I saw her in the hospital talking
Her looks got me so amazed
Wanted to get close but I was scared she would push me away
This is my story which is a love tale
I loved her from the first day our eyes met
The first word I heard from her was are you from Sudan I said yes and she said me too
Which dazzled me cause I didn't suspect that and that she was the dream girl I wanted to be with .
I started to joke around with her and as she laughed my heart was filled with happiness and I couldn't stop myself from smilling
I started to give her signs that I am attracted to her and wanted to see did she love me the same way.
I was scared that she may refuse me since I have fallen in love with her and all my senses are calling for her.
Everyone was telling me get engaged to her but the problem was I had nothing but my love that I can provide and I wanted the money in order to make her and I happy as never before.
We had this one fight that I thought I lost her forever .
My heart started pumping and my body started shaking
All I can see was darkness with no light in front of me .
I couldn't delete her from my life or soul.
I was so attached that I feel unhappy anymore.
I wanted to chop myself to pieces just to hear her voice again.
She talked to me after 2 days when I found nothing beautiful anymore my heart starting to fade and nothing ment anything anymore.
We made up and took me sometime to woven my wounds
In the end I decided to confess my love cause I thoought if I don't I will go insane.
I found out more and more she is the girl to be.
The woman I wish to spend my life with til the day I parish or die .
This is the story of the woman I love and never want to leave.
The woman that my soul will always be with her as long as I live.
I love you sweat heart you are all I need.

With regards to Thomas Sayers Ellis*

Look at the
    Lucent lava lamps,
Dark craters
    Hiring hands.
We walked,
    Mimicking magma.
Hot, why is
    This heat?
Forget Vulcan
    And his illusion
Of kaleidoscopes,
    A rip tide
On the shore
    Of our conscious minds.
We held fire,
    Pretending to swim
Underground,
    But only out
Of pure respect.
    Some had boots
Made with
    The clippings
Of funky tripwire,
    Others wore suits
With goggles
    Clamped to their faces,
Gripping like
    Bay Area earthquakes.
One-by-one,
    Jang-strangs were
Attached to us and
    Hurled into the Pit
With rhythmic rituals,
    Waves of S and P
Flailed away
    Like flags.
One nation
    Under a new.
No one looked away
    From the fiery daze.
No one wept.

I can still feel flight
Of buoyant fleeting
Motion flowing through
These now weighted limbs.
And my heart still sputters
In 5, 6, 7, 8 time
To Balanchine's divine
Choreographies -- Oh,
Spinning in ecstasy,
Visions of ghosts in me,
Waltzing with ******* and,
Overworked tendencies,
Blink -----
And you'll miss
That moment when
Dreams became ash
Falling from rafters.
Dust glistening in afterglow
Appears to shimmer
Even when it lands in your eyes.

You better kiss me,
your mouth parted and lips
wrecking into the vagabond breath
that escapes from the center of what
I've been talking, and talking, and talking about
all the while you're trying to just shut me up.
So you better kiss me, kiss me
with your hands below my hips
pushing the skin from my bones
and pulling the sins from my mouth
just to spread them on our bodies.
We collide, half-inspired and arching
my back with your hands cupping the dimples
above my tailbone, jumping over my vertebrates,
reaching for my neck to press yourself, harder,
into me. Lights out, sheets to the end of the bed,
I sigh into your ears, XO. Again, and again, and again
gently until I'm bruised and ripened, soft,
pulsing on the verge, releasing our glow
crashing into you, kiss me, kiss me
you better kiss me.

I.

this room tastes like a storm on the sea:
salt crashes in waves
against the soft shore of my lips,
hot like thunder, hard as hail.

drenched, desperate, drowning,
fingers palm-deep in wet earth,
you infuse my blood with lightning,
fill my lungs with water,
pull me under--

a death knell floods our ears,
a furious cradle of waves;
our eyes shut, lashes silvered with rain,
mouths crushed, sharing one last breath,
electricity still humming at my core,
our bodies making
last promises

II.

the current lifts us to the surface;
we clasp each other and pray to the old gods
ignite us, belyse oss, strike us, ignite--

the sky yellows over us
and we taste petroleum on our tongues
and we dig in with fingers and limbs
we absorb each other, we hold--

your eyes are blue as the water
when the wind rips you from me--

ignite us ignite us

lightning breaks the tempest--

bathed in gasoline, we become
two flames in the sea,
inextinguishable.

there is a second stomach
and it is where words and sentences go
when you swallow them
instead of saying them out loud
And this process has become such
a mundane and common routine
that my second stomach is
overloaded with ugly
and unforgiving words
and if I am not careful
I will ***** all over you

My friend Murphy knows all kinds of things about everything.
Like the chemical composition of LSD and how to dance ballet.

He told me once that there are an infinite number of universes,
where each possible variation in life has happened and I think
it's kinda funny and I think it's kinda sad

that I'm stuck in this one

Is this a power hierarchy?
Does our dueling footwork
Convince us to
Lock into some sort of
Competitive symmetry,
Twisting into your
Mashed potato minefield with
Doo *** , doo dad laden
Dancing shoes?

Gimme your
Electronic sympathy, baby,
Infiltrate the airwaves with
Piercing eye contact and
Tremourous finger tip brushes.

Is my informality coming through?
Have I communicated with
Unlocked elbows and
Megaphone ears that not only
My body but universe
Lives here and in you?

Orient yourself to me,
I task while asking you to
Take off your straight jacket and
Stay a while. Unlock your
Pandora 's box so your
Monsters can meet mine,
Mirrored in different shades of
Shock and shame, operating under
Varied hues of the same name.

Lean into me, let your
Shoulders slender and shimmy to a
Tenderizing touch, the
Objects under your skin collapsing
To the 4/4 timed battle
Between form and perception.

The ingestion of the
Metaphor is the message, and
The tongue regards a tune
Differently than a taste.

Face symmetrical, nostrils work,
The blooming waste of consumption
Centered on the top right corner of
Your cheekbones.
I can't help but grab the
Slight upswing in the tone
Of your voice and spin it around;
Let's swing, darling.
I'd like to take your descriptors
On a date to the dance floor.

How long can we keep this up until meaning has waltzed out the door?