my hair's getting long, love
about as long as you would have liked
long enough to pull and squeeze
when we shared our kaleidoscopic bliss at night

people i haven't seen in a while
all have something to say
"hey man, i didn't know that was you!" they joked
last night as i set up my gear on stage

i'm glad you asked me to grow it, my fallen love
it's getting to the perfect length;
long enough to make me invisible
but long enough to give me strength

you see i always wanted to be a ninja
wear the ponytail of a samurai
i always thought it would just be cool
but last night i discovered why:

so i can be invisible to your love, my dear
like a ninja in the night
my hair will guide me right past you
without getting caught in the light

i'll slip right through your fingers
as my hair would slip through yours
using every new millimeter of every follicle
to remind me how long I can be strong for

the next time i see you, sweet dream
you won't even recognize me, i pray
i can only hope my heart won't be made of stone,

and just maybe

you'll be in the mood to talk to strangers that day

We all want to be immortal
and want to be remembered
but what people
fail to understand is that
if you do become famous
and if you do become
known around the world
you are hurting this world
and you are scarring it

the only way to be remembered
is unfortunately by scarring the world
and scarring hurts the world
so in the end
people who want to be remembered
are finding it necessary to harm the world
to be remembered and that is not
remembering a dead person
that's remembering their
deeds, which were wrong
and which hurt the world.

have i found you?
have i finally found love?
after a long time of nothingness
is this it?

a person
who actually sees the true me?
a person who gives me butterflies,
when I talk to them
someone I can take to the Netherlands with me?
Or just talk about the most random things
and it would still be okay

Have I found thee?
Or am I hallucinating?
I feel like I found you
A magnificent person
An indescribable human being
With great intelligence
Who enjoys being themselves
And doesn't mind talking to a lame kid
I think you are it
I feel like I found someone
To obsess over

First there is the prep.
The roommate.
Wearing salmon colored pants.  
He has Shaggy from ****** Doo
On his left thigh.
The alcoholic.
She has a drinking problem.
She is in denial of her drinking problem.
She hangs out with the loners.
The loners.
Unkempt, unattractive and fat in all the wrong places.
The blond looks like Tom Petty.
The one with dark hair, glasses and braces
They live next door.
Living together but segregated. 
Wild cards.
All of us.

©Gambit '13

She turned her mind toward thoughts of God
and pondered on this thing called 'Love'
and how it felt was rather odd
to have the thing you're dreaming of.

and not to say that much had changed
from all of what she'd felt before
but just her movement towards the thing
that gently rapped upon her door

and opening, the air was clean
and drifted into darkened mess
and brought with it the scent of spring
and promise that would lead to rest

the angry pride from early age
and pain she'd buried in the deep
once heated into molten rage
had turned to steel in her sleep

and stirring up the settled dust
the softest breeze swirled room to room,
the filtered light fell on the crust
the window sill, the broken loom

the cool fresh air, she breathed it in
which fanned the flames of hope again
but woke the sleeping child within
the bitter pill, the urge to sin

where were you when love was lost
and dreams were killed and hope was tossed
and where were you when I was nine
and lost my way and... one last time

I need to know where Love was when
the waves rushed in, and buildings fell
when kids were shot and parents grieved
and everything had gone to hell.

She could have slammed the door right then
He would have left, that's just His way,
she had to have it out with Him
and screamed and cried, but let Him stay.

I just don't get your kind of sense
which lets a man do what he will
to take away the innocence
to mock your name, and steal and ****.

And then the air stirred in her face
and quiet came to sandy shoal
he spoke of Love's abiding grace
and water flowed into her soul

For what is better for your strife
and what is Love, to pull the reign
to force a man to choose the life
or nudge a man to use his brain?

And what is love to steal the bride
and drag her right outside the gait?
I set you free, you run inside
I chose you then, you chose to wait.

I hear you well, I understand
the breath you breathe, this rotting tomb
I died for you and every man
to give to you back your breathing room.

I refuse to hear
everything bad they tell about you
Yes, what they say is bad
It's unethical of them to do so
They don't even know you
They don't talk to you often.
Yet. They dare to speak evil of you
How mean indeed.

I never did like them
and talking like that of someone..

It is no doubt now
No wonder. Anything I do
or the people I like do
It turns evil.
Its just a matter of *time

I have a tendency to give up.
Not because I don't care, it's just because I don't care enough.
So when I sit some 10 rows back, curtains open, fade to black,
and I see your gams creep from stage left like that,
there's a symphony that runs through me when I see the spotlight.
Something like, with hypnotizing might, you take me elsewhere as I gaze at your sight.
The power you have over me, and you don't even knows it.
Makes me grin that I'm safe for now hiding this secret but truth is, I want to expose it.

Keep dancing. That's all I think when I think of you.
Two powerful words that describe the truth and how to get it through.
Life is as you take it. And your constant flash of whites reminds me to never forget:
'There are two sides to everything", but I haven't seen the greener grass yet.
And it's probably on your side of that picket fence.
Devil smirk, woman's worth, with a child innocence.
Of course, I mean, I trip over the right words to dish out,
Haven't been too fond of broads lately and you're one of which I can't miss out.
See, you're that I'mgoingtoregretnottryingharder type of dame,
oozing with beauty like you can't keep it contained.
But if that were radioactive waste, I'd still want a taste.
Let me bathe in that divine cesspool and show you how to drown,
I don't mean it literally, I just mean I'll hold you down.
Don't feed me sympathy, simply tell me don't come around,
And I'll pack my thoughts within poems that are internet-bound.

She makes herself present when you need her most,
not to boast, but this tasty delight will treat you well as she continues to host.
She doesn’t give herself away too much,
****, if it was up to me I’d cop more than a touch;
A squeeze, a whole late night session, to indulge in her taste of imperfections,
Eat her up til I obtain a dental infection.
Not my intention, but her silhouette alone breeds thoughts of sin,
what I would give, to have her all to myself, wouldn’t know where to begin.
Undress her slowly as she teases me,
And repeatedly, she teaches me to treat her with care and show some decency.
But I can’t concentrate, she has my mind in a figure-four,
I'm a carnivore, but she exposes her flesh and I want more and more.
Its all been done before, but in this moment I’m in bliss,
I reminisce, as I write this, and continue to lick her residue off my lips.
She brings so much variety, all of them eyeing me,
Which will I give into as I inspect each of them quietly.

Sometimes she comes bittersweet, sometimes she’s a freak,
But most of the time she’s in a bad mood cuz I just wana beat, or rather eat.
Our relationship is never bland, she always keeps it fresh and new,
If it gets monotonous she won’t even hesitate to bring a friend or two.
She keeps my hands full, and that’s no easy achievement,
But she brings so much to the table its hard to not fiend it.
My favorite color on her, has to be green, not to be obscene,
But I’d tear her up as if though she was in a different team, knowwhatimean?
And after that delight there wouldn’t be much of her left,
Not to be greedy but Im not sharing until I know there’s more to come next.
If not, I’m vexed, I mean, I’m not addicted but I wouldn’t mind another round,
That’s not being spoiled I just want to know what other delights could be found.
Don’t be selfish and sadden me,
give me a taste so I can eat you up casually.
Oh miss candy, you’re just too fancy,
let me get a grip and I’ll put you on the walls like Bansky.

i don't write in a journal anymore.
you are my journal.
i speak my thoughts aloud to you,
like a confession.

i tell you all my sad thoughts,
my dying wishes,
my hopes,
and my dreams.
you don't speak in return.
you just hold my hand quietly next to me.

silently we sit in my sins,
pooling to the ground like blood from an open wound.