Bittersweet.
And memories of melodies
And Saturday and lies
And motion and immobile
And sand and sea and sky
And friction burns on finger-tips
And any kind of drug
And mercenary changes
And take it with a shrug.
And mornings from the night before
And washing out the stains
And all this joy and comedy
And causing so much pain
And decadence
And cheap pretence
And lie awake all night
And turning round to see you’ve gone
And giving up my sight
And all my lover’s finery her perfume
And her kiss, her love
And her rejection
And all the things I miss
And all my lovers finery her perfume
And her kiss, her love
And her rejection
And all the things
I
Miss…

Daddy somebody shot that man
I heard this eleven year old say
I didn't really understand at the time
I just knew a man was dead

But with the years that followed
I came to learn how much he meant
To this world in its great need
And how well that time was spent

He preached of equality he preached of peace
As he spoke of man as one
He marched his way down city streets
Facing adversity with the face of love

He was done with all the hatred
That fills so many lives
To him color was a vision
Of equality in his eyes

A life so young a life cut short
By the wicked in us all
Will you stand with me and follow him
Will you heed his righteous call

To call every man your brother
The way Martin Luther King Jr. did
To keep the vision of this visionary alive
A reality in which all mankind should live

Perhaps
It is not the sounds of chirping birds I will lazily wake up to
When I grow up
Maybe
It will be because of my 6 a.m. alarm for my part-time job
Perhaps
I will not stay at home watching movies when I have the flu
When I grow up
Maybe
I will be forced to go out and buy medicine for the throb
Perhaps
I will not spend my money on clothes and candy
When I grow up
Perhaps
I will pay off the bills I will be drowning in
Perhaps
I will not travel the world and feed my wanderlust soul
When I grow up
Maybe
I will grow up and old and die and rot in my own skin

And perhaps,
I do not want to grow up anymore;
Maybe,
This life is a road that I should ignore.

                                                             *p.t.

As a bathtub lined with white porcelain,
When the hot water gives out or goes tepid,
So is the slow cooling of our chivalrous passion,
O my much praised but-not-altogether-satisfactory lady.

She faces me,
and I face her,
Dissonance misting the small space between our eyes.
Our understanding,
Our sense.
Peaceful,
but beneath the skin,
The black fangs of rotten desire clench around...

To force back the darkness would be wise,
the odd, clenching pang of want,
just under my tongue.
To not ruin,
to preserve this as it were.

I would **** for such luxury.

Yet still, eyes wander,
shifting to span her up and down,
Eyes map, spanning heartbeats, seconds, millenia,
until that peaces aches within me.

We are balmy happiness no longer.

For happiness is as bitter as the stinging ocean saltwater.
A moment passes.

The air maintains the consistency of clay,
Binding the two.
Yet the hands of anxiety keep a perfect blend from being kneaded.
A moment passes.

A reach, a grasp at any part of one another. To feel, to caress, to intertwine hands as if
python and prey;
All, I find, more adequate alternatives to a denial of the wiles of want.
A moment passes.

With no true friend around I talk to myself.
Or maybe I'll head outside and tune in to the clouds
I've never been intentionally hurt by a flower.
And the grass breathes life into my restless soul.
The breeze carries me away from this plastic world.

I don't belong here amongst the dour faces and slippery minds
Why was I forced to leave the light and inhabit this body?
Some say choice, others say fate. Above me the cosmos twirl indifferently.
A lone tear slowly weaves its way down my creased cheek.

The kind of sobs that shake your entire body
And the kind of pain that starts in your soul
But slowly devours you.

The emptiness that is a dark void, extra space
Hollow and echoing
All around and all inside you.

Everywhere you look is someone happier
Someone more accomplished
Someone more full than you.

Pleasure is just a bridge to the next wide expanse of pain
To the next dense forest of loneliness
To the worst things that find you.

It cannot be expelled by light or laughter
Nor can it be warmly caressed into submission
Because it lives and thrives on you.

It was not your choice, none of it was
You would **** it if you could
You would go back to being you.

Strength comes not from blind bravery and knowledge
It comes from pain and suffering and sadness
That have bowed down to you.

Loneliness doesn't come from having no one around you
It comes from having no one truly with you
But it will never be stronger than you.

It's alright, it's alright, it's all wrong but alright
No one's got it all
But no one's here to save you.

My story ends of sparkle,
Hands, winding me in fable
The dark lines of her lashing eyes
Are burning rings, shear ice,
Covering the lost ponds of spring,
To see her in the ripening fields
Is to know the myriad colours
Of flowers, wild with loneliness,
She is always numbering the days,
Always on parade, hair, with out end,
Tresses trailing the wind.