i thought i liked to ****
rough, *****, ******.
but i'm only ever
sad
after.
i'm only ever
wishing that they didn't
leave me
laying there
like a used vessel
that has merely
served its purpose.

i thought i liked to be
empty
but i'm only ever
wanting for someone to come
pour their heart out to me
so that i might
carry a little
something of them.

i thought a lot of things
and now i
can only think of
how incredibly
quiet it is inside my ribcage

The sun sets
It marks me
Not just me
But the world
As it shines through the clouds
Piercing their veils
It shows me
Shows me more than ever before
I see the world In a strange clarity
In a manner I have never seen it before
I look forward
I resent the past
But now there is only the future

“Are you the boy? Or, Are you the girl?”
Society gets this idea that being gay
One has to be the ‘Boy” while the other the “girl”
But in truth one cannot be the girl.
For there are two guys.

Pop a few Bukowskis to set the day off right
And sip a little Hemingway to keep me feeling bright
Smoking on that Ginsberg, mind is opening wide

Doing lines of Robert Louis Stevenson,
and a Hookah full of Baudelaire
Ingesting Kerouac, it feels good I swear
Coleridge into my lungs, floating on thick air
Shooting up some Burroughs, my literary affair

I begin to lose sight of reality, taking some Cocteau
Tripping with the Kesey, my life is nearly through
A final hit of Huxley as transcendence I try to pursue

But old Walt Whitman, is where I say adieu.

Before my father died I bought a ***
with a small plant, a fragile sapling
with pale green dotted leaves. He came
to my place to see me, bringing a slice
of watermelon with jagged green stripes
on its rind. He placed it in the fridge and
looked at me, asking with stern eyes: “Do  
you forgive me?” I didn’t understand his
words and I answered “Yes” with all my
heart, stabbed by his stare that moment.

He died a few days later, after calling me on
the phone, saying that I should move into
another house. I did that, taking with me
from that place my small green plant beginning
to rise. I placed it on my desktop, letting it grow...
leaf after leaf from her thin stem, like a stairway.
Eight years passed and she’s my only child, my
only friend, my only lover. She grew steadily
and slowly, I changed her compost a few times.
She’s still here, my small calico greeny treasure.
Two years ago I became a proud grandmother
for three new shoots, stemming at her feet.

I had to tie it to a plastic stick to help it grow up
And when I look at it I still can see my father’s
eyes, taking hold of my heart.

That's you out there,
completely exposed,
lying sprawled across the double yellow line,
trying to keep it all together,
but you've already lost control,
your eyes are empty,
they lost their light,
I can see the dismay,
what are you doing to fill the void?
The cars may come,
their lights will shine,
they won't stop to help,
they won't see you,
it's too dark and so are you,
their tires will crush your body,
you won't be able to take the weight
and then you will be nothing.
You can't just lie there hoping it will change,
get up, move,
it's your life,
don't let it waste away.

there is alcohol
running down
my throat,
tears running
down my face,
and blood
pouring from my heart,
and i am not okay.