Why do I crave
Your attention
This late at night
All I need
Is your breath
In mine
To stay alive

I thought if I could swallow the stars
I’d be as beautiful as the evening sky
I tried one night    with fireflies
They burned my throat
Their legs striking at soft flesh
But my skin did not glow
No moon crawled from my eye sockets
I was left with corpses in my stomach
I soon learned I would only ever be
A cemetery

Love, with a purpose?
It is always blessed.
It's worth more than your jewelry in a treasure chest.

You can't pawn it.
You can't loan it.
All you can honestly do is own it.

Love, with a purpose.
Is always searched for.
Eventually, you are blessed to make it yours.

You can't run from it.
You can't hide from it.
All you can do is try to deny it.
But eventually, it will be seen.

Love, with a purpose.
Is only hidden in a few?
Because, if you look within a lover's eyes?
It more than lightly be seen.

He spoke.
He cried.
Yes, men do shed tears from their eyes.
It doesn't make them weak.
Even when others come with be a "big man" speech.

His mom.
His dad.
His child or spouse has died.
Yes, men do shed tears from their eyes.

Like women, we feel pain inside.

A child is born.
Yes, he cries.
A miraculous happening occurs.
Yes, he cries.
Yes, men of men shed tears from their eyes.

But don't get it wrong.
We are still very strong.
A man is not weak because of a few tears.

When people annoy me with their
constant complaining or their
non stop arguing, or even worse,
their illogical demands:
"For the last time, you can't buy
***** with food stamps."  Or,
"There is no way a crow took the
rent money out of your hands and
flew off with it."

What I do is close my eyes and
pretend they're squirrels chattering
in squirrel language.  
Then they don't bother me so much.
I just want to reach out and pet them,
or give them a handful of nuts.
It's not hard; half of them look
like squirrels anyway.

My heart is grief,
my skin is blood,
my voice is silence,
my soul is loneliness,
and my promise is broken