Blue eyes, blonde hair, red lips, intense stare,
self doubt, dark soul, your eyes bore a hole,
hard kiss, quick ****, over fast, no luck,

leaving now, going home, so cold, so alone,
shiver shake earthquake, so unreal, so fake,
tears trickle down my face, so slow, quicken pace,
still there on the brink, another drug, another drink,
block you out, so numb, want to hide, want to run,

Far away, leave it all, the more i think, the more i fall,
Shut my mind, shut you out, feeling sick, full of doubt,
Too hard, you’re always there, look at you, try not to stare,
Fake smile, cold hello, nervous laugh, hard swallow,
little hope drains away, another moment, another day,

Time goes on, hope it heals, because I hate how it feels,
But for now, I crave your touch, I want you now, miss you so much.

I loathe him.
I like the sound of that one.
Loathe. It stretches out the tongue and draws the lips together.
Loathe. Webster's says that it expresses utter disgust and intolerance.

Execrate. I execrate him and all he stands for.
"to declare to be evil or detestable"
Sounds ******, just like him.

I abhor him.
Abhor--to regard with extreme repugnance.
Abhor has that hard air sound in its middle like the sound made when
preparing to spit.
Yes. That works.
Except he's not worth spit.

Here’s what a divorce does:

Divorce
Takes a remnant of a family from the house they moved into 10 years before
when their family numbered 6
then added a 7th

Divorce
Takes them from the house where a new daughter came home
a new Marine came home
the first daughter-in-law came home
the first grandchild came home
the newest daughter to be came home
where we battled illness and survived
where we laughed till we cried.

Divorce
Takes them from the house where friends have gathered to celebrate
birthdays
bonfires
a prom
a dinner dance
a wedding.
Divorce
takes one away
puts two in limbo
makes three leave
four-legged family members
who can’t live
where they are going.

Divorce
shatters family
abandons dreams
mutilates memories
condemns the future.

Divorce
only helps the one who wanted it.

4/13/2012

She makes herself present when you need her most,
not to boast, but this tasty delight will treat you well as she continues to host.
She doesn’t give herself away too much,
****, if it was up to me I’d cop more than a touch;
A squeeze, a whole late night session, to indulge in her taste of imperfections,
Eat her up til I obtain a dental infection.
Not my intention, but her silhouette alone breeds thoughts of sin,
what I would give, to have her all to myself, wouldn’t know where to begin.
Undress her slowly as she teases me,
And repeatedly, she teaches me to treat her with care and show some decency.
But I can’t concentrate, she has my mind in a figure-four,
I'm a carnivore, but she exposes her flesh and I want more and more.
Its all been done before, but in this moment I’m in bliss,
I reminisce, as I write this, and continue to lick her residue off my lips.
She brings so much variety, all of them eyeing me,
Which will I give into as I inspect each of them quietly.

Sometimes she comes bittersweet, sometimes she’s a freak,
But most of the time she’s in a bad mood cuz I just wana beat, or rather eat.
Our relationship is never bland, she always keeps it fresh and new,
If it gets monotonous she won’t even hesitate to bring a friend or two.
She keeps my hands full, and that’s no easy achievement,
But she brings so much to the table its hard to not fiend it.
My favorite color on her, has to be green, not to be obscene,
But I’d tear her up as if though she was in a different team, knowwhatimean?
And after that delight there wouldn’t be much of her left,
Not to be greedy but Im not sharing until I know there’s more to come next.
If not, I’m vexed, I mean, I’m not addicted but I wouldn’t mind another round,
That’s not being spoiled I just want to know what other delights could be found.
Don’t be selfish and sadden me,
give me a taste so I can eat you up casually.
Oh miss candy, you’re just too fancy,
let me get a grip and I’ll put you on the walls like Bansky.

As far as the eye can see,
stretch on the Sky and the Sea,
hoping to meet and merge as one,
maybe..Beyond The Horizon.

I stand upon the shore,
hearing the waters roar,
feeling the wind ruffle my hair,
and seeing the Sun return to his lair.

But my thoughts were elsewhere,
With those for whom I did care,
Gone never to return.
To forget them,I have yet to learn.

All those laughs and smiles,where did they go?
Where is the peace and the warm glow?
More silent seems the world now,
as age tells it's tale upon my brow.

A mother's kiss,a father's shoulder,
forgotten and replaced as I grew older,
by a wife's loving embrace,
and a daughter's beauteous face.

Love leaves behind a smoldering pain,
as memories alone bring them to life again.
But where now is their love for me?
No more tangible,where did it flee?

Just beyond reach or maybe not?
Could reach it if I sought,
Maybe,beyond the setting sun..
Maybe,Beyond The Horizon...

(- This is originally a spoken word poem. Read aloud for maximum exposure.
-Asterisks indicate the necessity to pop your cheek with your thumb.
-Answer the two questions correctly and I will give you a hug.)

He fell asleep while traveling time
where a true name
becomes everything else.
So please give me a minute to explain myself
through the doorways
that I see champagne on a windowsill
walking across the room with blue
and fine china feet
saying again and again
drink me.
Until somehow
the words become a song
singing and swinging the bottle like a dinner bell for thirst.
A kind that we've settled to quench
with television
and somebody else's dream.
So don't pour my drink.
I'm trying to uncork it with my thumbs.

POP

It's flat
and I still have a tongue
so I will use it and I
I will dream of a time
where ******
becomes a baby.
Dr. King becomes a baby.
Until the left and the right and every dead genius in between
becomes
a baby.


