I wish you would touch me

But not all at once
not aggressively
like you see sometimes in the movies
they go so quickly
that only seems uncomfortable
don't you agree?

I want to be touched subtly

I want you to stroke my hair
and call me dear
I want you to wrap your arms around me
tightly when I'm cold
I want you to move your fingers
in slow circles across my knee
I want you to draw on my back
to show that you're there
and to wrap my fingers in yours
as our arms gently press
and if you like
you could gently sweep your lips
against mine

A touch means so more
than how they portray it in movies
so touch me gently
please

You want your pickled herring
you want de jure
you want all the caesar
sections
gobbled up
pure
and shallow
waters
drip
from bellies
to replace salt
to preserve
the children's minds
you eat
while you
transport them
to the other side
of your soulless
empire
with no objective
existence
in reality.

In my darkest hour, by the rage of sun,
I met her in a shower of April days,
Riding to the moon in twined études,
The dry chrysalis of winter shells
Gave way to lightness, glaze,
The rain in our eyes, amaze,
Her voice as it fluted, broke,
Like feathers from a wandering bird,
Were my wings of iridescence and joy
And we were blind when we were born,
We were blind as bells of floating grace,
Lived forever by such a new shore,
Such ends of buzzing time,
As May flies.

There's a cute little bridge
that crosses a pond
on the other side of town

I don't know when it was made
but the wood is rotten and old
with green mold growing out of each crevice
and the rope barely holds
I feel like it could snap at my slightest touch

I sit on the bridge anyway
and I let my feet plunge in to the tepid water
they make little waves as I slowly twirl my toes
I don't think the fish like it
so I stop

One time I brought a book to the bridge
my friend had lent it to me
it was a love story
he knows they're my favourite
but I dropped it in the water
and it sunk to the bottom
it made me cry

I come to the bridge a lot
to look at the little fish that swim at the surface
I bring them bread
and I watch them take little nibbles
I bet that bread will last them a long time

It started getting cold so I brought my coat
to the bridge today
the water was still
and I looked over the rope
I could see the book
that I dropped last year
it made me think of my friend

I miss him

Well, let's see it like This.

He's tall, handsome, simple to understand,
and there's me,
yeah, me, the kid who
grew up alone so he learned about
       different species of mushrooms and
       how poetry has a meter
       (Not mine, not here, but somewhere, some does).

He can tell you how pretty you are,
while you stare at him, into those shallow souls of eyes.
He'll hurt you, right? Yeah, probably.

The human nature is to tend towards simplicity and ease,
and I'm not easy to understand or simple.
He is.
He's your "Normal" that all of your friends want.
He's your athletic-scholarly(Ha!)-goodboy-Christian kid,
and then there is me.
Your friends don't like me, and that burdens you.
Because I'm different and they are judgmental, but hey,
he's a good kid (not) and he's very smart (I'm still smarter)
but he will hurt you and scar you and I will
take the scars and heal them and use my
care as a fierce weapon against the night.