I want but true affection
rather than that
produced by guilt

desperate to stay one
you succumb to old habits
and donate no reassurance

i doubt
in cycles
and I am at the top of the ferris wheel
i see the land
and not the man next to me

am I more than just a variety
of frozen food and prepared meals
and the occassional agressive "ive missed you"
exhaled between kisses

i am acustomed to your familiarity
and your soap scent
and harsh tongue
your lashes at my best men

but you are calming
but you are rough waves

i am tired of being brushed against the shore
i should be the ocean

**** sapien*
fluid secretion from fountains
   under
      my
         tongue
escape when I talk
fumble over words
pool in the cup
by my bottom teeth
   lower lip ****

and when I spit
all
of my secrets
    those I promised
desertification occurs

i am rock
   knock with bone
dry
come and pick me, cotton picker
the seeds of my ignorant youth
   will
      stab
         at the
            hands
   slaver is hurt

saliva

Can you appreciate what I offer
Those dimples developing in my abdomen
come as quickly as the months
my back is pulled up
crescent moon
hearts
no rest for breaths
I hope those curves
that you once goose bumped remain
stick to me like oats
I desire shape
but adorn bones

My subconscious mind would worry you
lingering attractions
prevail gaps in my desires
I must be missing something
there is something I miss

It was deep April, and the morn
Shakespeare was born;
The world was on us, pressing sore;
My love and I took hands and swore,
Against the world, to be
Poets and lovers evermore,
To laugh and dream on Lethe's shore,
To sing to Charon in his boat,
Heartening the timid souls afloat;
Of judgement never to take heed,
But to those fast-locked souls to speed,
Who never from Apollo fled,
Who spent no hour among the dead;
Continually
With them to dwell,
Indifferent to heaven and hell.

i thought of you this morning when i was stood up for lunch
and i drove by your neighborhood
but that house is emptier than even my stomach
now churning, and up to no good

and it's not from the food
(or the lack of it all)
but a process now picking up pace
a cancerous longing,
a wish left to waste
a silence
a rage
now taking it's place



well, i've been spendin my time just walkin the streets
and making friends with all the dumb insects i meet
and the moths have been asking me for a light
and i know i'll oblige them, it's not worth the fight
and they're swarming around me, every which way
and just blocking my visions, aiding decay
and their suckers make shapes, yeah they pierce like a knife
and it kills me to tell em
you're not part of my life
anymore.

He told me, "Sometimes,
love isn't enough." Well yeah,
if you're a man-*****.