I saw a picture of two people kissing.
Their fingers entwined.
Their lips apart.
Smoke billowing from one mouth to another.

I looked away.

No.
What?
This picture isn't meant for me.
Why?
Show this to someone else.
Who should I show it to?
I don't know, anyone else.

I saw a picture of two people kissing once.
My eyes hastened over it.
It didn't feel like it was meant for me.
I rejected the sight of love.
It, quite frankly, repulsed me.

It looked too much like a train wreck.
It tasted too much like scotch.

I poured myself another.

*I would rather brave the headache alone,
Thank you very much.
There's the door.

A tiger at the zoo.
Violent, impulsive, and insatiably ferocious;
To be feared, surely dangerous?
Aging in captivity, he watches the people walk by; who mostly are thankful at him safely set apart from others.

A woman pauses in front of his predicament, and thinks," What folly is this? For I do not fear the untamed, I will test him and encroach upon his pride."
Her reasoning unclear, she approaches that cage;
Not caring whether for her safety, or his-
To **** into action, something that may or may not be safe.

I watched this from some distance, and thought,
"Will she push too far and his animalistic savagery will overcome, to fatally satiate her curiosity?
Or, will he give it no thought at all and  soon expect  his scheduled pittance of flesh to devour?"
After all, I reasoned, he is still a tiger.
I watched intently. And waited...

these are the days of headaches
of calloused grips from writing out the square root of x, y, a million and ten
and erasing, revising
double-checking with a strung-out mind.
these are the nights of skim-milk dreams
with romance [gone sour]
with magic [tricks and mirrors]
with money [down the drain]
and all hours are the same
[all hours are the same]

and we wake, rinse our hair
paste on faces that say Ready to Learn
and work our fingers
numb and
so
tired

all in the name of wishing
to peel off twenties from the paycheck
and slide [folded neatly in
one thick ***] under the edge of
the carpet for something
sweet.

A friendly wave goes ignored
Flip the bird grab attention
Shake hands to be friendly
Flip them off even closer pals
Pat on the back for sympathy
Hugs that are meaningless
Friends might understand emotions
Family doesn't care to understand others feelings
But their own others dont matter
Treat you rude
Respond with the bird
Flip them off all of a sudden they havesomething to say

A monotone voice says no school today
Followed by a hazy sleepy stumble,
Back to sleep right away
Warm sheets embrace me and
Lull back the dreams,
I get comfortable
Allowing for blankets to surround my form
Hold me close,
As no one else can...

No longer the frigged winter but on a beach far far away
The day comes to its end and the sky begins to blush
As the sun kisses her cheek, goodnight
Sand in my toes a lofty breeze in my hair
What more perfect a moment than being free in the summer air?
My subconscious ponders
My heart begins to sting
I am alone.

And so I emerge from my slumber,
For the boy of my dreams cannot be found when I'm asleep.

She danced through the seasons
Wearing and tearing her heart,
Which she wore and showed off proudly,
Awaiting her prince to come ad dance.

The girl had danced before but being as clumsy as she was,
Often fell
And astonished at her lack of grace and feminine manner
Her prince would leave her halfway through a song.
Alone.

As the year's brilliant colors began to fade,
Her hope of finding a prince fell
Along with the dead laves blowing in the wind.

In the deep days of winter
Her dress, the beautiful garment she poured the essence of her being into,
Was ragged and tired.
A reflection of her efforts.
She retired to her seat.
The year was coming to its end,
Like the sands in an hour-glass
There was no time left to give.

But just as the sands were over-turned to start the year anew
This quiet boy asked for her hand to dance.  
He loved every tear in her dresses seams
Accepting her scars and showing her similar burdens he carried.

The two tripped on their words
Laughing, on the ground they fell upon, at the other couples around them.
While they tried to fit societies accepted definition of lovers,
The two enjoyed each others company and got lost in each other's eyes
Neither of the two were good at dancing anyway.
The two ragged lovers thought on this as they held each other
Long past the ending of the ball
While the other picture perfect people ran out of time.

This year was new
This year was theirs

There is a song that skins remember.
A line that resounds in silences.
A form the heart revisits
in fervid recollections.

That you must not speak,
that you must not speak.

Silences can ****.
No need to ask Crusoe.

Stars that explode in suicide:
From aeons of tortuous silences,
from distant companions,
silently cold.

Yes, our silences talk. Sorry, this
was not how it was supposed to be.
Strains of there we go again.

Gulfs of empty spaces between
silent vales, that birth the
mourning winds.

Murmurs leap out like dolphins
out of our silences.

Waiting to hear each other. Past
the dirge at the grave of my errors.