All my poems are gone
and my friends left, too--
maybe I'll **** myself because
I'm feeling pretty blue.
I know it shouldn't matter
I know I shouldn't care;
they're just words on a page
and thoughts in the air.
But maybe my life was saved
inside each one,
a catalog,
an encyclopedia,
I miss them a ton.
But I sail away
on my cheetah print sheets
to a passed out land of
marijuana dreams and
inebriated streets.

Like mood swings
on a pendulum,

My desire to give a ****
has gone again.

Only glass shatters
stop your plastic tears,

You're too **** precious to know a paper cut
I'll scream at you real world fears.

it hit me sometime later that graduation is life's greatest metaphor.

you show up early confused about where to go
you stand in a line that you're not sure you belong in
you march, following your peers, hoping you're going the right way
you fill out a form so someone older than you can correctly pronounce your name
you sit around and listen to adults talk, but you don't really pay too much attention
your name is called, a few people clap
then it's over.  

and you stand outside and ask:

"what now?"

You said you'd come to tea
so I made a cake
chocolate sweet; maraschino filled;
girdled with a satin blue ribbon;
set out the prettiest plates;
hand painted with forget-me-nots.
And from the darkest corner of a drawer
found a single candle to celebrate the day.
I'd understand if you had 'phoned,
but now the chocolate lends a bitter taste
and even the despairing posies have given up all hope
as the candle's flame flickers my ever waiting shadow.

First it’s, “I don’t have time”, and then it's, “can I talk to you for a minute?”.
But if I say yes, will you tell me your regrets?
Will you switch the song tune, can I sing along with you?
How about we harmonize your precious lies, that intricately constructed my hearts demise?
Let’s add up all the seconds that you didn’t have, put them in an hourglass and go back the past.
The past you told me to leave alone, because it’s dark outside, and you want to come home.
It wasn’t me, it was you.
It wasn’t you it was us, so I let go and now you’re looking for my trust? 
So now I’m supposed to look past your flaws and into your eyes? 
Isn’t it funny how time flies?
Don’t tell me about myself, or who you think I’ve become. 
I’m not mad, I’m not spiteful, the only thing I am, is done.

I fear the way you love me:
That tender-touching kiss
Seducing me to nightly
Sink deep in your abyss.

Those smooth caresses take me
To places that I dread,
Your cunning fingers rouse me
To plan such lies ahead.

But while we writhe and tumble
In lust's hypnotic hold,
I fear the final stumble
That will see the truth unfold.

Your smile
tastes of mint smoke.
It’s refreshing
against the taste of my tears
and the drink you gave me
to stop them.
Your eyes
trace their way down
my body
seeing
knowing
touching
every little sweet spot
long forgotten.
Your hands
melt into mine;
a connection revisited.
And for a moment
I see in your gaze
that (love lust longing) we shared.
I blink
and it is gone
in the moonlight
and blinking light
from your clock.
So I close my eyes
and let the smell of tobacco
in your hair
and the smile against my lips
bring me
to a dark connection
I know far too well.
We can be together.
Just one more time.
Just for tonight.

I dreamt that I'd tell you,
  I dreamt I'd convince you.
I dreamt you would love me
and I too would love you.
I dreamt of perfection,
a dream so romantic.
I dreamt you would smile
and carefully panic.
I dreamt you would hug me.
  I dreamt we would both see,
together we're better -
  I dreamt you weren't choosy.
I dreamt up the ways
of how I could tell you.
I dreamt up bouquets
and a time and place too.
I dreamt that I told you.
  I dreamt that I could do.
I dreamt that it happened.
  I dreamt of a breakthrough.

instead i told you
at 3am   drunk   on facebook
*and i took it back the next morning