That weekend they said
"on the East Coast,
Nemo finds you"
The snow brought standstill
to NJ
delivered her 12 inches
she gave us both a synopsis
like ****, gone wrong
But before she wrought self destruction
I was given you
to wake me up
if lying there with you would send me to hell
then take me to hell
via "please take me elsewhere"
and upstate,
to your uncle's infatuated dog.

The ******* D train
leads straight to all of my desires
and all of my pain
both ways.
Manhattan-bound;
to mundanity and work.
and Coney Island-bound
(hurricane turned tropical storm
ripped out everything inside and made it raw)
to you.
The ******* D train
I ride you to the point of heart attack.

I'll sit on trains,
home is behind me;
home is in front.
The place I sleep on weeknights
with working mornings looming
is the place I only survive.
But at weekends
I live for you,
I breathe with you,
and when I sleep
I dream with you
because home is with you
in those moments at least.
My own bed,
twice as big as yours,
the thought a luxury
on a 12am R train.
or cold N to R transfer platform,
but too much room is bad for the soul.
I'd rather have
the Monday morning bruises
and bed spring sized aches.

Packs of men
like hyenas
scavenging the bones
of a long lost cause
poor beautiful girls
hounded by the eyes and tongues
of men, for it's women on their minds.

BULLYING

I was sad
and he was mad
he did not care about me
so what do I do now?

He says I look like garbage
and I always wonder
"What do I have to do
on this earth?"

School is not cool
because of what he does to me

Now when will we be happy,
he never stops bullying me.
I want to be friends
but we don't have a chance.

We will never have a friendship
because he does not care about me.

We are World War Three
A sinking ship, is me
you are the captain
of the ship that made me sink.

He is my nightmare
where did my dreams go?
My friends have disappeared,
I'm in a little box.

I know what to do now,
I have some friends to help me through,
the BULLY will be STOPPED at once,
I will tell him what I feel.

I want to be FRIENDS not ENEMIES.

We met awkwardly on the stairs
his apartment one flight up
door open, tv on
a world left firmly behind
Brooke, never one for only decoration
stood calmly, eyes fixed coldly
"he was hotter in the photo"
well loved hands, ones I'd known
passed over the reason for my revisit
well worn book
reopened my mind then to Kerouac's mind
and now to mine, frozen,
my planned wit, biting, left outside.

The best way to describe my kids
is
if there's an electric keyboard
at the bottom of the basement stairs
there's a 100% chance it was thrown from the top.