The air in this room is






                                     heavy.

It's hard to think with you here
It's   to     with     here

Skies have been cloudy for days
Great mothballs threatening liquid
Vengeance, and all the weathermen predicted
Rain. I for one anticipated a second
Flood, torrents of water so as to wash
Everything down the drain
And why not?

That would be horrifying and
Exciting in most respects
But the rain refuses to be
Dislodged from its clouds, looming
Above a waiting world to firmly assert that
It will not visit, not until the grass is a bit greener and
The flowers show their true colors

But the brittle brown grass cries out for water and the
Cracked gray flowers weep with despair
Because, of course
Water is vital, and
Everyone needs a rainbow

Cobwebs in the corners of happiness
Absorbing my attention
Clustered droplets cling to these cheeks
Fill them with joy anew
Overdosed with sadness
Like bleeding the ink from water
We are inseparable
I am a bucket
Merely catching my own teardrops.

Picture perfect memories
Whispy sweet monologues
The ounce I have left of you
In jars they were sealed
Suffocating for remembrance
You are still there, an echo
Only an echo
Like free spirits they now run
Seeping into every thought bubble
These precious jewels
An angelic mask of destruction
Erase them from my mind
Take them away
They are too heavy in my hands.

Full-time job
As a part-time lover
A fool fueled
By the feuds
That burns like the passion
Of a manic mad man
That manages to unmask
Conspiracies
Of secrecy
All the while
Spiraling
In delusion
Self-persecution
Trading sanity
For a truth
With no proof
Spewing his views
Over youtube
While you tune in
To a frequency
That frequently
Misses the point

The bigger picture
Is hard to see
When nit-pickers
Like I
Scrutinize the details
Then tell whats missing
With the audacity
Of a man with the capacity
To think critically
I mimic cynic critics
Then complain
When my views
Are challenged
Im challenged
Mentally
My retardation
Will eventually
Get the best of me
Hopefully
Before the worst of me
Becomes
The norm

This poem
Seems scatterbrained
Because my metaphors
Rarely connect
In the way
The reader
Is supposed to incept
I'd accept my defeat
In my attempt
TO prove my point
Except
I hate showing
What you'd expect

So as our     dwindles
To the sound
Of my favorite instrumental
As I write about
Myself
Hopefully
You'll see the bigger picture
Unlike me

... I just realized
I forgot to put love
Before the word dwindle
In the last stanza
And ****** up this constantly
Rhyming poem
To point out
The small details

And as a final
Desperate attempt
To redeem myself
I'll selfishly
Forget you again
And end
On a note
As a notice
That reconnects my first thought
Of how
Unbalanced my time is devoted

you had birds in your mouth and sunlight dripping from your eyelashes.
i promised i wouldn't speak if you wouldn't change faces twice an hour.
we made conversation under a tree and sleep-walked through your kitchen.
i couldn't stare for your poetry disguised as fingers, always moved your hands.

i opened your window and slid to the street, took a walk with the recycling.
my hands looked tired the next morning, and you wouldn't take no.
when the lights fell asleep, we ran for the boats and slipped into the water.
the moon smiled and pulled us apart, i never matched your shoes again.

I'm about to get so drunk!
Because of you
So if I do
The unexpected
It's all
Because of you
You unexpectedly
Caught me o
Off guard
I had to reinforce
My force field
And strategically
Maneuver
Around your
Gravity
You have a pull
That slowly brings
The earth
Closer to the sun
Before I burn
I'll learn
As many lessons
As I can
Before I make my final turn
For the worse
Revolutions
With no apparent
Resolution
My parents warned me
About
Women like you
Watch
But never subdue
My subconscious hold
On you
Is due
To the fact
That you
Are the only
Woman
I ever
Truly knew
Know knowing
Is bringing me
Closer
To No-ing
Every question you ask
And because of it
I can pass
On Love
All because of
The likes of You

Hallucinogenic eugenics
False beauty
Portrayed poorly
Because its unreal
Yet
The feelings pursue me
Persecution
Prosecution
Against this prostitution of emotions
I sell myself cheap
$15.00
Is the price for my soul
Sold
To the mass
Extinction of reality
Whose to say this bouquet
Of roses
Cant arise before
My death
I decorate
The interior
To design a mind
That’s perfected
In the opinions
Of those who know
No better
Drama setter
Setting the décor
For the setting
Letting the encore
Bring life
In the form
Of more roses
Atrocious Notoriety
From unwanted fame
Or
A poor poet
Starving artist
Projected as a failure
In this motion picture
Called life