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Shut the **** up.**
It's hard dating anyone,
and *a poet's no different.
Just saying.
They're everywhere these days
& nights,
I’ve seen them
in the coffee shops,
at the grocery, reading
down at library,
even hanging out on the pier with the rats.

They’re constantly watching,
waiting & moving
in and out
of the shadows,
in broad daylight,
dying,
fighting for you.

They are the new age bloodsuckers,
so beautiful, so handsome,
with their lily-white smiles
& million dollars tastes,
stealing your soul,
taking you down
to perdition.
(
                                     )
         (
                       )
                      \/
                       /\
                        /    \

                     ::::   :::::

Days are on fire

(  so many fires )

SHE'S LOOKIN FOR LOVE

//

Young boy is restless

The truth of reality

Cuttin him to pieces



HE WANTS TO KNOW JUST WHO SHE IS
JUST WHAT SHE WANTS

//     //

dance dance dance

Feel free to understand

Something or everything

====

Time carries us toward

All possibilities

//

Ain't no true praise to be hurt in false passion



They meet on the Subway

From the Bronx to Manhattan

||

Together

Wandering the world
I can barely stand
The nearness of you.

Your sleeping body shifts
And you capture me with slumbering arms.
The warm breath at the back of my neck
Melts the frozen parts of me,
But there is no use for a lukewarm heart.

Can't you see how your fingertips linger
Or how you scorch me with the warmth of your skin?
This closeness could be the end of me.

You, all of you,
Eyes like chocolate
And lips like strawberries,
I want it all.

And your touch
Is driving me mad.
I see them clasping each other's hand,
planted on a wooden bench,
head on shoulder,
and carving a smile at the winter clouds.

They hold each other's embrace in the chilly flurry of air,
their eyes shut,
seizing the moment,
and allowing their hearts to slowly, but surely entwine with one another.

I gaze at them, longing for what they have.
My heart sinks at my despair and companionless thoughts.

The only thing I can do now, is to keep scrolling.
My eyes fixed on the screen of my device,
my thumbs flicker from one side to another.
I keep myself distracted, vacantly staring at the pixels beneath the tip of my index finger.

Ultimately, the thoughts strike in its final wave.
Anxiety flushes over my sense of self,
and I realise.
That I.
I am.
the odd one out.

Disconsolate.
words are the only thing
that can fill the
hollowness that
resonates in my bones
I am a fire.
A son of Prometheus, perhaps.
I burn and eat and distill and
Warm and give life.

But there has been a wrong.

My smoke is black.
I suffocate and choke and blind and
hurt. Because what I am burning,
Is alive.

It's supple with the liquid of life.

The clear gold filled in leaves.
It's in her too, and my chemistry
Is off. This chemo, the kerosene.
In me, doused on her.

It burns her and hurts and I am no longer a fire.

I am afraid.
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