three ripe figs: maiden-mother-crone
fresh and green, not fully grown
gravid, blushing, ripe allure
nut-brown, wrinkled, sun-matured.

which of these the sweetest be?
high upon this old fig tree
maiden tartness bright and young
full womanhood upon the tongue.
drooping breast and brown age-spots
spurned by youthful hungry thoughts.

adolescent, first one picked
complex taste is not quite fixed.
plump and ready, sun-touched mother
ripe fig flavor like no other
ignored by most, her dried-up skin
sags dessicated on the limb.
with sweetest nectar deep inside.
never plucked and never tried.

Just because I’m smiling,
Doesn’t mean I’m happy.
Maybe I just have a preference,
That I’d rather be here,
With you,
Not feeling great,
But just not feeling terrible
For a little while.
Just taking a little break from the world.
The same world
That tells us no,
Or rather, tells me no.
It gives you a choice,
And you just relay its message.
How cruel of the world,
To take someone beautiful like you
And place you in a confining box,
As a mere messenger to me
That we will never be together.
But here we are,
Together,
But apart.
In the same place but not intimately,
Not for you at least,
And intimacy must run north and south,
But for me, my God, for me!
Being this close is a sky dive,
Every second it appears I’m going to crash into the Earth
But I just don’t care!
Because I’ve never felt a rush like this before,
And yet for you, it’s like sitting in a coffee shop
With your mother.
Who only wants to know you
To know a morsel of your private life,
To know you trust her in some form.
But she’s your mother,
And her friendship is underwhelming to you,
Like the black coffee you drink.
So that’s what I’m reduced to,
According to your attitude.
To a prying mother that you respect more than you love.
Although I’m a man,
Just a man in love with you
Who would love to be loved back.
And no matter how obvious you hint
That things just aren’t like they used to be,
That we’ll never be as close as we once were,
Ever again,
Still I will love to sit here.
Just to look at your radiant face
And the three freckles that guard the right corner of your mouth
As if your delicate lips must ask them for permission
Each time you grace me with one of your careful smiles.
I live for these smiles,
Both to make them and enjoy them.
To bask in their warmth
Like a happy crocodile
Waiting for the water to evaporate off his scales
And to make them!
Dear God, to make them!
There is no finer pleasure in this world for a man
For any man
Than to make a sly remark
Followed by a shared smile between only me and you
I lived for these moments and sadly still do
Even though it seems each smile
Is now a hollow shell
A mold cast by your beauty
That could never be fully replicated
I haven’t seen true joy in your smile
For some time now
And I wonder who’s to blame
But blaming solves nothing so I just love to sit here
Pondering your face,
The beauty I see in your smile,
The hint of longing melancholy in your eyes,
And the tragedy my heart notices at your lips
That you don’t want to touch them to mine.

I Gave Up A Long Time Ago,
It Just Took Me A While To Realise.
I Have Lived My Life Without Living It At All.
Full Of Mistrust, Regret And Bitterness,
I Lived My Life In The Space Of No More That Two Decades.
That May Seem Premature,
But I Have Felt All The Feeling This World Has To Give.
And My Mistake's Outweigh My Triumph's,
My Losses Outnumber My Win's
And Second To None Is The Lack Of My Achievement's.
I Have Nothing To Show For My Short Time Spent On This Earth,
All I Can Pretend To Own Is This False Pretence Of Knowledge,
Or Those Once Loved.
But Not Even My Knowledge Mean's Anything,
For I Know A Little About A Lot,
But Really All That Mean's Is I Know Nothing About Everything.
So I Have Accepted My Life Is No Life At All,
With Nothing Left To Lose I Shall Cary On,
Living My Life,
The Only Way I Know
Alone, Distrusting And Bitter.

I get high to get by.
It's the only way I see,
to ease the pain that's slowly
growing inside of me.
My friends can't stand the change,
they give me misguided looks,
they seem to look at me
like my face is full of hooks.
I hate to see them judge me,
but they don't really know,
I've found a path to happiness,
but it seems so false and slow.
They think I'm like a stoner,
smoking myself to space,
but really, I'm a loner,
looking for an embrace.

The only place I feel safe,
is tucked inside his arms.
I feel like a helpless waif,
so in need of his charms.
Cuz my parents bring me down,
and I'm unsure of my friends,
could anyone accept me,
without going through a cleanse?
Cuz I'm done with faking happy,
for everyone else's sake,
this little slice of happy
is for me, only, to take.

I don't know how to tell you,
that it's so hard to get by,
and if there's one thing that I've realized,
it's that I only smile when I'm high.