Angels laugh,
At my suffering.
My body is no temple,
And when you touch me
They are entranced
My silent sobbing
Is the music,
That falls in the back
Of their Sunday evening soap.
At least I'm entertaining.

The
Internet
Is the wild west
Of the modern era, with
Vast, open space, laws with few sheriffs
Fights between groups rights and religious beliefs
Unknown connections waiting, and some rustler's crime rings
And a presence of *** overlooked when this is taught to kids

Her life had acquired coffee flavour
and she didn't like to be that bitter
She wanted someone with sweetener    
To make her life taste better

Her hibernation was a drought.
If I'd known that I would have drowned too,
But now I'm left awake
Thinking of everything I've been put through,
And then I'll fall asleep in my own sort of tomb.

becoming a poet since I read more
than I write
becoming a human
since I feel more
of others
becoming a man I stand tall in peace
becoming another
I hope for