The dream boy I want
or no, should I say the man
yes, he's a man, a grown one
his age left boyhood 8 years ago
but his demeanor says otherwise. (sometimes)

I already have him.

He's not very tall, only beat me by a slim
3 inches
and his crooked fingers from
breaking all them
fit nicely into mine
a broken jigsaw puzzle.

he wears a flat cap like an Irish newspaper boy
maybe it's because he's from potato famine land

His breath lingers of cigs
and alcohol
with his grade-A Alfie Neuman smile
and oh god, those everlasting deep dimples
how can i forget to mention those pacific ocean eyes
corazón de oro

everything leaves me in awe
take me
take me
take me
love me

we'd have the same initials if we married

but all i want now is just to be able to
touch
hold
caress
love
him.

Snow isn't pretty.

Snow just shows what you’ve could of been;

pure, clear, clean and untouched,

and eventually gone.

You’re the snow in populated areas.

*****, sludgy, and walked upon by everyone.

You make people slip and crack their heads open.

To be drained into the polluted river

and become the grimy water he drinks from the tap

and the bitter aftertaste that lingers.

i didn't know you quite well
i just knew you hated
yourself
and loved disney films
and musicials

(i hate musicials and disney)

we sat at the same lunch table
2013
i remember your cotton sleeve
wiping across the corner of my left eye
because there was a storm brewing in them
and it flooded

you talked of
that boys don't know
better
and told me to stay
strong

how can someone who is not strong themselves
encourage me to do something
that they can't even triumph

you fell ill around december
or was it november?
i can't remember.
you almost followed the footsteps
of your lost nephews (two and five)
why couldn't you absorb your nutrition?
was your destiny to see the mortician?

(no.)

but you left the hilly suburbs of ohio
to go where the sand storms
and the palm trees sway
and the salty bays lay.

alex, alexandria
(defender of man)
i still remember those sleepless green eyes
filled with defeat and woe
and yards of wavy tangled brown hair
that flowed.

I’m lying down in the ground
as the sun shines its rays
right inbound
on me.
hounding me
(surrounding)
Without a sound

Or is there?
A ringing
or dinging
a pinging
maybe a constant stinging.

I wouldn’t know.

Could be the blood pulse
or the sea dulse wrapping
the seashells doing their sins
or
a pair of siamese twins
trying to
dance and
lance and
advance on my grave
(how brave! how brave! i hope they cave)

germinated spouts
and terminated doubts
with exterminated outs.

I sat

in the dark.

Into the corner,

cowered.

Shaken, trembled.

Tears danced and slid,

into the creases of my face.

The tears had that salty aroma and tang,

that reminded me when you squeezed lemon slices

in my eyes and poured salt over the pus.

I didn’t mind then and I still don’t.

My eyes weren’t as red then.

I wasn't alone then.