Mamie beat her head against the bars of a little Indiana
     town and dreamed of romance and big things off
     somewhere the way the railroad trains all ran.
She could see the smoke of the engines get lost down
     where the streaks of steel flashed in the sun and
     when the newspapers came in on the morning mail
     she knew there was a big Chicago far off, where all
     the trains ran.
She got tired of the barber shop boys and the post office
     chatter and the church gossip and the old pieces the
     band played on the Fourth of July and Decoration Day
And sobbed at her fate and beat her head against the
     bars and was going to **** herself
When the thought came to her that if she was going to
     die she might as well die struggling for a clutch of
     romance among the streets of Chicago.
She has a job now at six dollars a week in the basement
     of the Boston Store
And even now she beats her head against the bars in the
     same old way and wonders if there is a bigger place
     the railroads run to from Chicago where maybe
     there is

               romance
               and big things
               and real dreams
               that never go smash.

the cool of the winter
does nothing to keep us from panting
and sweating,
our bodies tangled in heated kisses.
the chill of his hands
and the warmth of my hips do not divide,
they multiply and i'm sure that if the sun
and the moon could come together
to make one noise,
it would sound like his voice.
you'd think the stars in the sky
would be brighter than his smile
but even sirius can't outshine him.
his eyes are filled
with planets
that have not yet been discovered
and stars that shine
ten times brighter than the sun;
his body is a galaxy
that i'm not scared to get lost in.

The first taste of Fall , with a slight nip in the air , reminds me of a five year old in his Astronaut gear ! Football helmet , pliers and hammer from Dads tool case ! Yellow raincoat and cowboy boots , outside the Eagle on Tranquility Base , Neil Armstrong  exploring the creek beside the Mothership ...Home ..Crawdad matches , tadpoles , mud puppies , mantids , a few June Bugs with kite string tied to one leg ..Aggies , Immies , shooters and swirls , GI Joes , jack stones and wood gliders ....

Dear you.
I will not give your name any power
by repeating it.
You are just you
and nothing more.
I honestly feel bad for you,
you must be suffering
to steal a girl's innocence
for your own sick pleasure.
Dear you,
I will overcome you.

I blame it on the easy things,
my parents,
past relationships,
black holes.
But it's always been me
that's been in
control.
Deciding to stop
when they told me to go.
Screaming out "yes"
as I was choking down "no."
Pressing the pedal
when I should've gone slow.
My actions and my words
never quite match up.
Saying I'm healthy
as smoke fills my lungs.
Calling myself an atheist
but telling it to God.
Sitting here wondering,
When will I stop?
I can blame it on the easy things,
stimulants,
a chemical imbalance,
the doctors white coat.
But it's always been me
that's been in
control.

From the slums of mexico city
To the avenue of Hollywood,
Around the bin of saks fifth avenue.
To the know it all's, and all be goods.
In the hoods, where ghetto girls are sweet
Some are called hood bunnies
Junkies are the daily keeps.
I sleep sweet now I got out of
Mexico city's way of life.
The ghetto one
The slum one
The hood one
Not saks fifth avenue.
The hood,
Gangster avenue.

Suddenly I could taste her breath in the air, almost as if I had just kissed her.
But I hadn't, I was alone in my bed.

I'm haunted, by some sort of phantom pain.