in grievous deity my cat
walks around
he walks around and around
with
electric tail and
push-button
eyes

he is
alive and
plush and
final as a plum tree

neither of us understands
cathedrals or
the man outside
watering his
lawn

if I were all the man
that he is
cat--
if there were men
like this
the world could
begin

he leaps up on the couch
and walks through
porticoes of my
admiration.

Have you ever woken up startled
In the middle of the night

                   With the thought that your muse has left you
                   And cruelly turned out the lights

Leaving you afraid that in the morning
You'll wake up with no more rhyme

                    More often than not
                    These thoughts enter my head

Although I have often heard
Somethings are better left unsaid

                    I believe these thoughts I have
                    Would be better off dead

And these words that I now speak
Are they my muse or mine

                    And if the lights were turned off
                    Would that be that big a crime

When my muse tries to venture out
I believe the next time

                    I'll grab a hold, tie her up
                   And be the one to feed her the lines

Thank you for breaking me
And making me
A better me

Thank you for hurting me
And making me
A stronger me

Thank you for shooting me
And making me
Bulletproof

Thank you for burning me
And making me
Fireproof

Not even the way
the moon glows
and lights up the
night sky
can compare
to the sound of your
enticing heartbeat
thump
      thump
            thump
against your
prisoned chest
as your head lay
etched into my neck.

Not even the feel
of raindrops against
my cheeks
compares to
the feel of your hands
as they press into
my very palms,
run down my body,
even as you hold
my face with gentle
care.

Not even the smell
of freshly cut wood,
or baked cookies
compares to the smell
of your strong cologne,
nestled in the tiny
particles of your shirt
and nestled in the skin
of your neck.

Not even the sight
of a beautiful sunset
on the beach
or a lovely rainbow
full of distracting colors
compares to the sight
of your golden eyes
on a hot summer day,
or even your handsomeness
that's constantly showing.

Nothing
   compares
       to
         you

*a.m.

I'm not writing
Poetry
I'm having ***
Same thing
Actually

I could have killed her
easily
for a long time I just watched her
as she sat there
she had crawled in there
not realising the danger
the trap

This way I was able
to observe
with equal amounts of disgust
and scientific fascination
she was my enemy
my conscience, my shame
and I knew that

at some point
she would have to die