I run to be
only with myself
to help me
I run and wash away my surroundings
with music, and thought
I run and imagine
myself
with two inches between my thighs,
with ribs on my chest,
and hip bones showing
perfectly symmetrical
I keep running
I imagine running
far enough
that the undesirable pieces of me fall to the ground
I run and hope
it will be an instant change
I keep running
and running
I run and wonder
if he will drive by
I run and wonder
if he'll wave
I run and wonder
if I will wave
I keep running
and running
and running
I run and hope
no one is home when I get there
I keep running
and running
faster
I run and want
to be irresistible
unstoppable
I run and try to focus
I keep running
and running
and running
faster
and faster
and faster
until I think, "is this actually helping me?"
I don't care
I keep running
alone with my dangerous thoughts
I keep running

Fire burning in the depths of my belly
Undercurrents of deep red passion
Lingering over the places that you've been
The fingertips that graze my skin
Are pleasure inducing tools
Goosebumps raise and shiver on the surface

It is nothing compared to what lies within.

Just this once
became nights spent
lying spine to spine. 
And now you have her:
a skeleton that matches,
more or less.
I'm left with what was
never spoken,
nothing
But convenient.

Hello to you again, my dear. Did you dreadfully miss the nights of wild forbidden promises we shared? Or the charms we stole from our hearts?

I know you missed me, for how could you not when I became the best lover you’ve had? You spoke of love. I speak now of hate and fate. Wow! They ****** rhyme!!

As you can see, or read as you will or are:  sarcasm has replaced you in my bed.
I go to sleep dreaming up bitter words in which to throw at you when you come to me.

****, you won’t ever go away: Will you? No I suppose not.  Well and so to you lover. I tip this glass of Absinthe and ***** to the pastoooooooooo. For everything you taught my body. All the ways you corrupted my mind. And to every day your hands touched and teased my skin.

God, did I love you? Yes, perhaps I did.  Or as my friend, my only companion is whispering in my ear: “Lust won again, dear.”

Hopefully I’ll hear from you in another year. ****, did it again. ****** rhyme.
Reminds me of you.  Perfect:  Not again ooooooooooooo.
Silently screams, but not for you:  and defiantly not because of you.
(Sarcasm is so much better than you.)

If you were still breathing in my universe,
I might see you as a
mediocre
being.

But it seems that, as you are;
uninvolved and out of sight,
I see you as I last saw you -
    a large, black, grimace
    on the face of true self.

Oh, I'm not angry or saddened.
In fact, I'm grateful!

But that doesn't keep me
from seeing all of your negative energy
as it swims around,
******* itself
into it's own black hole.

It's interesting how,
when I first loved you,
I was blind to your darkness.
and,
when I first hated you,
I was blind to your light.

Either way,
I was blind
during all of our firsts.

I do not hate you and I haven't
for some time.

But that grimace
is a tainted memory that,
no matter how many times I cross-examine it,
seems to hold as much truth as you do.

Who knows, really,
     who you are?

Who really knows anyone -
    loved, or not?
    hated, or not?

I certainly don't know you,
and I probably never did.

As light fades to blackness
It all becomes clear
The longer I stay
The less I hold dear
To stay in a world
That's shivering cold
I'm curious to see
When I'll fit in this mold
With everyone else
Who it seems so clear
With menI can't tell
What I'm still doing here

I breathe.
In out.
An exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide
between my lungs and an unforgiving world.
how many breaths does it take to get to the end of a life?
filth slowly filling up our lungs.
slowly killing us.
we can stop it though.
we can end it early.
we have the power.
but we will never know the answer to the on going question;
*how many breaths does it take to get to the end of a life?

The yellowed dome cracks upon the surface
Of the moistened soil that stretches  to make
Their way, emphatically filling most base
Space between dried stubs of flesh - never fake
Fruitless fingers - cracking, brushing, but now
Healing by comforting the path I pursue
          With the wake of the rooster.

Home left warming behind, I gallantly
Saunter toward more humid, fume-fed airs
While leaving the thoughts that so quaintly
Filled my head, forgot to ingrain, and failed,
          Allowing growth to myself.

Sun hung, high-noon, the dew fades all too soon
Creating a creaky concoction kept
Together (of sounds) by bare breaking-bones
Feet against gravel, dusty, rocky steps.

Sky set so wearisome and pink, I fall
To my knees in the midst of high terrain
Marked by thin grasses and rolling hill plains;
As I beg for mercy, not from this all-
Endowed sight, but from God(s) who seem only
To make this life right - I'll collapse further,
My hands move mountainous dirt and holy
Diadems of twig, while I decide - worth
          When shall I dig?