Dearest dear,
if you'll look closely enough, you will understand that last night was a comedy,

But...

very word, every thought, and every emotion come back to one core problem:life is meaningless.

But...

I begin to hear voices again, and I can't  seem to concentrate.

But...

Relax-it won't hurt.

But...

Loving you is really hard!

But..

Hey mom, I'm sorry if my blood stained your favorite carpet.

But..

I'm hanging out in the garage. Literally!

But.

P.S I'm really sorry

Every night,
If you'll look closely enough at the sky,
You could see the thousands of Iranian children silently,
Walking trough the minefield,
With plastic keys hanging from their necks
that were promised to bring them
to paradise,
When the mines will
**explode.

I** might not be the smartest
I might not be the prettiest
I might not  be the thinnest
I might not be the most talented
I might not be the sportiest
I might not be the most popular
I might not be the most stable
I might not be the strongest
I might not be the best at everything
I am not  prefect...
But somehow

That's okay.

-e.b

her wintery lips kiss
filled his heart with no bliss
warmth's touch remiss

I can not find Mae's recipe for Swedish rye bread;
I thought it was taped to the fridge next

to obituaries, and the phone number
of Joon’s Korean restaurant.  She knew

the bread recipe the way one knows the feel
of a lover’s back or a favorite character

of a cherished book.  I seldom think of her,
mostly when I am hungry or cold.  Today

I am both, and it is only September;
what will become of me by December?