i drip my arms over your tired shoulders.
my hands cascade down your paper-thin back.

you're always crying.

and you're terrible wings tremble, but my dew-soaked fingers are
nimble
and unkind.

this is why no one can love me.

my heart is ill and beating with the strength of a
dying light.

pulsing off and on and off and on.

i carry scissors.

while i hug my poor self,
i clip my wings with the ease of a
psychopath.

there is an end somewhere
but not here.

Love's a funny thing
That makes your thoughts go fuzzy
Mine were short to begin with
And with you,
It's like I'm surrounded by
Lovely things
Things that used to seem bland
And useless
They become reanimated
With little traces of you
Everywhere I go,
I think.  

You are my rock
Not to sound cheesy
You keep me going
I crave your company
Each simple thing I do
Will never be enough
Nothing will amount
To your perfection
And every single day
I try.

I'm no good a poems
I like to draw
But every sketch of you
Doesn't come close
To those eyes
Those lips
That neck
Your smile
But all the while
I draw.

I sit alone feeling lost
With no arms around me
No one to whisper in my ear
But I think of you
You're always in my thoughts
No matter where you go
I remember.

I'm sorry my poem to you isn't so grand
Nothing about me is
So it makes me wonder why
Someone so perfect as you
Would settle for the
Normal
That is me

I may never know.
  
But I do know
That
I love you.

I give him a few ***** of crumbled up bread
And watch him dive off of the telephone wires

Hes a vetran

Has he learned to forget about public opinion?
Or does he even care.

                     I dont know who he harmed.

Seems movies have tarnished the crows motive.

Hes a menace?            I guess hes born to be the way he is.  A menace.

                               Though, I dont know the truth about crows

           I just like seing him fly  by once in a while,  ill always prepare

                                          a meal   

                                                        and watch his hungry soul get something good.
                                                         After all he is someone I cant decline a visit from.

I wanted to write a love poem
But I realized
You're too perfect for words.

It
took me
losing everything
to finally realize how
much something as small
as a scrambled egg could make  
a difference in the way
you look at people,
nature, things,
even joy
Fin.

First there is the prep.
The roommate.
Wearing salmon colored pants.  
He has Shaggy from ****** Doo
On his left thigh.
The alcoholic.
She has a drinking problem.
She is in denial of her drinking problem.
She hangs out with the loners.
The loners.
Unkempt, unattractive and fat in all the wrong places.
The blond looks like Tom Petty.
The one with dark hair, glasses and braces
They live next door.
Living together but segregated. 
Wild cards.
All of us.

©Gambit '13

daddy daddy, where are you going?
I turned three today, are you happy?
are you leaving just for a minute?
why did you pack your stuff?
daddy, can you hear me?

daddy daddy, it's so good to see you
it's been forever since I last have
I'm sorry I ******* up daddy
hopefully you can forgive me
daddy, are you there?

daddy daddy, why did you re-marry?
who is this lady, she seems scary
did you even love mom, daddy?
was I just a mistake, daddy?
daddy, where are you?

daddy daddy, why do I have to live here?
I thought you wanted us to be happy
I thought you wanted what was best
I'm not happy
this wasn't the best
daddy, will you let us go?

daddy daddy, why do you insult me?
what did I do, daddy?
why don't you love me anymore?
did you ever even love me, daddy?
please tell your wife to stop
please tell yourself to stop
these words hurt, daddy
I'm starting to believe they're true
daddy, will you please stop?

daddy daddy, why did you look away?
you saw the scars that I created
aren't you happy?
isn't that what you wanted, daddy?
I'm sorry about the pills, daddy
but you made me feel so worthless,
I do what you always do with worthless things
I tried to throw myself out
daddy, are you even listening?

a.c.

There are moments where I wish I would have walked away.
I wish I could catch a flight back to the moment,
where I completely lost myself in the audience.
I wish I would've taken the road less traveled by,
and said no to plagiarized nights of emptiness.
I would've turned the corner with my chin up,
but I fell flat on my face and scraped my lips
that are now silent with fear and resistance.
And I could say that who I was
has made me who I am in this moment.
but I am not who I am just yet.
I am stuttering apologies, unsure of everything.
I am scared to look behind me,
from the fear that the shadows which are still sewn to my heels
are scheming and plotting to take me back.
But the drum of my pulse bangs on the walls of my bones,
to keep walking to who I will be.
so I put on my foundation every day,
to cover the trail of black eye liner that has dried up against my skin.
and I throw open my closets and climb under my bed,
making every monster see that i'm still here.
after every battle has been won,
I will rest in the aftermath of the flood
that carries me forward past the moments
that who I am today would dance
into the embracing arms of fulfillment.

How nice to be a balloon
floating on a young ones wrist
How I'd like to be a balloon.  

They float for some time, and then happily deflate
leaving there rubbery reminisce
For the young one to toy with
And stretch to it's limit
Or they might keep the balloon close
like some long lost friend

Unless, you're the sad balloon
who's string is dropped
and floats way up high
away from the happiness
away from the child
well
away from the tears of the young ones loss
who wishes only for the balloon
who's already lost.