I see people writing poem after poem on here,
and i wonder,
did you write them all by candlelight, and save them up for when you found your audience?
Or did you sit and get drunk and write them whilst smoking cigarettes, and crying,
all over the keyboard.
Or was it a carefully, logically, formatted feeling that you had to edit, to, get, it just, right?
Aaahaaa...
I wonder if you know what you are saying.
If you know that your infinitesimal pieces of work, are akin to a 16yr old's journal from circa 1984?
That if you could read it from this angle, or that angle, it could mean one or two things, and i am sure that you meant neither of them.
And i am thinking, that if i could i would throw away the internet and its black hole, that we all get ****** into,
I would give you one gold plated pen with black writing ink,
and a limited supply of scrolls of parchment made by sunlight and cotton;
because i wonder whether you would be so flippant with your words,
your feelings,
your punches,
your understanding,
your emotions,
your reflection,
your heart.
Because this makes us quicker, faster, harder, stronger.;
holding out for a white page to fill with words,
for lightening bolts of appreciation.
Is this not the cycle you wish to escape my love?
Was this not what you wanted?
Did you not want him to walk away?
Did you not want her to cheat?
Did you want them to fight, see you more clearly, understand you better, expect a little bit more respect, demand a little bit more attention, more patience, loving acceptance, a mutual respect?
What are you doing with these words, that you throw down like a gauntlet?!
Like you throw down venomous poison that you are trying to rid from your body, out from your curs-ed mouth, through your fingers, on to a keyboard, and out in to a a-nomy-nous world.
I wonder if you think of these things as you listen to love songs, driving in the rain, in the dark, suffocating on tears?
Do they fester in your head all day as you serve self-righteous morons who have no idea of your tortuous pain?
Do you lightly tread, whilst someone is sleeping in your bed, to the keyboard and type out how much you love them, and how much you are in love, alone, to the monitor, to nameless faces.
Do you have a soap box? Have you hammered on the desk in the rising light of your passion and dignity, and justice for all, in the name of love?
Have you wrote a letter lately?
When was the last time you held a pen for more than a few seconds?
When was the last time you cried into the ink, sprayed it with perfume, or S.I.W.A.L.K?
Or told someone you loved them with a million reasons why, with your own voice, into their eyes, to their face?

I just wonder, how much these words are worth, if we don't say them,
out loud.

Friday mornings I'd slip
the little bones of me
into the big skin of you;
the bags under the arms
spaces to fill. My head
dives under the seams,

finding encrusted sea-salt
swept into nicked threads,
fresh surf cast in nostrils
like delving into wafting
depths of a second-home,
painting the skin rough.

I'll pretend I have your eye,
search for fish in the dark
as you do when away,
and I'll explore with hands
as shimmers fade between
soft holes in cotton waves

small fingertips touching
gasps. They slick the sky
like breaths in the night,
their smear of scent
a welcomed reminder
until you come home.

Salty water from the ocean's lips
kissing upon fresh raw skin
wetter than the shine of your eyes
when i knew you were holding back.
And i will sit upon the dunes
where we once sat
and write to you letters of love
soon to be lost in the wind.
Up on the cliff face
where five of us gathered,
slightly out of mind,
and soaked up the scenery.
We sat and stared
Juicing all before us,
Squeezing out all we could
Attempting to hold the moment forever.
But every moment ends,
as all else,
And eventually,
as the sun lowered his gaze,
we had to turn to leave.

You left what seems like a forever ago,
leaving only vague memories,
juiced and bottled
and stacked neatly in the pantry.

Her love proved insufficient,
or , worse, illusory.
So you struggle bravely on alone
towards your Calvary.

Remember One who, too ,faced death
abandoned by his friends.
He, too, felt forsaken,
and cried out at the end.

We prisoners all face one fate.
It is our common link.
We all will share this cup of pain
that you are forced to drink.

Yet In this charnel house of Earth
another lies alone.
One, like you, that a
lack of Love has struck a fatal blow.

An evil illness stalks your days
but Love lives in your heart.
bring Love to an unloved one,
and you will have played your part.

-What would it be like
        to feel the warmth
      of your bare chest
   next to my
     crooked spine
just before
          the early sunrise
            
             And against the mid-morning sky
                  Whether'd be light or cloudy
                            You'd sing to me

                    Harmonize sweet lullabies
                      We'd create masterpieces;
                                                          Sympho­nies-

                                      But for now I have something
                                                                ­  I cannot deny
yes
                                                          ­I have let heavens
                                                                ­Treat me fables
                                                 Instead of serving wine

Today I walk the dim streets,
On this bitter November night
For the home I gave hope in
For all these years
                                                  Was never truly mine
So I close my eyes and set my aching body down
On the corner of Bay & Queens
I dreamt of, now I envision
The comfort of your thin sheets,
-and it is so characteristically silly of you to think
that I care about their prestige.

                                      For they remind me of what I
                                                 Treasure in the deepest
                                                     Recesses of my being
                                                                ­         Open sea
                                                             ­        Bluest skies
                                    & white sand beneath my feet.
For all you are,
All you offer
And all you invite me to see  
Is my untouchable childhood paradise
             But wrapped such a frigid night as tonight,
Treasure so precious
Is hard to conceive.
  
        You probably wonder from time to time
       Where this obsession with the water came
                      But for years I hummed,
             I screamed at the top of my lungs;
                                  And I sang

                                Follow me
      to the sea, where I first called your name
But, alas
again the next line of my own hymn, is a lie
            
             For I called and you haven't came


   But I know you know where to find Neptune's
                                                       ­              daughter
She rests her head within the  w a v e s
And lets the various tides
Take the strands of her fragile mind
  away
   away
    *away

How many years will I be stuck
With this feeling like you're the only one
I'm left with pictures and memories
And you've left for school
And while you'll have a future
I'll wish my future was you
                 I brushed it off as being a kid
                 Love is infatuation instead
I'd like to think I know better now
Like feelings are real if you think they are
Almost like nobody can fill the void
I'm too young but too tired to try
I always have that phone in my hand
I could call you if I had the nerve again
                 But I've lost the idea that I had
                 I know that I don't stand a chance
I can't find out how to move on
And the more I try, I feel worse
But holding on feels so pathetic
Childish, immature and destructive
Something pulls at me inside
The longer I wait to fight this off
                 It's almost like I want this
                 You fill a void without taking part
How many years could I be stuck
With this feeling like you're the only one
Because it feels better to think that I've found you
Than having to continue to look
This attachment bears so many issues
Yet, it somehow just makes me whole

your eyelashes flutter
against my curved spine
quietly, like snowflakes

And
I feel like an onion. Layer after layer all
gone with nothing to say,
nothing but skin.

They're kissing and holding hands and
I think I'm going to be sick.

and,
I've come to realize that almost every poem
carries a cigarette, and that I'm burning away.

and,
I've spent years dying to die
aching for you to return my calls.

and,
I've spent $5 a week,
replacing your breathes
and promised pain.

They're whispering and telling each other how much they are in love and
he holds her close.

and,
now all I have is the hope that this rain will wash away our memories.