An ode to my father,
for whatever reason.
The father who seems to find
great joy in the fights.
The father who never
tells me goodnight.
To the father who loves,
to the father who hates.
To the father who stands there
guarding the gates.
To the father who's sweet,
to the father who's sour.
To the father whose glare
makes me sink down and cower.
To the years of the silence,
to the years of crushed dreams,
the years of good memories
ripped down the seams.
To the years of the love
you showed to my sisters,
while I annoy you
like a pestering blister.
To all the time crying
spent alone in my bed.
To the feelings of loneliness
you've ingrained in my head.
An ode to you, Father,
For whatever reason.

Admitted affection
or fear of rejection,
accepted attention from sweet souls
or incite admiration from attractive ones
Skinny-dipped, touched lips
with anyone
or even hold their hand,
been free
or properly controlled myself when necessary,
only potentially destructive
but without the nerve to do so,
never fully accepting though the concept makes sense,
I read a book or two on the topic,
the practice much less tangible,
maybe only for the few who have the guts to try,
not for those who sit and wait for confidence to make a move
to play Russian Roulette with another
I never owned a gun but still shot myself in the foot
same place, again and again
just stuff myself with food and alcohol
numbness better than reality
right?
Not quite
I exist to try to live though it's so simple it's a mockery to attempt to apply words to the concept
stand up stand proud sing
be the type of person you admire
never have I ever
felt quite fulfilled
though maybe such things are mirages,
messages to be pretty but never found or acheived,
never have I ever
believed in my self.

I was trying to change you, yeah I was
To push you around, like a dog, like a cat
like an animal cause I think you should be made into a mat
Oh, but I wasn't, I didn't mean to bite you so mean
But I am an animal, a diabolical creation too
So let us growl and bare our teeth
Let the blood pour down onto our feet
Wait, just stop, I back down you can push me around
I like the violence, the impact of your hate
on the things that I've become as of late
So could you give me a tissue now?
I would like to wipe the blood from my mouth
Let's play nice, let's hug it out
But I can't, I want, the change, it creeps me in underneath your skin
you can't wait, you send an invitation
Taste a bit of your poison, hanging from your fangs
I reach in and I'm down your esophagus
I nestle and I begin to digest into your vessels,
And I feed you my evil, this courage you crave
undeniable.

Is there a doctor in the house?
I think I'm having southern withdrawl symptoms
shakes and such
brain a blubbering mess
why give one so much feeling
if they can't get rid of it healthily?
Too much for one body to handle
maybe throw in another personality
nothing bad ever happend
just a technical problem during manufacturing
a wire connected wrong
or not connected at all
amygdala super sensitive
looking for comfort in wrong places
stupid faces
blazing aces
therapists are kind but really need a map
words only convey so much
can't help if they can't understand
whose fault is that?
Probably the broken robot
me
doesn't speak in proper vernacular
accustomed to being freakish and safe
greasing joints with *****
circuit boards of tofu scramble
electric feed back every once in a while
when I cough
perhaps new meds will calm overactive internal reactions
or maybe being all vulnerable to candy hearted young men
spilling secrets and insecurities to friends
but they'll all leave
right?
Europeans had no problem taking over lands
staying with natives
eating their foods
but if the natives had shared their deepest secrets and feelings
pilgrims would have gladly returned home for persecution
than to put up with an emotional Squanto.

Listen close to this and let me paint a picture.
Inside my mind, where it's way too dark for any fixtures.
A mixture, of hail and hell inside my brain.
Feeling like both sides of two oncoming trains.
Twenty-three cars in a one car-lane.
I don't know why I kinda love the fact that I'm deranged.
Sane or insane, some think that the latter's bad.
I'm the calm before the storm, the storm, and the aftermath.
All rolled into one, it's hard just to contain.
Hard to not change, even harder to explain.
I might explode and leave behind a stain in my name.

ummm!! I'm gonna take his
blindfold off for him to savor
me with his gaze, eyes roam
touchin' me in silent awe; finger
tastin', the unthinkable, straddlin',
squeezin', teasin' and grazin' nips
leavin' wet trails of pleasure upon
briny masculinity; listenin' to his
heart race, ignites lustful tremors

stroked insanity, slippery slit teases;
thoughts throb, as thickness swells,
swollen senses breathe deeply of
soaked scents; flickin' bud betwixt
achin' petals...****! Oooo!...yes!!
soft, ebony fingers assault and swirl
elicitin' moans and sighs, takin' nips
betwixt teeth again as fingers enter
swollen honeycomb; overflowin' in
sweetness

sweat rolls off our body, bitin' nips
eruptin' sparks of long awaited aches,
dominance partakes its desire, slitherin'
along bouquet thighs, blossomed scents
flow; emanating moans givin' reason to
beg; biting silk sheets, tonguin' his treat
actin' like a freak, lovin' me cheek to
cheek; playin' me like a symphony
strummin' thighs, releasing melodious
sighs, sensual cries in sultry lullabies
in trebled tempo's in and out of wet
tightness, as I blindfold him; complyin'
with his ****** whims...takin' me again and again

in our reflections I've
attempted to aggrandize
my perception
of I, cocooned
in the softness of
her petals bringing
about our dawning

as if, giving breath
to our birth, unfolding
upon a new sunrise
and we breathe in
the delicacy of nature
as I caress newborn
pouted lips

we gaze upon our
reflections together;
marvelling of God's beauty,
instilled within; as we
curl into warmth of limbs,
embraced in consummated
hunger; adorning ourselves
with earth's reflective hues

as in completed gestational birth...

reflecting new beginnings...

cocooned in bliss...

as I became hers...

and

she became mine...

while age is only a number,
experience is a set of volumes.

you, thanks to time and genetics,
have overflowing shelves.
you've done it all.
a house of your own.
a car of your own.
a cat.
a rose garden.
(are you gay?)
nieces, nephews.
unfixed income.
"making it."
how can i be so proud of you?
it's hardly been 4 months
since
i ran into you in the doorway
of the bar
trying to make my exit unnoticed
as i had avoided you not one hour before.
knowing one of us would have to say "hi" first.


but that was then.
now is this.

this
this
this dull glow
that never leaves my heart.
someone's always stoking the fire.
your shift starts
now.