date me
bring me home to your mom and dad
let them talk about me when i go to the bathroom
nonchalantly tell your friends how you can't stop thinking about me
but make it seem like you aren't really shook by your feelings
write it down
write down how you feel
tell me how you feel
be honest with me
FALL FOR ME
make it hurt
let me in
bring me there
show your brother pictures of me to see if he approves
even though you don't really care if he does or doesn't
just ******* give me a real chance
come sleep in my bed and kiss my neck
and when i start to cry becaue i am emotionally overwhelmed
by how much i feel for you
just tell me you'll ******* stay

When the police came to get me
There was no force, but tons of crying.
If you've ever felt what I felt in that moment,
I hope that you had the sense
To put a bullet in your head.
Six kilometers East and another seven South
A baby no one loved was being born
And a young woman's innocence was being stolen
Through a paraphysical form of ****.
I stood shrieking on the corner,
Mouth agape.
And I got in my car that night
And I took nothing but right turns
All the way to the nowhere I was inching towards,
Trying to see if that myth about the world being flat
Was true.
I wanted only to see for myself
That driving a long enough distance from home
Would eventually drive me over the edge.

We sell condoms where I work,
****** arousal supplements,
and lotions.
And there's this twenty-year-old girl there
who controls all my emotions.

One look into her eyes;
two words that she says,
and suddenly I'm dying
right there inside my head.

Bury me six feet under.
This is more than I can stand.
I'm falling toward some dark abyss.
Pull me out of this quicksand.

(Maybe I should quit, or see a psychiatrist.)

I used to follow logic.
I used to be a reasonable man.
Now some twenty-year-old girl
holds my fate within her hands.

(She could **** me with the press of a button,
but she doesn't understand.)

Suicide crosses my mind too often.
Why should I die for this?
It's never bothered me before now.
I've never coveted a kiss.

I'm being ridiculous.
I just want it to be done.
I hate these ******* feelings.
I don't want to long for anyone.

(When the brain fights with the heart, it can tear a soul apart.)

There's this twenty-year-old girl at my job
who has recently found her sexuality,
and for reasons I can't fathom,
it will surely be the death of me.

Dark-eyed poet
in the long night
come and burn
your time with me
let's set our whole lives
on fire tonight
and breathe each other's
smoking dreams..

Then I have grown tired
Moved to fast
Could not catch you up
Moved with time

Sometimes too faster
Even faster than the time
Tired to do more
Couldn't Catch you up

Have known the try
Have understood the time
But yet haven't recognized you
Sang your Song
Realized
Got Robots
Even Got nuclear bombs
But couldn't understand you

Already Seek
Invented too many fundamental
Theories
Wondered
Wrote thousands of poems
Philosophies

Even moved through
Space to Space
Restless
Light to Dark
As the Bohemian

Couldn't  touch your heart
Couldn't reach at your home
Even try to move beyond
Still you have remained elusive

❅ ❅ ❅ ❅

I want days to be dark
I want to see no sun
I want to see no spark

I want every day the rain
to wash away the pain
for loving you in vain

I want the light to hide
I feel empty inside.
I say with no pride;

at least i tried

I was snorting the snow
I missed you being born
I was smoking the rock
And now your twelve
I slammed last night
Your moving out
I crashed
You married had kids
I woke up foggy
Where are you
I was supposed to be there
I want to tell you how proud I am
I wanted my fix more
Sad alone cold
Today was when I realized
It was to late

.
         Some hold it true that Erin's creamy skin
         Is clearly fairest in both grain and hue;
         And I have seen such porcelain skin as hin-
ted quite convincingly that this was true.
         Some hold it true the Aztec's nut-brown hide
         (Made with Quetzal's chocolate from long ago)
         Is fairest, and understandably deride
The purblind eyes of those who do not know.
         And others, still, prefer a different cast,—
         A different color, texture, shade, and tone.
         And most enjoy a rude debate on taste.
I argue not, but leave them all alone:
         I'd rather go and dream a blissful dream
         Of chocolate skin wet-kist with Irish cream.