1
Light dies on its way toward the infinite cold.
Space between points, exploding forever,
If I could look back upon such void,
I would see two solid objects—
You and I at arms.

2
An ageless tree blossoms where no one could grow,
It stands on the precipice, holding sheer rock,
Winds lash from four corners singing— no,
Elements crying— tree is not a tree,
I hold your soul in stone.

You give me butterflies

I've never understood that phrase.
Butterflies are
majestic
beautiful
colorful floating snow flakes
in the summer breeze.

You don't give me *butterflies.

My butterflies
aren't light little fingers tickling me.
They are strong hands
wringing my insides
squeezing them out of me
like I'm a tube of tooth paste.

But what comes out is an unruly passion for you.

It seeps through my pores
and comes as zits on my nose,
but they don't bother you.
My passion
trickles
from my eyes
as tears at night
wishing I could be held
in your strong
yet graceful arms.
It arrives in words,
that I eventually stutter out as
"Hi"
when I'm next to you.

I sit on a porch swing at a friend's party one night.

You sit next to me
and smile
so bright in my darkness.
You whisper to me,
your lips wisp against my cheek
like delicate wings
and take my hand.
You pull a pen out of
your khakis pocket
and draw a
small
simple
butterfly.

And as cheesy as it was you whispered to me

"You give me butterflies"
A huge smile came across my face
glowing with yours in the night.
I took the pen in my hand
and drew another
butterfly
but on your palm
and replied,
*"So do you."

The sky was green, the trees were red
Folks were rising from the dead
I guess I should have stayed in bed
Things were going on in Salem

Zombies walking through the town
The inside of my shorts was brown
What once was up was somehow down
What was going on in Salem

I'd heard a tale of witches three
Who died in sixteen ninety three
They all were hung from a tall tree
In a spot outside of Salem

I checked to see they weren't around
They were still buried in the ground
They lay there silent, nary a sound
But, what was wrong in Salem

Covens, witches, fake or real
Red trees, green skies was quite surreal
For zombies, I might be their next meal
The was magic out in Salem

I did some research and found out
That spells recited round about
By witches reinforced with stout
Would ***** things up in Salem

You see, a spell from in the past
would never work, nor would it last
Especially if it was cast
By a drunken witch in Salem

We found her dancing in the park
She'd gotten drunk just for a lark
She'd been drinking hard since before dark
To cast a spell on Salem

The cops came in and charged said witch
For casting spells while drunk, the *****
Forgot the rules, there lies the hitch
Of casting spells in Salem

Public Intoxicantation , the charge was laid
For all the mischief that she made
Three nights in jail, a fine was paid
Now all is well in Salem

The small grassland hills are dancing.
The sky is blue and the breeze is long,
I reach out, I touch and I look—
Into your eyes, my fingers in your hair.

I always think guys are too good for me.
That they are all out of my league.
That I deserve less than the best
The hand-me-downs.
I shop for guys in
the 99 cent bin
at Goodwill.

I always think that I'm never good enough.
Guys would never want me
I'm no ******* model
My stomach's not flat
and most of the times
I'm unsure how to act
like a normal girl.


But I like to think
that if anything,
I've got a good heart
that's gotta be worth something,
right?