Tiny feet trying not to crush the wet salad of the lawn
because it is green,
like my heart
that has learned
how to break fine china.
From experience,
let me tell you
it's a lot more tiresome than a blue dream
but he fell asleep on a boxcar crossing Germany
where mustard gas
drowns you in your own lungs
and he tries to breath between the joints in the track

the

click
...                         
click
...
    clack

as years
hurtle by.

Asking again and again,

"Who killed me?"
           &
"Who am I?",

until dinner was served without grace.
Until my head becomes stiff and bubble shaped
having been conditioned by
their
piles
&
piles
&      mounds

of
obfuscation.


So we should tell all the baby Hitlers,
that become children
that become us,
that a lie
is what you become
when abusing language to distort a reality.

And when you make a fist
you are handing worlds out at random on a silver tongue.
But I still have one
and I still have thumbs
so sorry to burst your bubble but,

POP.

Child,
I don't mean to put
barbed wire
between us.  
I know it hurts
to have something so precious as the world
taken away.
But walls hurt worse
and through them only muffled sounds are ever heard
until your world is made of mute prisoners
that have forgotten what silver
really sounds like.

Blessed be
for I also have ears
so give me second place
and I will throw the medal against your walls.
Ringing out,
the universe doesn't look like an ebony tub,
with knobs we can't ever see,
full of infinite shining marbles to everybody.
Your mind
is a library
so free will isn't a book written in just English.
And tourists,
those know nothing infants trying to travel,
belong
where
           ever they
are
                             going.

Belonging like this medal bouncing trying to sing
off your wall
and
falls

into


your world.

Where again it will ring,

we've all been runner up

and somehow
we still can become disappointments to ourselves
when another doesn't enter our library
instead of loving the stories on our shelves.


So,
let me say grace.
Let me set l o n g tables
with the gruel that's been given
served on b  r                     n.
                         o
                           k  
                                        e          
china,
spooned
with sterling silver.

Q:  When is the right time to tell someone you love them?


A: When it's true.

Doors slam like Satan himself is
in a fit of rage below us, even if he is
in the deepest level of Hell, I feel the floor
shaking like a 6.0 has just swept us but it
is only a consequence of wood slamming
against wood and fists fighting doorknobs.

Voices rise like the temperature in Arizona
in the summer, abruptly, hot and heavy, so
quickly stifling any chance of relief—
anger is an emotion I am far too familiar with.

Some people live quiet family lives, are never
interrupted in their sleep by screams from a
father who dreams of death and a mother who
carries a scythe of shame as if she is the Reaper,
some people wake up in the morning knowing
there is breakfast waiting on the table, fresh eggs
hot off the stove and orange juice with pulp, but
others wake up and make coffee for themselves,
knowing parents sleep past noon and
we are the ones who are doomed to repeat the
history of abuse and psychological suffering but:
we are the ones who will help to stifle the shouts,
to put a stop to slamming doors and shrill screams,
dysfunctional daily routines and waiting for hope
that never arrives, we have had lives consisting
of always having to act stronger than we feel
when the floorboards seem to be breaking just
beneath the force of our feet, because our
bodies are not just our bodies, we are carrying
burdens that weigh more than our bones and
blood cells combined, so when we step on the
scale the number we're reading is really how
much hurt we have been holding, not how
much food we've been hoarding inside of us.

We are the children of complex family situations,
we are spend-more-time-in-psychologist-offices-than
we-do-in-our-own-roo­ms, we are no-parent-to-tuck
us-in-at-night-read-yourself-a-story-it-builds-­ability.
We are daydreams of escaping like Rapunzel,
we are how do I save myself from a nightmare when
I am already awake? We are years of reading self-help
books in Barnes and Noble until we finally understood
that the only thing to do is to help the world help us:
we are strong. And we understand that family exists,
but for us it is different. We are the children who find
comfort in books and coffee and anything outside
of a house so filled with tension and hatred, and we
have been waiting to fix ourselves for too long.

For my "Big Brother".*
Love Always, *****.

You said it was adorable
The way my hair curled
around the hollows of my neck
Brushing across my skin
like a
n o o s e

You said my looks could shatter glass,
that my repugnant features
would SURELY guarantee a life of solitude
You loved to point out my flaws
And how my laugh was too late
breathing too loud
walking too fast

The shallow scars on my wrists
were alluring to you
you encouraged me to make more
and I loved the kiss of cold metal just a little too much
and
you
loved
that
I
loved
it.

You said you understood me
my thoughts were dark and scattered
I wasn't always able to share them with you
But I didn't need to
you already
"u n d e r s t o o d"

my dark companion
the only one I ever trusted
We fought our demons together
Dragging the other to hell as well

You wasted no time in telling me
what a waste I was
of skin
of space
and I wasted no time in  b e l i e v i n g  you

You would hold me in your arms
and whisper bittersweet nothings
compliments with a hard slap attached
convincing me I was far more flawed than I am.

We fought like rabid wolves
growling,
hissing,
howling,
circling,
nipping at my ankles,
you'd force me to f a l l.

tearing and ripping apart flesh
with words
and my feeble palms
left angry red marks on your chest and face
but my struggle only made you more eager

Every tear that fell from my face
gave you life
every sob that came from my throat
gave you a voice
you could not stand alone
you said
y o u  c o u l d   n o t   l i v e   w i t h o u t   m e

You said I didn't understand you
that I could never comprehend the torment YOU
were experiencing
I was FAR too dull to see.

It wasn't until I realized
I didn't need to play your childish games
I didn't need you
or your "passionate, intense" heart.

Once I stopped hitting back
your blows became harder

Not worthy of love.

Not worthy of life.

Not worthy of existence.

And I believed you.
I trusted you.

E n d   i t,
you said.
Peering down at the street far below us

You said to.

The height was dizzying

Y o u   s a i d
"Jump."