Confessions of a worn out *****,
I swear that he's been here before-
His chunky chorbes and drunken breath,
his after shave that smells like death.
He pitches up after three,
to satisfy his lonely ******.
The leftover ******* of the night,
We share this sickness out of sight.

Confessions of a tired *****,
how I long for an open door.
But there are drugs to pay and bills to eat,
a haze to keep and my face to beat.
My sunken cheeks are racked with lines,
I cover with the shadows that blind,
In the dark I'm beautiful,
when I go down I'm powerful.

Confessions of a former saint,
and the man who's words could make her faint.
Who offered me a brand new world,
and filled my love with heroine.

Confessions of a dreamless sleep,
of days that tick like a foggy mist,
of purpose lost and hope that's fleeting,
of lies and lust and pain that's eating.

(My heart is a stone
encased in ice age glacier
tucked away in the nuclear bunker
surrounded by the Great Wall
if the Mongolians  can't get to it
what chance have you?

Let's say you do manage to Mission Impossible reach it
Let's say you somehow Ocean's One steal it
Let's say you also The Bank Job keep it
How are you gonna get through that ice?

It's so cold Russians call it the nuclear winter
It's so cold Kobe rubs it before the game-winning shot
It's so cold Lucifer uses it as a cooler
It's so cold Ice Queen is now the Ice Princess)

Yet
the trembling rosy lips dissolve the very bond
into silly little ice crystals and snowflakes
resonate so passionately with the frequency
of my stoic heartbeat
the dancing electrons revolted against
ionic-bonds and hydrogen-bonds
the frenzied molecules traded their neighbors
for love, traded themselves for furor
traded ice for fire
traded stone for flesh

and you, traded I for me
hanging ever so desperately on your
red trembling lips
consumed mercilessly
like the very last cigarette
knowing the consequence of letting go:
like ash the wind shall carry me away
a thousand burning ambers flying into the night
like the fireflies on their last journey
I shall melt quietly into darkness
reminiscing about a block of ice.

i saw you
across the abandoned street
flushed in tints pouring out of the moon
soaked in hues dripping down the ruby neon lights
smothered in summer's cool

like
fresh strawberries
plump tomatoes
a fallen rose petal
a pinch of cayenne

no need to turn around
your beauty already pierces the dull city
with the ferocity of a desperate swordfish
watch in smug as it bleeds
so casually through
your waist to thigh

these red eyes
watching in awe as your move
effortlessly around your curves
navigating the stares into
a river of desire
rushing down the hills of San Francisco

yet there you stood alone
the awkward sore on the pale face of street
greeting the thinning traffic with a broken smile
painting the corner with your heavenly red light

Clear off the bed
and come lie next to me
or lie with me
or crawl under these sheets
and die with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Clear out your mind
and sink down low with me
or get high with me
or hold my hand
and lose some time with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Clean up your act
and fall apart with me
or fall, apart from me
or fall, a part of me
and take some time to cry with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Clean out your car
and run away with me
or run to me
or put it in reverse
and go back to the start with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Cleanse your spirit
and embrace this pain with me
or brace for pain with me
or take a moment to put me back together
and just be with me, with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could still get used to this

All are architects of Fate,
  Working in these walls of Time;
Some with massive deeds and great,
  Some with ornaments of rhyme.
Nothing useless is, or low;
  Each thing in its place is best;
And what seems but idle show
  Strengthens and supports the rest.
For the structure that we raise,
  Time is with materials filled;
Our to-days and yesterdays
  Are the blocks with which we build.
Truly shape and fashion these;
  Leave no yawning gaps between;
Think not, because no man sees,
  Such things will remain unseen.
In the elder days of Art,
  Builders wrought with greatest care
Each minute and unseen part;
  For the Gods see everywhere.
Let us do out work as well,
  Both the unseen and the seen;
Make the house, where Gods may dwell,
  Beautiful, entire, and clean.
Else our lives are incomplete,
  Standing in these walls of Time,
Broken stairways, where the feet
  Stumble as they seek to climb.
Build to-day, then, strong and sure,
  With a firm and ample base;
And ascending and secure
  Shall to-morrow find its place.
Thus alone can we attain
  To those turrets, where the eye
Sees the world as one vast plain,
  And one boundless reach of sky.

You brought me ice water.
It sweated on the bedside table
while I took your body into mine.
In your resonant chest there was a quality
akin to fear. Your heart
trembled.

Your fragile bones; I felt them
beneath your skin.

A light came
from your center when you were naked.
I touched your flesh, forgetting my own in
remembering yours.

My hands on your back,
you arched toward me,
your eyes closed.
You clung to me as though desperate
to feel my weight.

Afterward, the glass was empty.
You were spent and I was clothed
in the damp sheet.
A silence hung from the drapes.

These words are only
almost a whisper-

the moon is gently setting
away from you.
The room is losing moonlight;
your light is dulling.

I am forgetting your skin
in remembering mine.