When your gaze scours my curves,
I feel naked, yet cloth pulls tightly.
You go beyond ******* me with your eyes.
Tequila has nothing on the way you look--
at me.

When you speak to me, only me,
The lead of words is turned into
The gold of excitement.
Every syllabe tickles my sensitive stimuli,
Every word seduces my thought,
Until all I can utter is--
"more".

Hot breath on my neck drenches
My senses, leaves me breathless.
And when I ask, "can I borrow yours?"
Your kiss rivals that of the french.
So hot, our lips are not our own.
Then your tongue turns into Columbus,
and explores.
Your touch is my master,
Your movement my release.

And when finally,
Liquid love makes my clothing
Suffocating.
There is only one word on my lips--
"Remove".

I do not think it’s important to do
I think I would rather just think
I’ll think about all of the books and the arts
And even my own kitchen sink

I’ll think about how the world's gone wrong
And all the injustice I see
I’ll contemplate everything and then think some more
When I eat, when I sleep, when I ***

There’s so much to do, so little time
But there’s also just so much to read
How can I know if my actions are good
If I don’t know where my motives lead

I stare at the corkboard in university square
Ten thousand calls to action thereon
I think and I think about which is best
I’m sitting there thinking till dawn

Perhaps Marx was right, and all of these causes
Save one, economic, is right
Perhaps all the rest are just there as distractions
Keeping us home from the fight

But then again, perhaps that’s not true
Perhaps they all DO need some help
Perhaps each struggle for justice is just
Lets save all the whales and the kelp

But I think, I think, I don’t know what I think
But I’ll know when the thinking is through
And when I’m done thinking I’ll have an Idea
That will dump all my thinking on you.

I think that this thinking ‘round which I center my life
is really a tool of The Man
And I think that they think that I’ll lay down my knife
To think about my empty hand

And I think that it's working because I don’t fight
Rather, I sit here and think
I think about all of the books and the arts
And even my own kitchen sink

I think about why I think what I think
I think about why I exist
I think about why they all hate them all
I think about why they enlist

But I never stop them, I just don’t have time
There’s really just too much to do
When I finish this Zizek I’ll move on to Sartre
And then, I’ll read Heidegger too

I look at a billboard and think to myself
That’s propaganda He wrote
I give it no notice and keep walking by
Give it barely a mental sticky-note

But ten thousand billboard and ten thousand signs
Now that stops me dead in my tracks
I look at them all, and analyze each
Criticizing their mindsets; false facts

Too many opinions too many books
made far too open, too free
I sit, I absorb, don’t know what to do
As people die not blocks from me

I’m lost in the maze of my ivory tower
Trying to get to the top
To get to the cheese that I know I can smell
And regardless, by now I can’t stop

I think revolution at graffiti strewn walls
What who when how I should fight
And cries of black children beaten by cops
Go unheard by my ears each cold night.

Do you forget,
or burn your memories into your heart?
Wipe the mind clean,
or juggle the shattered flaws of gone?
Blame God, or x-rays,
or chance or fate?
Remember love,
or drown in hate?
You forgot it all, his 5 years.
All you have left is anger,
Your love for him now less to you
than your hate for God.
You've denied  his face, won't hear his voice.
Don't see him playing, so ill with his toys.
yet giving his presents away,
to another sick boy.
5 years of sickness,
5 years of joy.
I see him, hear him,
smell his little baby smell.
I will remember him forevermore,
he still was the best of us four.