God forgives all trespasses,
but can I?
What do I have to forgive?

I'll not forgive you because you have nothing to apologize for.
You've been absent, but you have your reasons. You have your struggle and I have my love.
For you, for her, for my little sister, for everything around me.
I'll be there for you always, I'll spare my bitterness that has so often been flowing out of my pores. You don't deserve it and it won't help.
Help?
If you need some, just ask,
I'll not pass judgment for I wish none to be passed unto me, God knows one could judge me, least of all you, for the way I've treated you.

I'll be there for you,
although it's hard for me to look you in the eye.

You needed something to occupy
so you could feel loved
and you chose my heart.
Gladly I opened it for you.

You were lonely when you kissed me,
you kissed me because you were lonely.
I kissed you because I thought it was the right thing to do,
kissing you was the wrong thing to do.

Now, you're no longer lonely and you don't need me. You've found other people to make you feel loved and now you can spare none for me. ****, you can't even call me back.

You make me feel stupid and naive.
Stupid to love you
and naive to think you could ever love me back.

i suppose there is a lot of unsung symbolism in giving someone a plant, as plants have become an average gift to give in occasions of celebration, such as moving into a new home or graduating from school.

every moment i am with you is a cause for celebration.
you are a celebration.

no matter how many plants i can give you to put on the windowsill in your bedroom will symbolize the celebration i feel in knowing you to it's true color.

because i feel fireworks in my chest brighter and louder than the ones we kissed under and i feel happier and bubblier with you than drinking the alcohol i like to drink too much of and you give me more pleasant thoughts than the color i chose to paint the walls of my bedroom

and no matter how many poems i write
and no matter how many words i say
none of them quite amount to the sheer immensity of what i feel for you

fire me towards a career
or something
(any/or/either/neither)
because i haven’t been
playing music

and i’m starting to seem
the emaciate-pit peach on  a too-tall
tree of plenty
just out of reach

of tantalus,
waist-deep in a river
of cornsilk braids too
rich for eyes, too coarse for tongue or teeth

garden of goddesses
wielding life-flow
geometry
keep the
hounds and
ghost-things
at bay.

undress a smoky corset,
tendrils, or turgid
rapids, swatting
ceases less
twining strands
than flies.

i wish it away,
woven comfort,
a web of fraying
calico and red tape,
bearing the weight
of an arachnid slew.

yet away with it
yields my downfall,
tumbling branch
to branch,
unfeeling, unthinking,
but for my parachute.

i lost a life
to watching
a mirror and
the marker in my hand,
but it could not stop
the leaves from drifting,
nor the water from taking the leaves,
nor those leaves from disintegrating.

simmer down,
shudder breath,
breathe deep
&center

Lounging on my windowsill are the two most beautiful plants I have seen.
One has half of its leaves chewed off, the other half are wilting but it is full of life.
It is full of good intentions and affection.
The other is a thriving Cactus Collection,
although they are better classified as succulents. Deep shades of green specked with reds, they are the apple of my eye for when the giver of these gifts is not present.

She is beautiful,
let me tell you,
she is stunning.

I once compared the feelings she gives me to the high of various drugs,
but that sad attempt of expression is a bastardization of how she makes me feel.
Of what she makes me feel.

She makes me feel the entirety of the cosmos painted onto her lips.
She breathes the life of earth into my neck and ***** passion out of my pores.
Her fingertips are a skeleton key to a chest containing any hint of beauty a human could possess.
She is magical, mystical,
beauty personified.

She is an essence.
Of what?
Of moons, stars, and birds.
Of elementary school playgrounds,
of Chinatown jasmine tea.

Her legs are soft beyond comprehension,
like the feeling of silk in a dream.
Her laughter is vibrant beyond comparison but let me try;

With words? I cannot! But with a kiss, I may attempt.

She is my favorite book,
she is French existentialism,
she is freshly cut grass!
She is the Yuba River!
Her beauty is measurable just as each drop of water in the Russian River is measurable.

She is immense and powerful.
She kisses tenderly and ***** wholeheartedly.
She speaks genuinely and loves truthfully.


Their will be no ending to this
because their is no end to her beauty.

Blast it!
We've put our eggs
in the wrong basket,
and now Little Liberty has dropped them.

She's dropped them.
She's dropped them!
She certainly did,
She dropped them!

Each egg splits, cracks, breaks,
all despite Liberty's bleeding
colors. Faded, young
hatching prematurely;
before their time.

Liberty heard her love-
boyish ruckus in The Bush.
Hurriedly she did run;
giving all her aide.
Unfortunately, careless Liberty did not see:
All our eggs are handled irresponsibly.

Soon after little Liberty's Bush date,
she saw what she could only surmount to fate:
Poster slapped to said Holy Tree,
plastered with Allah's face.
Hating those jihadist anyway,
Ignorant Liberty unloaded her bounty-
upon the sacred man's face.  

It took a while
till Liberty thought,
looking down,
but by then,
we all thought it all too late.
But ,Little Liberty being supreme,
(totally Grade A,)
finally remembered to put the lid down.
Ah, now that should seal our fate,
her reasoning as she bounced and pranced away.

But just before she reached her people,
her sickness burst,
her pride was shook,
she couldn't show her face.
Afraid of what her people might say-
she reopened said lid, state of panic
flipped the basket promptly 'round.
All the little eggs crumbling to the ground.

Babies dispersed;
Children burnt and broken;
not to mention all the vital yolk;
nasty stuff and what a mess-
now onward to face my people.

But all is well;
she gives her spiel
about the alleged evil-doers.
People line-up,
hypnotized-
ready to give their last;
service, duty, and loyalty too
all for Little Miss Liberty.

Quite the siren, ain't she?

I'm a vampire girl and you're my meal,
you know that you are.
I'm ******* on your neck,
like it's happy hour at the bar.
Wait, that doesn't make sense,
who drinks alcohol through a straw?
To each their own, just as long
as your quick on the draw.
Gunslinger,
shooting down clouds like *****,
popping pills,
turning fake nerds into mince-meat.
Shepard's pie,
with extra cheese,
thank you very much,
did I forget to say please?
Where are my manners?
You know I adore you,
I'll do that thing with tongue
and you know I'll show you.