someone told me you have become very thin again
they say your eyes have grown dark
and they find you in homeless caves
starving out your painted adventures with hopeless
remedies of your small id

your human has grown petite and you relate to things
that have no tongues
to things that do not speak
twisted dreams flutter above your head like numb
blue bats

your extended bones and your heartless sensibility
you drag yourself as if you were a corpse
imitating life, or trying to at least

there are no tricks no doomed songs
no childhood memories or sing alongs
dissatisfaction creeps like a permanent cloud
coming and going like nature in its ultimate height above you

it makes you churn like heavy mechanical machines that make
horrid noises at midnight when you are trying to sleep
when you ask yourself
am I really happy

she wanted to find something that made her passion hang
like a human from a tree somewhere in the late thirties
a silent hand pressed against her sponge mind
making her leak her tongue all over the ill surface

years have passed like a seamless tomb
with eyes that scream please, hold me here for more than just two minutes
I am bored with the 1 hour love meetings and the detours
that lead me to the lions cage
the forbidden conversations and the numbed movements
stone tongues of gargoyles limping on the edge of
Gothic cathedrals in Prague

an animal somewhere in the wild dies slowly
a snake gives its venom to prey

and then you stood timid at the bottom of the mountain
as I struggled to make my way down
I thought of how my mother would be proud
to see me in a wedding dress, letting go of the only daughter she was able to drench out
of her body

surrender I thought never come in the form of bliss
till I realized I would hold out against all odds with no mercy
I'm not going anywhere
I stand right here in the corner
with my poetry spiraling down my thighs
in hopeless patterns

I, through a wasted experience swim in the stick figures of your genitals
and quite frankly, I don't know why I never ****** you
we stained the city shores and the art district
my footprints left behind a tar
I think of you now and miss you hauntingly
the way a soul misses the bed it died on

my eyes read , happy valentine
I don't know why you still contact me
I don't deserve it

days filled with adventure and feet that never stopped
tongues that never halted
hands that kept the beat going
and lips that ceased to be separated

off with his head
my mind cried loud in the nights
and the battle within me began
the tormented tug of mind and the thing that beat in chests

I cant remember the last time I felt guilt
for giving into my lonely ways
until for a minute I thought of you the other day
and the needles starting inflicting their stabs on my
wounds

I miss you.

you shed your androgyny in front of me
like the leaking of a dead poets mouth
prized convinction your are the killer of these things
bitten by your sharp nails
our souls blood is splattered on the wall
like a child's mess

we held hands and ran through the streets of wynwood
both nervous at the thought of people watching the passion
strangers who like to be alone
woven together in a harmonious mesh

we came across faces
and stood in that one corner and looked at that murial
on the cement wall
screaming out its makers message
in a thousand different emotions that linked to our past

I would tug your curls and they would bounce
you watched me smoke my cigarette
put on your artist eyes and pictured a painting in your head
using my ghost skin for your next piece

you drank my skin like milk hungrily
and I felt when my insides dripped down the
corners of your mouth
I throw my hands up in the air
and ask what can break me more than this

I sat in your kitchen in all black
and watched you cook me that fish, a recipe you probably
called your mother to ask for
you opened a bottle of white wine
we carried our glasses and sat outside
while I lit a smoke
your yard seemed like it was a haven for
bohemian children trying to escape South Florida's
cement buildings

you put your arm around me
and I nestled my head into your chest
at that moment I told myself here is the line
standing in front of me thick and red
shouting its warnings like old tapes of Hitlers speeches
preparing his soldiers to **** innocent children
and there it was standing like every sensitive poem I have ever read
like every painting that had a heart beat
like every smile my mother has ever shed

that red streak was not a finish line
but the beginning of something that would have turned into happy
years perhaps or just many painful nights, where I find it hard to breathe
and I thought to myself I can fall in love right now
I layed there listening to your heart beat
you kissed my forehead

I raised my head to look into your eyes
and before  I brought myself to make a decision
before I started feel my heart loose
I was already walking away to the place I have known the most

I pair my hands side by side
the servant that I am
I am nothing but that
and I give thanks in the most kind ways
that I did not brake the way I thought I would
after your stigmatic body passed through mine

your poise was perfect
and you walk with your hands trailing behind your back
pointer finger slightly extended
the orchid swan
holding in her tongue
holding in the poison

no architect could have built our castle
ancient ruins falling atop each other like
the moon falls into my scorned eyes in the midnight
when I sit with myself
when the ache hits the center of my black lungs
when the melancholy sighs to me
as if her pain is greater
when I know  that the true haunted king
sleeps in my stomach
arising and coming out of my throat
every so often

while I am sitting on the bench
while I am leaning on the wall inhaling those gray fumes
while I am reading my book
that is when that king comes to me
and wraps me in his hopeless melodies
of the days where we shared the same lips

and all I can do is give thanks
that I did not brake the way I thought I would
that the wound though alive
and breathing with its open sore of reds and pinks
pearls and hatred
did not slit me in half from head to toe

I know with my skin that you take pride in my pain
somewhere in your days you sulk in the compassion
that I hurt for you
it makes you feel wonderful and special
it makes you feel unique and beautiful

that me, who has had love conveyed to me in a thousand tongues
sits here alone like a cement column numb and baring nothing
receiving nothing, maybe simply existing
if that

you tread your eyes upon these poems
knowing in your darkest place that they belong to you
knowing in your darkest corners that you tore me
knowing in that part of your soul that stood naked in front of me
and how that part hid and wore a cloak of white
as to distract me from those short comings where you left me
with a welted heart here on my pillow
gasping for air
that would rather choke than be held by you again

the strangulation hummed like a crow
singing its sorrow into the womb of the night
claws wrapped on a thorned branch
disregarding of the pain
for its body has been numbed by its own pain
the noose lowers its insanity into my hands
like a tune humming its own thoughtless melodies
drenching like a dead animal
its ghost stories makes its ways like
lines of anarchy upon my pale skin
glorify the muse of forsaken life
built on the backs of dentured servants
crystallized in a putrid form
I am not here anymore
my skin tears open
and I smile as a drop of blood
falls like a sharp needle from the corner of my mouth
my insides are on the floor
staring at me with children's eyes
crying out  bitter shrieks
I am glorifying all the things that are dead within me
and I have forgotten all the beautiful music that I once knew