It’s the strings of a guitar that remind me of coca butter skin. A warm-hearted harmony transfixes my mind to the california king with ripped bed sheets.  If only you hadn’t tickled the left side of my heart, I could’ve hidden my smile.  You were unexpected, a scientific anomaly.  Blind sided by nervous laughter and beautiful eyes, You’re my Sandra Bullock. You’ve saved me from the darkness of my heart, from all the self-appointed doubts and belief I am everything... But a good man.  It’s the white of your eyes that tells me I’m safe, the dimples of your smile let me know, you trust me. In the years before you, I lived like rusted iron, never thought about, never cared for, looking used and broken.  I was all of these things, because I wanted to be.  I feared of caring, petrified to look into blue eyes, saying, I love you. Weather with luck or broken tan lines, you’ve frozen my fear.  Our first memory is beneath bedsheets, hiding from the friends on the other side of love.  If curiosity kills the cat, I believe I have 8 lives left.  That’ll be long enough to show you that wrinkles above your nose during laughter, is the cutest feature I see.  It was a clouded night sky when we first swapped, I love you’s, I still smell the apple pie we shared.   I’ll cross my heart, hope to die if I forget our five hour mindless midnight argument, we are young adults with minds of children, only we find ice skating funny.  Everything I have is yours, praying that it’ll be enough because when the sky falls down, I’ll want to be standing right next to you.  You’ll be the calm before the storm, the rainbow after rain has seized it’s descent toward troubled grounds. When oceans become puddles, I’ll look back for nervous laughter and beautiful eyes, saving me from the darkness of my heart. I know it’s darkness shall never return, the white of your eyes enlightens the charcoal pieces.  So when the sun burns out, I’ll never be afraid. I’ll have you shield me beneath bedsheets, hiding from those on the other side of something, not yet known.

It's been days since I've seen you.  Your sharp blue eyes are starting to drift away.  Your freckled face has faded itself to white.  I wish you would talk to me.  My head tells me your sorry, but my heart says you're playing me like a drum.  I can't tell you how much your voice excites me.  The tone in which you speak can make my body, tingle.  Too bad you ****** that up.  how dare you try to force me into the oblivion that is your love. You've been all the things i never wanted and the best thing I'll never have.  I won't apologize for the lies you told, I won't feel sorry for the things you did.  I'll just smile, saying "thank you, please don't come back again"  contrary to popular belief, I think you're ******* beautiful... in your own mind.  I hope I don't offend you with these words.  your arrogance is blinding, ignorance is bliss.  Take time to think about this, you won't.  your too stubborn to give in to your long-lost confidence,  your too divided by the drama and cigarettes, I can see right through you.  I guess, you've given in to all the thing I said you would.  I'm tired of giving you all the answers, have fun with life's test, all of what I've said is lost because, Its been day since I've seen you.  Those blank blue eyes, have faded to black.

Maybe it was the first time I gazed upon brilliant brown eyes that needed a second look to satisfy my desire. Maybe it was the moment when greetings dropped from your mouth, my eyes transfixed on the sound resonated from within. The seconds we spent swapping hellos down hallways made my smile glow, I can’t define perfect but, you’re the only one close enough to tickle its chin.  Skip five paces forward, now we aren’t like two peas in a pod, we are too tight to snuggle up close to anything.  I can still smell the scent of cheeseburgers and teenage angst as you and I wasted away our day with jokes filled with *** innuendoes and american stereotypes. The face you make when laughing causes me to reclaim my thoughts of what universal beauty can be.  You made forest fires look like buckets of ices when you stepped in a room, wearing that navy blue dress with ruffles filled with humility and self-confidence.  Maybe it was the moment you can to me for help. I would do anything for a third look at brilliant brown eyes, enough time for me to escape any painful memory from first period.  It could have been the first time I saw you blush when I called you beautiful. Rosey red cheeks never looked so good on tan skin before. I don’t think I could go without saying, it might have been the first time I was able to wrap my arms around your waist and lift you from tiled floors, giving you freedom to fly. My dear Julia, I hope these words shine a light of perpetual friendship, because that’s all I’ve ever wanted from you. So in your native tongue, Eu te amo.

I
Am
An american
I take too much.  
I take everything for granted.
I have more than enough food to feed a family of ten,
Why not waste a meal or two,
who am I really hurting?
I don’t see the scars I’ve dug down deep in the skin of others.
I don’t know the pain I’ve caused.  
The wounds are oozing over but,
I don’t have to worry because
Momma says “shh, baby, it’s okay”
If only she knew that I’ve sent a 6 year old boy in a grown mens battlefield,
land mines and bullets surround him,
I’m corned by MTV re-runs and empty Pepsi cans.
I’ve never had to deal with the pain of watching my mother be beaten in front of my eyes
Just to instill my loyalty
I’ve never watch everything I love burn down to the ground,
I’m too busy chatting up the latest blockbuster movie.  
The money won’t pay for the 9 kids walking the streets,
It’s not much of a game when theres actual lives on the line.
They’ve been bashed and bruised,
Claiming their okay,
Even they know Mona Lisa has a fake smile.
I wish I could show the demons I’ve sent out in the world
They’ve been torturing the souls of the weak and hopeless
I’m hopeful I’ll catch the next Jersey shore episode.
How can you expect me to understand my devastation
when I’m told it isn’t even my fault.  
I’ll never be able to tell you all of the wrongs that I’ve done, because I don’t even know what they are.
They’ve been melted and creamed in a blender
Take a sip from the cup of destruction
Genghis Kong
would be proud.
I guess I’ve taken too many steps in the wrong direction,
make an exception
because the expectation, is that
I can’t be the one to blame.  
My pride is set before the fall of ours,
I’ll never get to see where they land.
Maybe they can find their way to a place where they can hurt people freely.
They’ll take too much.
Take everything for granted.
They’ll waste a meal or two
But,
Who aren’t they really hurting?

