"You remind me of my friend." I said.
"Who's your friend?" She says.
"The moon."

Amber soaked sunsets on warm summer nights.
Are just some of the things I can't enjoy without you.

A walk amongst a field of fireflies, is like a walk through the Milky Way.
Just so long as I can look through the darkness and find you.

Fireflies, candles, whispers, and ****.
Blah blah blah
And lickety spit.

You hate your job, I really don't care.
Hike up your skirt.
While I pull your hair.

It's all an illusion, don't be so picky.
Give it a few.
And we'll both be sticky.

The whiskey's gone a cigarette's out.
I'll go get more.
You don't have to pout.

Socrates, Kant, and Tesla as well.
Would stand in line.
To get a whiff of your smell.

We can go again later if you're still here.
I'll get you a towel.
There's some over there.

I'll make us breakfast while you stay in bed.
I'll make you an omelette.
But I want head.

I know it's all sordid and rather risqué.
But life is short.
We all go the way.

Own who you are obscenity and all.
Stand while you can.
For one day we fall.

we didn't have a honeymoon phase
you did
i didn't

i've been up since five last night
drinking in suicide
all of these empty cans lying by my bed side
and it is 6:47 in the morning
i watched the sun rise up with agony
it's the mark of a new day
where i am still here
i didn't open that bottle of pills
it's sitting on the counter, feeling forgotten
i dialed your number on my phone
it's still sitting there on the screen, jumping at me
the big green call button staring at me
it's seven
the daylight is unfriendly towards me
i'll close my eyes again until five tonight
repeating this same old feeling

god, how much i miss my life

i cannot change your heart that i love
and i cannot change your hands that hold me only when i am worthy
i cannot shape and form you and change you, to love me
no, i cannot change anything at all
and it was never of my own fault
i merely tried too hard
all along i was worthy
of a love
much warmer
than yours

For once I think I'll speak clearly. My hands are a megaphone.
I feel like my legs are buried in paper up to the iliopsoas.

                                                                           do you feel it?

I am improper syntax incarnate. My hands are up to my mouth.
I feel like I call to you and you won't visibly position yourself.

do you feel it?

What a tragic life to be terribly lonely so overtly by my own design.
Words I should easily speak disguise in the esoteric words I write.

                              i feel you.
               i do

in fact like an acid trip dusted over days i hang onto every letter

and in the subtle twisting of the pen your vibrations enter my eyes
and in the drumming of your zealous fingers against the keyboard
and in the tapping at the glass as you ignore your text messages

your affecting verse travels my arterials and fills my chest with life

     are we alike?

I can't help but ask it. I sit puffing cherry pie,
feeling quite abandoned. You know the story.

Do you feel absolutely sundered by your insides?
Can't stop the gnawing unless you actualize your leaden brain.

     well adjusted to deep addiction to discord.

and i join your audience in admiration of the grace absent in myself