Besame, quiereme, porque soy debil.                       For I am weak.
Abrazame fuerte por favor, porque soy cansado,    Tired.
Cantarme, en suave vibrato,
porque siento convertirse a parado.                         Still.

Y quedate conmigo...                                      Stay with me...
Hasta que muera con mi corazon fuera.        **Until I die with my heart outside.

Subtle melody, find solace

as fingers ride the wind like wings.
Side walk top hats are my wallet,
as heartache grips the listening crowd
and just like that, the wind too sings
along with my torn fingered strings,
that fly like heartache sung aloud,
and come alive like Spring.

My fingers know which notes to tear away.
The violin knows what wind it needs for tune.
I'll rest the base against my neck and play,
Street corners my rehearsal room,
in coldest winter or sunniest spring;
In frigid night, in scorching day,
I'll play. My blistered fingers know the way.

Seasons come and go astray.
Plucking fingers freeze and burn.
But everywhere by bow resolves to turn,
the wind follows, waiting for my word;
His cue to take the stage and sing
songs that come alive like Spring
and my smiling fingers know which string
will permit the wind be heard.

I grew up moon shining past glowing street lights
and I was invited to an underground ring by a man called Life.
I met him in the ring in the middle of the night;
I threw down my gloves for ill advised street fights.
He threw down grimaces, and spit disguised as tears.
Blood rushed through ringing ears,
Blood rushed into my head, suddenly hazy with fear
and then, suddenly, blood rushed out of punctured sides.
High on adulation, I brought boxing gloves, respectful nods, handshakes, and cheers.
Life brought me low with sucker punches, broken laws, and sharp rusty knives.

To describe her hair is to scratch markings in sand,
only to watch grains shift and fade like words that I lack.
Raven's too dark, Midnight not true to her soul.
I refuse to settle for simply black.

To put in words the tilt of her chin,
to lay claim to her eyes' swirling blues and greens
is impossible. Better again sand meet my pen
than her face be sullied by the barest degrees.

I'd tell you of diamonds and midnight to compare her beauty,
and then think better of her- less of my words- and take it all back.
I refuse to sully her by barest degrees;
I refuse to settle for simply black.

The red of cigarette ashes contrasts the white upon the snow.
The expanse is unbroken as his gaze wanders lonely plains.
He takes one puff; then another; then another one so
he can forget her face, and remember how it feels to live again.

His parka is unzipped as he breathes in air so cold,
and cigarette cherries reach his palm and burn away cold contemplations.
He smiles at the Arctic gods' cool ministrations; their fervent consolations
for the love he is smoking and forgetting in the snow.

He zips up his jacket, tosses ashes far below.
He turns away, his footsteps marking the white waste.
They are the only remnant of his remembering ablation,
and soon, they too, are absorbed by the plateau.

My tie is formal; the coat's leather dark.
Face rugged; unshaven, eyes twinkling bright.
Perfect features form a question mark:
Would you care, perhaps, to stay the night?

If you told me no, you'd not be the first,
but I doubt you'd regret it over much
if you used my body to sate your thirst.
Just leave the money on the dresser, if that's your intent.
It's free to look, but it costs to touch;
Even pretty boys have to pay the rent.

Rhyme night with light.
Rhyme love with dove.
Rhyme pain with razors,
and when that's not enough
mix in some words about heartbreak and the mock-laughing moon.
Catch some eyes, smoke some starlight.
Dream about raves full of lasers.
Drink till you're on the floor,
then shut the door.
And lie alone in your room.

Smoke.
Drink.
Live.
Die.
Wait for the pain
to make way for the high.

That's the path to the floor where I lie.
The train's in motion.
Its brakes are broken.
I guess that means I'll see you all soon.