Tell me what will happen
If I  stop loving you,
Not anymore,
If your smile is gone
If the stars of your eyes stop lighting up the world (my world)
Tell me what will happen
If I froget the tune of your voice
If my heart never beats for you,
...
Nothing will stay..
Only the heartache
The pain
You will no longer remember me;
But trust me
Years and years later 'if' I saw you I will still feel the pain and my heart will revive again.

Sitting in the dark
All alone
Wondering who else is home

Oh how you wish to roam
Those city streets tonight
Just hanging out and picking fights

But all your friends are out with lovers
Hitting the scene with style
You don't bother finding others
You know they'll come back in a while

Being left behind never hurt so much
Never before wished I was in love

I wish my love is your first breath
   of crisp, fresh air;
the first glimmer of sunlight,
   lining the horizons of dawn,
      as the lights of the Ferris wheel burn out;
your lips stained with nostalgia,
   kissed with the cherry tint of candy floss;
the smell of clean fabric against your skin--
   I wish I am--
      fragranced with the scent of popcorn--
after the carnival.

how do i tint the world in this colour?
i love this.
this is what i want to live in.
i like my days here.
my heart is beating so fast i can hear it in my head.
YES
this is it !
i’ve never felt more alive !
i’m breathing it and i see it !

every other month,
i fly.
when my mind fills with worries and unease,
my lungs expand with fear not air,
my heart speeds,
and with a single backpack
i take a bus to the airport.
long ride listening to my comfort songs
is just a beginning to my little getaway.
(i already feel calm writing about this moment)

quick 30 mins wait at the gate, then
i fly.
my reality you can wait for me at the airport
right where i left you,
because you deserve a break too.

see you in 5 days.
i'll meet you back at the airport.

I navigated my
way along the
narrow path
ways  that had been
forever inbedded
by the
footsteps of the
young who've
cut
their path
throughout their
years,venturing as I
once did throughout
these ruins.
The narrow trails
from brave riders
who pedal their way
through the past
and in between all that
has been ruined
snaked all around
and in between
this broken
part of the
city.

I approached the
edge of the world with
caution even though
I feared not death.
I listened to the sound
of the Grand Pacifics anger
as it pounded away
at the end of the earth
a deaths
flight  below me.
Visions of the past
when I was that
braver soul
than I am now
crept up on me.
I took them in
then
put them away
in that dark
corner of my
mind where the
good times
are kept.
I laughed it
all off
and continued on.

I made my way
past the remnants
of all that was
once here before
the sea decided to
take it away.
The only signs left
now are just pieces
of crumbling
asphalt and
graffiti covered
ruins.
These cliffs and
these remnants
of a long ago
sunken part of
this city served
as the untamed
and mostly
unsupervised
playground of
my youth.
I played hard
as that young
adventurous
boy who
I miss so much.
Drank even
harder as a
stubborn  young
and unsure
man along these
cliffs.

I stopped and
took in the
tainted
air.
The smell of the fuel and the city
for now wiped away by
the rolling winds
coming in from the west.
The night was alive
with smaller forms of life,
crickets,barking dogs,
spatting feral cats and
the moans of a beaten man
seeking shelter in a hole
beneath a
broken slab of asphalt.
  The sage bush filled
the nightime air
with blessings.
The salt from
the sea almost
tickled
the nose.

Somewhere
in the
distance a ship
sounded its horn.
Sea lions
barked
in time with the
uneven ringing of
the ancient bell
on the ancient
Red buoy
as it rose and chimed
along with  
the swells
somewhere
in that sea
of darkness.

I left the broken
ruins behind
and made
my way toward
the Park
that had been
brilliantly positioned
along the
rim of
the world.
The memories
of happy times
struggled with
my sadness.
The images of better
times demanded
to be remembered.

I started across the
tear soaked grass
as I walked beneath
beautiful ancient Eucalyptus
and Sycamore trees.
Pine trees that
stood slumped over
like the ancient old
men they were.
I stopped half way
to the middle
as a one eyed calico feral
crossed my path .

