If
You
Cut
Me,
I
Bleed
Out
Just
The
Same.

Every needle in the wind-whipped pines whispers out a soft "I do"
and the daisies dancing in their grassy ballrooms
"I do, I do, I do"
and the cardinals crowned with Christmas snow
chirping their identical
"I do."
Resonating through the trees and channeled through the earth
in places where the sun shines red
and stars shimmer through the waking hours
"I do."
Perhaps one day
our hearts and lips conform to the rhythm
as we whisper with transparent eyes
"I do,
I do."

Trapped inside of geometric shaped walls
With clouds on the ceiling, the paper crawls
Blue skies for square feet
Polka dot bed sheets
Somehow I can't sleep

Fair-prize stuffed animals strewn around
On the shelves, cabinets, and on the ground
Cuddled in blankets with frozen feet
I attempt to find my escape to sleep

But so much is riddled in my mind
That I can't think in a straight line
You're leaving, going, going, gone
What is right when it's all wrong?
You're not here and now I'm not strong
I should have known this all along

You're so much more than I ever told
Now that we have both grown old
We were fists and fights
Wrongs and Rights
Nights and Lights

But we changed and grew to not spat
We are hip to hip instead of *** for tat
So now it's hard to sleep
Counting minutes
Counting sheep
When you're not here, but in Kentucky

Drinks at the White Horse,
a round of alcohol
painting my throat red
and my words black;
I even spat some out
on the sidewalk,
watched them trickle
in a river
of nonsensical sentences
down the drain.

This pain - temporary
like the night,
bruises I invented
in a flurry of fury,
plum seahorse shapes
coil around the backs
of my legs,
join the dots,
one dollop next to another.

I’ll say I was attacked
by a motley clan of kids
who couldn’t even smoke
cigarettes correctly.
Oh these? Just a scuffle
from three Thursdays back,
I see the Giants lost again
what do you think about that?

Streets,
a swarm of phlegmy students
pouring out a hive of bars,
hacking into handkerchiefs
like broken motors.
Perry Street passes by
in a red-brick blur
and I think I stick
a few fingers up
when a cab shouts
a foreign word at me.

Some wizard
on Waverly Place
***** a girl’s face
so I snort, maybe giggle
a little at how lust
in Winter
is a myth to me.

Earlier in the cinema
I managed forty minutes
before sleep hit me,
no idea if the clichéd ending
came around
but the darkness was nice,
first hug in ages.
My MTV tells me nothing
I didn’t know before -
I live in my fridge
and the bin’s far too full.

The girl at twenty-seven’s
drawn the drapes,
doesn’t know I saw
her husband drop coffee
when the waitress
leant over to swipe clean
a table at Joe’s,
a lime-green bra
or perhaps it was blue,
it was thir- four-
fifteen hours ago?

She’s barely left college
and I’d bet my last four dollars
his son’s pushing
for Ivy League
(probably Cornell).

I fall under the arch,
groan as if I’ve received
a Christmas present
I already own,
feel a tinge of beer
fuzz on my tongue.
Strangers look at me
and know I’m not
no undergraduate guy.
A Labrador
skips past.

I salvage my phone
from the shipwreck
in my pocket,
dial her number,
let it ring
and can’t be bothered
with it all again.

I see rain as if the sky is crying,
Crying for both love and hate.
Feeling, seeing, and hearing the beauty of Mother Nature witch brings us LIFE.
Feeling at peace as the sky is crying. I can see the grass growing greener as the leaves of the tress dance to the wind.
I hear the thunder pounding after the strike of lighting flashing by.
I call this a beautiful storm.

He took the sun and hid it within his flesh
With the light in his fingertips,
He then touched my heart-
To this day it is overflowing with a luminescence far brighter than the one in the sky

His Down's Syndrome makes
His age a tough guess, I'll
Say eight to ten.

Wide eyes on machines,
Ice cream dripping on the
Pavement outside the

Construction site.
I wanna work like this when
I grow up, he says in

Young enthusiasm to a mother
Whose eyes well up with
Gratitude when I approach

And kneel down in front of
Him. So you want a job,
Buddy? I ask him with a

Wink. He suddenly remembers
His ice cream and bites into
It shyly. Nods, glancing at the

Tools in my belt, the scratches
On my arms, the brick wall
I've been attacking with a

Wacker jackhammer. Nods
Again. Well, I'll see you in a
Few years, I say with another

Wink, this time to his mother,
Who'd look her young age if
Her eyes weren't as tired,

But you can start with this
And get some practice. I hand
Him my Stanley Fat Max

Hammer. His ice cream
Hits the ground as he
Recieves it with both hands,

Looking to his mother for
Confirmation that it's ok.
Oh, it is. She mouths a

Thank you SO much...
They walk away, his chatter
High pitched and fading

Around the corner. And I
Head over to the foreman to
Report that I lost my hammer.

Don't ever employ me.
I can work a good game, but
I'm too soft around little heroes.