I like to read love poetry to help me fill in your outline.
Love poetry meaning,
I got my guts kicked out by a falling star the other night.
Your sweater came unraveled after a dose of moonshine.
Someone forgot to turn on the Eiffel Tower again
(they must have flipped my switch instead).

I guess what I'm trying to say is,
I'm holding myself in a continuous state of
"why can't you just take out the garbage"
and
"my garbage
(socks and kleenex and so many strands of DNA)
is all over your floor and maybe I'll pick it up later"
and
"leave it, don't touch it, so perfect, right now, even if it's ******"
and
"I found this box and I want hide every remnant of any interaction and I make big messes but every Sunday is my cleaning day and I will remove every trace of you and me and socks and I and intertwined DNA"

I like it when my guts scream.
Not from the Indian food
(no thank you)
but from my imagination,
always four score and seven years of full speed ahead.
I like to think my mucosal membrane knows how to respond
when assaulted with good life intention.

Mistah Kurtz—he dead.

      A penny for the Old Guy

      I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

      II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer—

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

      III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

      IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We ***** together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

      V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
                                For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
                                Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
                                For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

I close my eyes and think about evaporating...

First my eyes.
Eyes tight shut, I imagine my evaporating eyes streaming into the sky like cigarette smoke.
                                                                                                                                                       No.
             Eyes are much to dense to rise.
            
Slowly at first then faster,
    the fog rolls out of lids
                      flows down my cheek
                                 like the smoke from dry ice.

My skin gently wafts away in the still, calm breeze

My hair like a candle flame,
                      flickering and swaying in the wind.
                                   Growing larger and smaller and larger again

My muscles sink to ground, spreading in a misty puddle beside me.

I can feel the hollowing of my face,
                 wind scoops caverns out of my cheeks and temples.

Finally only my bones remain.
                             Steaming hot in the cool air.

Along comes a gust of wind.
                       My bones are swept into the air like ash,
                                             my flames extinguished.

I guess it doesn't matter how much  I love you,
   you don't even like me.
But for all the while I've loved you,
  it's only just occurred to me...
  I don't like you either.

Destroy and enjoy the meanings that are unknown.

I heard a waterfall crashing down suddenly
It was wrapped around a restless picnic of sorrow
Tears were shed for the boy that went missing ahead of the morning dew
The mourning shade often covers the vast array of lies in a lover’s last verse
And it loves to embrace the ends of the message unspoken.
Although salvation bleeds upon the reasons;
The smells moving cannot flow wild enough into the sinking reasons that are unknown
And the insane fragile moments release a certain fury,
That the tides cannot unleash in such a hurry!
The heavy load of mistakes in your overflowing mind
Must carry like the mist that flows through a vacant lot of bad luck.

God bless this atmosphere that I am trapped under
Like a rock stuck in a plain circle.
I chose to forget the waters that once made me so happy.
I got so far away from the numbing sounds that tried their best to **** the sadness,
Just so I could see if I could actually do it on my own. . . and you know how I listen so well.
You took the words right out of my mouth.

In this tight turning hour of chance
Strangers hold these sayings
That are stuck like four minutes for four minutes after eleven seven PM
And this gives me a stumbling southern draw that could collapse suddenly
In the sleeping yet impending doom that is waiting patiently outside of your mind.
I’m watching the shell to see if it fits or breaks when moved near the bear in the room
That would refuse the birds so violently yet greet and guide the ***** burnt sweat-stain
From the other side of the tracks edge inside for a cup of your finest tea.

Their ability to fail doesn’t worry me, so I climb to the top of the fights in the tree limbs.
All the while buzzing and shaking the bay that abused me
and stripped me naked in those tattered streets.

Hit rewind and get back to the obvious yet sudden shock
When women appeared softly
Then ripped the lovely big sunset out of your wanting hands.

Flutter flatter flit flip flap
Clap chat chapped lips
Leaking secrets
Speaking softly
As the world whirls by
And faded faces blur together
On panes of plate-glass windows
Strolling silent streets and
Dreaming of anywhere but here

Pitter patter pretend
We’re on the
Tip top of everything
Taping together
Our own reality
Far removed from truths that
Could tear it tear us apart

Flash frame freeze forget
Flit flap free-bird fly away

Fast fly far from
Tick-tock towers
Click-clack-clocked lives
Empires encircling
Pretty-please prepackaged people
Dipper dapper dressed-up doves
With withered windless wings
Locked-up longing lost
And just
Looking for anywhere but here

And their

Haunted hollow heartbeats
Wind between our whispered words
Weaving these tangled tapestries
Tying together all the
Maybes memories melodies
That we carry
All the struggles and scars and
Shatter-glass shiny bits of
Hope-light heart-love

That we call a human soul

Tumble-down words
Tangled around
Delusions
Tell me:

How many lies would
You tell me?
It all seems so **** easy…
How many times would
You tell me,

Those words you
Know I want to hear?
Those words that
Made it seem like we were
More
Than just a pair of
Bodies pressed together
By our own lack of self control;
No.

No more.

No lines, no rules, no trust
And I swallowed every word
No protest, so absurd
They seem now
Wrapped up in smiles
Disguising the fact that
You...

You got what you
Came for…

Didn’t you?

I love you.
But I shouldn't.
There is someone else
who makes me happier
than you ever did.
But
they don't have something
that you have.

Something special,
that made me want
to care for you
and forgive
even when you were
hurtful to me.
Something special,
that made me want to know
all of you,
that there was always something missing
in you
and I had to find it
somewhere.

I never saw your eyes.
I think they are grey
as you told me.
I wish I could see them.
It's been years since I've gazed
into your pool
of wonders
and horrors.

I heard your voice
barely.
If you count
distant words
spoken into cups,
with no string,
talking of nonesense things,
like how the wind
moves through the field
we sat together in once,
once.

I've known you
ever since we were toddlers.
About ten years now
but I feel like I don't even know you.
Every time we strike a conversation,
I get shy
timid
nervous
that I'll say something wrong
that'll make you leave me forever.
It makes me feel
like we are meeting for the first time.
Like we are falling in love
all over again.

I miss you.
My heart aches for you
so much.
Somedays not as bad.
And some
I can hardly take the pain.
Someday we will be together again.
And everything will work,
everything will fall into place
and we can be happy again.
There will be no 2000 miles
between us.
But we have to wait,
and I will wait
as long as it takes.