So many things can be said in a few wistful sighs
I can read your thoughts by looking in your eyes
Too many times my whispers have not been heard
Too many days have passed without saying a word
So many things have been said between truth and lies

So many times I've tried to reach and touch your heart
I can still see the tears where it's been ripped all apart
Too many years you've simply just ignored your scars
Too many dreams of yours have yet to reach my stars
So many times I've tried to show you, you're a work of art

So many dreams can be shared between lovers and friends
I can never imagine a moment where the dreaming ends
Too many lyrics in way too many beautiful songs
Too many notes and tunes to discover in which I belong
So many dreams, time to find in which my heart mends

dreams in colors that don't exist,
and 'mares re dear sir, deadlines missed,
wrestle~arrest poet,
instant awake
in the wee time,
pouring liquidity,
fluids and words,
puddling, stinking,
coming,
from the
always dangerous,
always interesting temple inner inside,
sanctimonious no more sanctum

this particular sleep,
shortened, irretrievable,
bookmarked "closed,"
chapters,
hours too soon,
this rest business,
arrested
filed in an ugly
grey metal file cabinet,
in an unfinished manila prison
with your other unimportant poems

the dark room universe
populated by
hints, shadows, voices,
waiting, welcoming,
mirrors on the walls
unified in one voice
deep, obtuse,
demanding recognition
"hither hither come"

forced march
to a visitation,
to the the parition,
of your reflection,
clearest ever seen,
in the black pitch,
uncovered by guise, feathers
the clothes of normative pretenses,
the man-made borderlines of
preservation falsehoods

seen your own semblance,
parts rearranged,
uncanny,
the mirrors are screaming:
shameful lovely,
this, our artistry,
your apparition,
now accurate,
reflecting your under-
lying
condition,
at last,
an accurate portrayal,
of your inaccuracies

do you find yourself attractive?
this new balance,
the unregulated pieces
of you
before your dissembling,
discerning,
dissecting eyes?

feeling the valence,
an introduction,
a physical magnetism
any attraction
any resemblance
to the semblance
that writes
this s.o.s.?

answer us thus,
do you up
and like yourself
unvarnished,
grunge, swag,
truth  trammeled,
don't you want to kiss yourself
goodbye,
or better yet,
fare thee hell?

go ahead,
ask yourself now,
that one question
that prevents conception,
from your inception,
what is it that
makes you exceptional?

don't you realize,
everything about you
ends in a question mark?

how dare you write poetry?
you are the false poet,
you live on the division
tween artifice and self-deception,
this, your only precept,
and now that you are
clarified,
answer this,
knowing you know
nothing
but artifice,

**how dare you write poetry?