I put my name out
And people suddenly know
or think they know
my secrets.
Reading my words
selumpkraneepshakor.
They know me.
You know me.
More.

Skimming the surface, but you know
it's the purpose
of our little exchange
Brief, exposed embrace.
Look around just in case
But you can steal something
of mine maybe no one else will see.
Someone might've seen.
There's a bug on my page.
Brush it off for me but
don't look too far over the pages
flicking with this wind.
Air trying to cover for me
so you don't see
what it is I've been writing
as you sit here beside me
distracting me with your
full silent gaze.
You surprise me in the way
you admire me. Can I say that?
Don't tell. Don't look.

I didn't think I'd be
writing poetry again
or for a while.
It's neat
how things come back in style
with the way to approach them.

I'll find what it is you
wanted me to write.
It's hiding I think
in this cold purple night
with the fog rolling in
like something
sick from within
finally coming out
Too trapped to get out
but now it's out
it's out it's out.
Cry for me I can't believe it's out.
Keep looking surprised for me.
It's out.

Feel I want to scream
and spin and die.
and stand on my head
and sigh.
and sigh.

So what did you want me writing again?
Something about or for
or having to do with you,
my little muse.
Go. eat some glue.

I read that he lost a suitcase full of manuscripts on a
train and that they never were recovered.
I can't match the agony of this
but the other night I wrote a 3-page poem
upon this computer
and through my lack of diligence and
practice
and by playing around with commands
on the menu
I somehow managed to erase the poem
forever.
believe me, such a thing is difficult to do
even for a novice
but I somehow managed to do
it.

now I don't think this 3-pager was immor-
tal
but there were some crazy wild lines,
now gone forever.
it bothers more than a touch, it's some-
thing like knocking over a good bottle of
wine.

and writing about it hardly makes a good
poem.
still, I thought somehow you'd like to
know?

if not, at least you've read this far
and there could be better work
down the line.

let's hope so, for your sake
and
mine.

sleep beckons me,

almost as much as the thought of you..

i love you (when you're)  rambling
i want to hear what you say after work
i want your face in my hands
i want you in my studio with a glass of wine
(telling me things)
i want
you.

How is it
that whenever I'm sure that you're the one
that you run in the opposite direction

How is it
that you always seem apologetic,
and I believe you,
but the actions never support the claim

How is it
that when I call on you to talk to me
for five minutes
you can't find the time

And yet you say you love me.

How is it
that I pour my heart and soul out
for you, and you understand me
but you break me afterwards

How is it
that I am so happy
when I am with you
and never want to leave
but the moment I go
reality comes crashing in
How is it
that every time I try to trust you
my face is the one
that ends up stained with tears

And yet I still love you.

How is it
that we keep coming 'round
to this same ****** circle
and don't get anywhere faster

How is it
that my heart beats only for you
and yet I feel
like I have been thrown
naked onto the street

And yet you say you love me

How is it
I can feel it in my very core
that what you say is true
and yet your actions
make it not so

How is it
that I progress and mature
and you have done nothing
but back peddle
in my absence

How is it
that I can take this
and still love you
more than my heart can bear

How is it
that I dote so heavily on you
and would end my life
to save yours
and still feel
the cold burn of inconsistency

I’m about to break a promise,

To one who's comforting words have made me cry,

One thing he might never understand,

Is why.