I was once told to edit the world. I grabbed my colored pencils, my childish ideals thinking I could simply, go over the imperfections left by my predecessors. Soon I would come to realize, life is no etchy-sketch.  I could shake the world, twist, mold into anything I wanted.  It’s still ****** up.  I’m still trying to color the problems.  I shade the unwanted, masking it over so I can pretend it’s gone.  My day dreams continue further as I sketched over past memories,   just want to edit the world.  But, colored pencils become daggers when in the right hands.  I’ve leaped into this idea with no plan, Standard american wisdom.  Act first, question later.    my first action should have been to ask, is the world a canvas?  Maybe it’s a kindergarden sandbox, 5 year old fists and 6 year olds toes smash and pound through.  Maybe it’s a thunderstorm because, I was told life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. All I’ve seen is dark clouds and lighting.  Maybe the world is me.  Poetic angst without fail, too much energy to use, to many words spoken at a rapid pace. Maybe the world is you, you, or you.  It’s not just its own story, it’s a combination of auto-biographies still being written.  Maybe... Just maybe, we are all editors.  The world is constantly being edited, no single person should aim to do it themselves.  Our world is force, a group, a team, a family taking the pens from our mothers and fathers, writing our chapters into the guide on how to edit.  Sooner rather than later, we’ll pass our pens down to those who will write the chapters we never get to see.  Hopefully, 5 year old fists and 6 year old toes become 20 year old champions and 30 year old heroes. We can share our stories, filled with the people we’ll never forget, and the nights, we can’t seem to remember. In the end, editing the world will never finished, it can be forgotten.  We hope shedding sun rays on a rainy day, might convince our successors to never forget.  Sadly, We can only hope they wish to edit.

In the moment I heard your sweet embrace was lost, I could see the safety orange jacket, six layers beneath that coat of so-called protection.   I can hear the cracks of the leaves beneath your boots, the ever-moving grip of your hand on your gun.  I can feel the tension tipping timelessly toward the moment the grip changed from the gun to something more... precious.  Step by step, you’ve made all the right moves in all the wrong places, and now that snapped twig underneath your foot has become more than a distraction to the deer.  From afar, another like you hears all the steps you’ve taken, and being gone with the wind, he takes his shot, in hopes for the prize buck.  You are a prize, but one meant to be shared, and still around to give your little girl the power she needs to get passed all the boys you wish she’d never met.  I can see your eyes passing through you’re fondest memories, you had no time for all the things you would never do, your humor and love of life out weighs the pain everyday of the week, and twice on Saturday.  I can remember the first time I met you.  I have met dad’s before, but, you will forever be my favorite. If only you’re gentle hands could rest on our shoulders, just one. more time.  I wish I could tell you all the things you want to hear, but, it’s not my place and, not my time.  but, i do know that your babygirl is safe, she’s still the best part of you and she’s going to shine like the princess like you know she is.  your wife, your best friend, she’s going to be the best person she can, like you know she has for so many years.  So, yes you’ve passed on to the next great adventure and we all miss you, but always remember P.J.K., you’re gone, never forgotten.

I didn’t see it coming,
It wasn’t set on my nightly planner.  
4 sober hours ago seem so far away now.  
On my left hand,
cherry red lipstick smug stains shows memories of a forgotten night that I’ll always have to regret.  
See, I only wish it was lipstick.  
Truthfully, I know that 2 hours and a 5th of ***** earlier I was all to worried about which girl I want to take home.  
Stumble 1 drunken hour later,
keg stands and **** rips have me defying gravity and federal law.
My beer googles are activated,
I’m captivated with the idea of driving.  
30 smashed minutes forward,
I finally reach the forbidden fruit with
2
beautiful blonde blue-eyed babes.  
Tumbling into our seats,
we were invincible.  
Plastering our way forward through empty roads and city streets,
I’m reminiscent on stop signs and brake lights.  
I hear cherry red lips speak sensual words into my ear,
whispers of achieving my goal.
It’s stated eyes are windows to the soul,
this is true because I could see it in the reflection of pupils,
a single tree along with it.  
I turn my beer goggles quick enough to see this wasn’t a tanked-up nightmare but,
the bark of a beast that makes no noise.  
I saw 2 beautiful blonde blue-eyed girls fly threw my windshield,
I wonder what their moms will say.  
I got wrecked to wreck the lives of not only myself but
of entire families and lives
that weren’t even created yet.  
I’ll never know the wonders I killed,
the hopes I stabbed,
the dreams I cut down deeply into their veins and watched them bleed out.  
30 somber minutes I spent finding nothing else to blame,
it’s all on me,
I was the drunk judge, jury and executioner.  
Now, I look to my left hand,
wishing 4 sober hours ago,
I could’ve saw it coming.