I really want to tell someone
about the things that go in my head,
bu the truth is,
everyone else is busy with someone else.

I' nobody's priority
I chose not to bother anyone
with meaningless problems
that they don't want to hear.

And we were talking, leaning,
and we were staring, thinking,
United in avoidance
And I was wanting
you,
longing to close the distance.

Lea, you
shared your all with me
I knew your mind, heart, insides
I wish I’d known your body
My mind wandered
when we talked about nothing in my car
last summer
I think yours did too
You told your friends about our possi
bility..

Lea you
led me on and I liked it
Played that song in the car and the chemistry was tangible
Wore the tightest top you owned
And invited me everywhere
We laid down together
and my mind whirled
I think you knew
exactly what you did to me, kitten
with a string.

Lea you
Were one of the first to know about me
I’d liked another before you
But you were my real first
And once you led my heart astray
You said I’m sorry, and went away
My sister told me you and I
were better gal-pals than girlfriends
I can’t help but think of you still,
Sometimes.

for years i thought i knew myself
but the wind has blown me astray.
with tears and scars i pleaded in vain...
but the current of time has driven me too far away.

i look back but not a patch of land.
beyond the water was a fading ship
whose waving flag whispered farewell…
and the dying light and frigid sea cast me further and further still.

these solemn nights drag on without pity.
i was alone, adrift in blue that blinded;
carried some place i knew not where…
who knew where i was headed (but deep and dark despair (?))

to hell with it! I leave it to the wrath of the gods--
i am blind to my kismet, like a sailor in foggy seas.
the first patch of land i find--i couldn’t care more
what it was! I just need to find myself (a place where i’d be me).

I want to be a writer -
and like a new poker player -
I'm starting to evaluate my cards.

I post on several poetry sites
I find syncing them kind of hard.

'Cause I'm the model of imperfection
heck, I'm the Edison of mistakes -
a teenager half-heartedly committed
to doing whatever it takes.

Does it help that I'm never happy?
That I constantly make updates?

At times I feel the proverbial cat
chasing its own tail -
but I think I'm making progress
- like a literary snail.