I remember the thunder
Cascading down your spine
The night that you told me
Our love was now all mine

I remember a bang
Then nothing else
I watched you
The magician
Work your last trick
And out from your hat
A serpentine

How could I not have heard the cries
How could I not have read the signs
Howling wolves come late at night
Procure their next delight

I was a paper plane
And you were the eye of the hurricane
I was a skeptic slip
And you were the robe beneath my feet
I was a butterfly with a fear of falling
And so you clipped my wings

You were the ink
Spread out on sheets of unused paper
Line after line
Stroke after stroke
Vestal canvas
Tainted over time

Now I grab your fingers
Now I run away
Now I'm swirling in slabs of sapphire
Falling wave after wave

Now I'm crouched beneath my sink
Crying
Now I load old pills in my gun
Take aim
And fire
Cremate all of
My desire

Now I walk on all fours
Primal
Sleeping on the debris
Of my defeat

And watch you sheathe your two front teeth to taint your next great masterpiece

~~
Then, if ever, is the red color grows fade
The petals of red roses drop
If the birds don't sing any songs
And even a butterfly doesn't
Play on a purple flower

If the mistake happens in the rain
You 'll not cry
You can't be afraid of thunder
They will cleanse you

And when I am gone
Forgive me, but the melody in the air
You will come, playing in the garden,
Dance with the lost grasshoppers

Any yellow day when red flamboyant will be bloomed
Will have to take off your colorful sunglasses
At the very noon will be floated on the Cuckoo's love song
Again and Again it will prove your arrival,

O' Spring

You'll be the very white sky after rain
Will bloom red hibiscus
On that gilded day  
Red flamboyant 'll be loved with yellow flamboyant

Patched up with melody and words
Will be made new Songs,
New Poetry,
With the yellow flowers tune

Then again,
You 'll not  sing a song of despair,
Not even a song of hiatus,
Will sing the Songs of Joy,
Stir in the way of dreams,
Mating

Back to again and again
I 'll come back to you
Both 'll make a love  
For the creation of a new life
~~

Her fingers danced
Along my ribcage
As she told me why
I must be having pains
In my chest.

Her fingers danced
On my *******
As she cupped them sweetly
And nuzzled between them like
She's always belonged there.

Her fingers danced
Down my spine
As she counted the freckles
On my back and made constellations
Out of them.

Her fingers danced
In my hair
As she grabbed close to my
Scalp and pulled where she knows I'll
Respond with "Ohhh".

Her fingers danced
Down between my thighs
Floating above the ocean below and
Diving in to explore her sea.

Her fingers danced
Around my neck as her
Hands cupped my face and
Kissed my lips gently but
With a fire that only I could
Recognize.

Her fingers danced
As they intertwined with mine
Because what is more intimate than
The innocence of hand holding
With a promise of forever
Imbedded in our fingertips?

I'm not sure where I stand,
or if I'm even in the same room,
as him
to her
I might be on the curb
burning my fingers
with cigarettes smoked to the ****
waiting on a new face
to pick me up
and take me for a spin
teach me how to hold hands again
peel away the lamenent
call me human and
drive
drive
drive
far from all the hurt
till it doesn't matter
where I stand
with
her

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.