Like drinking water out of mason jars
Like reading through fake plastic glass
Like dressing in your grandparents bolts of fabric
Like holding an unfiltered cigarette
Or even better a wooden pipe…
Smoke swelling in closed mouths
And nostrils blowing in sailboat clouds
Down to the next not- Starbucks
To sit on a velvet couch with
Coral painted nails and a chai in hand...
You all can be like this.
With no workout clothes and
With at least two piercings in your nose
You all are like this soon enough.
Who gave you the idea to pick up the
Ukulele anyway?
Who gave you the idea to shave one quarter
Of your head?

We all did. We all are a
Fleet of individual sameness,
A want to stand out from the
Cookie- cutter looks,
But now we’re all cupcakes
With the same story but with
Different hooks
For hands, snagging the rest
Of us along.
With your identical twin lipstick
And Birkenstock feet.
The lack of shock we absorb
Gets lonely and depressing.
So lets all move to Montreal
And French kiss and knit
And maybe real soon the
Croissants will go stale
And it’ll be cool to live
In Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan.

Betrayal
in her eyes
as truth settles in
to watch the show.
I try for calm,
but poison butterflies
grow claws
and rip my words
to shreds.
I parry with Honesty,
taking hits so sudden
my breath has no choice but to retreat,
wondering why Justice played
her Champion
so late.
I couldn't see
what I had destroyed at the time.
Or perhaps
I wouldn't look
Consequence in the eye.
Now
Here it all is.
It stares me down.
I can't watch
the emotions dance
through her mind.
Defeat is imminent
so I accept
the fate of my secrets
because finally
I can see
**what I've done.

I am a dead man
Not physically, for my heart still beats
And air fills my lungs
And my mind wanders
But spiritually
After seeing my innocence slaughtered
My trust in humanity shattered
And that unshakable belief that everything would be okay
Shaken
Murdered by a cold cruel world
Where men need a bottle just go get by
Because facing reality is too much to bear
And a woman sits crying
Because her husband is never home
And she has to raise the kids all on her own
Kids who, with the right guidance, would be amazing
But one parent isn't enough
So the children waste away into nothing
Fading away into the monotony
Of existence
Just as I have done

Across the room you sit
Absorbed in thought
Biting your lower lip
While you contemplate
Lord knows what
But I wish it was me

Shyly, I stare at you
My bangs hiding my eyes
Praying you don't notice me
But wanting nothing more than to attract your attention
And perhaps I could draw a smile
From your thin red lips

You're beautiful
Not in the flashy, mini skirt kind of way
But in that subtle, wink across a crowded room style
Flying under the radar, until noticed
When you steal the show
And capture my attentions like nothing else can

I do not know why a girl like you
Would give someone like me a chance
So I sit here dreaming, hoping, longing
For the day when I get the courage to walk over and ask
If you'd spend some time with me
And pray you say yes

Rock-a-Bye-baby, in the tree top
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
They left you hanging there,
Safe, they thought.
The sun-seasoned breeze rocked you
Too-and-fro, too-and-fro.

And who could say that you were any less than innocent?
Twenty fruits in six sturdy trees,
If any one of them falls
Does it make
A sound?

It ripples whole oceans,
Storms blown all over America by the Big Bad Wolf,
We thought his breath
Could do little more than rustle the leaves.

Little did we know he would blow
Not-yet-ripe fruits to the ground.
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall
Down will come baby, cradle and all.

When one is in desperate need of sleep
With their minds churning out thoughts of upmost irrelevance
She is told, to simply count the sheep

If only the Sandman would possess such benevolence
I want only to collapse into a dreary heap
When one is desperate need of sleep

She is told, to simply count the sheep
In the waking hour of dawn, weary from Sandman's malevolence
Inexplicable panic begins to seep

With their minds churning out thoughts of upmost irrelevance
Sunshine caresses the houses steep
If only the Sandman would possess such benevolence

The neighborhood yawns, the birds begin to cheep
Night refuses an acquiescence
When one is in desperate need of sleep

I wish for once, Night and I will come to a complacence
Languid to the point where I will weep
She is told, to simply count the sheep

One wants a gloaming of reposing divulgence
With their minds churning out thoughts of upmost irrelevance
When one is in desperate need of sleep
She is told, to simply count the sheep.

I want to feel your silky hair tangled in my fingers when we kiss.
I want to feel the weight of your head resting on my shoulder when I hug you, or, even better, when you hug me.
I want to feel your nose barely brushing mine, because we’re standing close so that our faces don’t quite meet, but our breath has become synced.
I want to feel your warm lips dancing with my own, or gently touching my forehead right before we say goodnight.
I want to feel your arms holding me tight against you, in a way that makes me feel, for once, that I’m not alone in this cruel world.
I want to feel your hand, locked in mine and squeezing gently to remind me that you’re still there.
I want to feel your feathery fingertips, placing my hair behind my ear, or softly rubbing my arm when I feel anxious.
I want to feel your shoulders supporting me when we’re watching movies and I’m too tired to keep my head up.
I want to feel your stomach and your hips touching my own when we make love, or when we just stand in each other’s embrace for hours.
I want to feel your chest beneath me, slowly moving up and down as you dream, when I’m restless and using you as my pillow.
I want to feel your legs barely touching me as you move in your sleep, and your feet getting tangled up with mine when we lie side by side in bed at night.
I want to feel all of you, anywhere in the world, anytime of day or night.
I want you.