks an English translation?
A feeling so essential to my well-being?
One that this
culture
denounces,
dejects,
despises
so easily,
Without changing what I look like in your eyes?
Hesitation of true affection

Amae, I want to share with you.
A home, not a house.
The mother's loving concern.
The safety of knowing that it is okay.
You'll be there and I
presume you will.
And this gives me shivers to imagine;
indulgence of security.

But that's codependent
Check the DSM-V.
I think the APA is wrong.
I challenge over 137,000 who seem to agree
that my need for people is
disorder,
disease,
debilitation.

Because I can see through a window in my heart,
that shows me a world coexisting;
once realized
we need each other
because we are human.
We want to live harmoniously, in unison.
I want to care of my fellow man.
I am celebrated for aspirations
of massaging the soul,
fixing the whole,
dedicated to them all.

Why is it so wrong that some days,
I'd like to be on that side of the spectrum?
Amae, Amae, *Amae