I've foraged many
a happy memory
with old
forgotten friends
and long departed
lovers within this park.
Drank when the drinking
was done for fun,
and laughed that
care free laugh
I'll never hear again.
Fought a good mans
fight when the
odds were all
against me.
Evened  it out with
a tool made for killing.
Just one more memory
I now live with.

Now after so
many years
and so much
of what this
life has thrown
before me.
I now come
here only
at night,
alone.
When its only me
the feral cats
and the
thieving raccoon's.
Often times,
I'm comforted
by the
old worn
coat I refuse
to replace,
a cheap bottle
dressed in a brown
paper bag and
a mind still alive
with visions
of other times
than these.

I forget
those horrors
that still force
me out into
the night.
And take a lonely
pull
beneath the
Moons silent
glow.
I toast the night
and those
who dwell
within it.
I worked on the
bottle
while staring
into the
darkness at
nothing.

A smile breaks
free across my
tired face as I
 look to the moon
and realize.
This same sacred
Moon light
that shines upon me
is the same
distant glow
that I know
shines somewhere
upon her.

It's 3am

I'm on the phone
No one's awake and I'm alone

It's 3am

The radio's on
Songs are played on lonely station

It's 3am

I'm in my bed
My eyes are open and sleep has fled

It's 3am

I'm on the balcony
The sky is dark and just quite scary

It's 3am

Some windows have lights
Could they also not sleep tonight

It's 3am

I'm still awake
When will life ever give me a break

My father walked me down the aisle,
But my mother held my arm.
He went with me,
But we went not towards the altar,
But towards the door.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And the ***** rang through the church,
Humming through the elaborate crown molding,
Carved by my ancestors.

He went,
Not beside me,
But before me,
And I watched,
As he was illuminated by the bright,
Overbearing,
Texas sun.

My father walked me down the aisle,
But I did not wear white.
My father walked me in silence,
And I shed tears not for a man standing at the altar,
But for the one I would never see again.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And no veil obscured my face.
All eyes were upon me, but not for my pristine beauty,
Instead for my clenched jaw and furrowed brow,
Severe and fierce to distract from my glassy eyes.

My father did not leave me at the end of our walk to sit beside my mother.
She clung to me for support and sobbed breathlessly,
Loudly,
Unavoidably,
And I carried her with one hand,
My sister the other,
And walked towards my future.
A future family,
Not one person more,
But one person less.
I walked,
One final time,
With him.

My father walked me down the aisle,
And I will never forget it.
Hundreds of eyes isolating my family from the crowd,
Slow and muffled sounds drowning in the deafening beat of my heart,
Blurred faces staring,
Black heels clacking against the cobbled path from the church,
The anguished wails of my mother,
The whimpering of my sister,
And the wooden box that glided before us,
Pulling,
A string tied to our patriarch,
The pin key of our family,
Pulled taut and then snipped with the slam of the hearse doors.

My father walked me down the aisle,
Before I had a chance to grow up.
He walked me,
Out of the church,
Away from the altar,
Never to be walked again.

"I love you," I said.
The sound of my heart breaking overcame the silence that followed.

a.g

there once was a young girl with green eyes
who wore her soft blond hair
in braided pigtails

at the age of seven,
she watched her older sister
stand in front of the mirror before school
and pinch her stomach with a disgusted face
          neither of them ate breakfast that morning

at the age of nine,
she watched her older brother
make fun of a girl with glasses
for reading on the bus
          she went home and hid all her books in the attic

at the age of twelve,
she watched the older girls at school
with straight hair and short skirts
put makeup on in the bathroom
and discuss how boys would only like you
if you looked perfect, like them
          the next day she arrived with red lips, short shorts, and no braided pigtails

at the age of fourteen,
she watched her father hit her mother for the first time
her mother cried when she saw her standing in the doorway
and told her daddy didn't mean it
          the next year, she told herself that her boyfriend didn't mean it, either

at the age of sixteen,
she was paper thin and empty
with straight blond hair, red lips,
purple flesh, and lifeless green eyes
          while staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror,
          she thought to herself "at least i'm normal."