I'm* just a girl,
Just waiting for you,
A kindred spirit, A
Girl who would do anything,
Who will cherish you, Who
Loves everything about
*You

The other day
I happened to see a friend
who had passed away.
It was not until I saw him
had I realized,
I no longer cared for him.
I had been busy living
and after all these years
he was still the same.
How does one explain
to a dead friend
that people change?

It's not till you're deprived that you can really love something
Anyone who has gone to a foreign speaking country can understand this
the words being spoken are stripped of all meaning to you
Then you go home and there's no more translating or confusion
You understand  
When you touch me I understand
I sense every subtle advance and fight to deny subjectiveness
But your language is too convincing, too poetic and I melt under your finger tips
they trace the trails of my silent desires in pursuit of the never ceasing void
The black hole that never stops consuming because there can never be enough
Fill me with pages and pages more than a million libraries
If not you, then perhaps the next
This is my language and you speak it so well
Then one day I'm stranded
Tens of thousands of years it seems on a desert island where the islanders don't speak the same language as I do
But one day I'm rescued and able to speak to the rescuer
It clicks back so easily and there is a deep appreciation for dialogue after being deprived
Now talk me to sleep as your hands roll across my back like the tide
Tell me what I Need to get me by before I'm stranded once more

O Lord, my best desire fulfil,
And help me to resign
Life, health, and comfort to Thy will,
And make Thy pleasure mine.

Why whould I shrink at Thy command,
Whose love forbids my fears?
Or tremble at the gracious hand
That wipes away my tears?

No, rather let me freely yield
What most I prize to Thee;
Who never hast a good withheld,
Or wilt withhold, from me.

Thy favor, all my journey through,
Thou art engaged to grant;
What else I want, or think I do,
'Tis better still to want.

Wisdom and mercy guide my way,
Shall I resist them both?
A poor blind creature of day,
And crush'd before the moth!

But ah! my inward spirit cries,
Still binds me to Thy sway;
Else the next cloud that veils the skies
Drives all these thoughts away.

I'm through loving you with my heart
For it expires
It expires like everything else
In my body
I want to love you with my soul
To stand the test of time
To last beyond a lifetime
I want to be able to say,
"I'm all yours."
Without anything in this universe
Contradicting my statement.
I'm all yours.

-D.D.

And I want to tell her that I understand
what it feels like to be fake, insignificant,
and a shadow on the sidewalk of society.

And I want to tell her that I also borrow
the experiences of others --
that I, too, learn feelings
by stopping and staring at personal wreckage,
like a tourist of emotions,
like an inevitable wish of a human being.

Her ribs crackled, in the skeleton night.
And I remember my mouth on hers,
where atomic fish hooks attached our lips.
Where there was nothing like kissing
like our God wasn't dead.

She was accused of killing a taxi driver
in the Brazilian underbelly.
Smoking a cigarette, she dropped it on the ground,
spat on it, and crushed it with her bare foot,
saying she fell in love with the way
his sleep-drenched body lay.

And I told her to stay home.
And I told her that they'd find her.
But she didn't stay home.
And they did find her.

Chasing her through the Babylon brush,
insults were thrown and so were balloons of gasoline.
Each pink, yellow, and green vessel floated in the air, as an internal opera heightened.
And sour splashes spread across her body,
as she fled from the vigilante mob.

The children danced along the panoramic horizon she ran beside,
laughing, pointing, singing.
The slumbering sorrow of the situation became evident,
and she started to feel the calm of fleeting life.

Her dreams aborted and her ideals became fallacies,
and with the sound of fuzzy motors in the background, her heart leapt and her feet slipped.

Rope ate into her, wrapping her like the orphaned recklessness of each set of eyes that painted her.
She squirmed amongst the cheers.
She cried with every thrown beer and balloon.
The empty-eyed males gang ***** her.
The women covered the children's eyes,
and the children tried to move their mothers' hands.

And I pushed my way through the crowd.
And I saw her smothered in blood, beer, and gasoline.
I wanted to halt the hurricane that destroyed morality.
But I am a coward.
Frozen by my fear, I, too, am a murderer.
And a murderer I'll always be,
for the burning of all that was good.

Sudden flames soared towards the sky.
Laughter escaped as molotov cocktails exploded onto her body.
Her head turned towards the crowd,
as flames scampered across her face.
I saw in her, what I never saw before,
which was the human race.