She said things,
mean things,
they told me volumes
about her true soul.

I should have
been more bold,
never believed her.

But I was hypnotized
by her pretty-eyes
that hid
her body of lies.

I cry waiting for the
trigger-word
to release me.

How can I watch,
watch you &
not be drawn to you?
Your effervescence flows,
feathers & lace,
a spectacular face,
it makes
my cold-blood boil.

O how I yearn, I yearn!
I burn,
I burn,
I burn
under the full moon,
am forever in ******* to the pitch,
the darkness
that has become my life.

I watch you down on Bourbon Street
with your Mardi Gras spirit,
flaunting your wares,
seemingly without any cares.
But I know better,
I see you
in between the Johns,
tears streaming down
your twisted anguished-face,
no longer pretty in the shadows.
My candle burns,
burns slowly.

And I lie,
I lie in wait,
waiting for the proper time
to make you mine,
my love is genuine.

O my darling street-angel,
soon we will float
forever
in the mist,
vampire-lovers
with the same hot ice-blood.

My kiss is lethal...painless.

Thai smoke swirled,
uncoiling snakes
reaching into Heaven,
lungs exploding,
ecstasy released.

Harmony we found,
us herbal warriors,
brilliant,
enlightened smiles,
high-fives all around.

We sped in slow motion
across the emerald sea,
only to be stopped
by a jailbreak
blaring
so loudly
on FM radio.

It was silly,
us on the bridge,
******,
bewildered,
looking around
as others drove by
sober.

We laughed till
our buzz blew away
with the fading traffic.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMFYs3gfgis

The electricity
vibrates
between them,
creating overloads,
surges of energy,
releasing tensions
in maximum-abundance.

O boy, fiber optic
feels really great,
it seems so brilliant,
love at our fingertips!

But what if,
what if,
I want to
wet my whistle,
taste her
daintily,
paint her
town white,
feel her
heartbeat for real?

Guess, they're the
million dollar questions
that computers
cannot answer
that make us so poor,
so frustrated in cyber-love!

counting breaths and blinks
makes it easier to detach
from hands where hands aren't wanted,
and lips and teeth and tongue and ****
and heat and sweat and rhythm.
heartbeats and seconds in packets of four
are better for the brain
than fists and blood and fear,
and ticks of the clock and fingertips tapping in time
beat uncertainty and helplessness
and not knowing if he's going to live
any day of the week.

i can wash my hands until they're red
(beet red, beat, beet red, beat)
and raw
(and dry and cracked and bleeding and bleeding).
i can write and re-write
and control and perfect,
perfect the verb because
perfect as an adjective is
impossible
(but nothing less will do).
i can line everything up and count it out even,
in fours or
in thirty-sixes,
(six times six, six six times, perfect square, perfect square),
and i can hope
that my neat tall stacks of the things i need to control
will finally outweigh
the scattered mountains
of the things i never could.

i can tell you how and when and where and what,
just please don't ask me why.

I drift to other places
thinking
of you,
the things
you tell me
you like to do.

My heart rises,
feels like its
in my throat,
visualizing
your pretty face,
filling you up
with your desire,
my strong hands
wrapped around
your slender neck
taking you
to new heights.

Speechless,
you do not fight
as I release my total
fury in spurts,
breathless,
not hurt,
smiling
with our eyes closed.

O why
be so sad,
so downtrodden,
feel so depressed,
like you've fallen?

It could definitely be a lot worse,
the hearse could be heading your way,
I hope not......well......

Certainly I do confess, things aren't perfect,
but who said they would be?
Like, we've got the world by the *****,
we need to take it by storm,
shut this computer down,
bundle up,
go outside to play,
take a hike,
count our lucky stars.

Let's do it tonight!

You might just
catch the Borealis
as a bonus.

That should make you happy!

and i bite down on my tongue
and the shaking stops.
i don't know if the shaking
comes from the cold
or the anxiety of peoples eyes,
but all i know, is that the shaking comes back
twice as fast as before
and now it's spreading
from my teeth
               to my jaw,
                     to my hands,
                          to my fingertips.
                               my knees are buckling.
                                           my ankles are tightening
                                                      my chest is heaving.
every breath that leaves my lungs
comes out quivering.
and now i think i can taste blood,
so i shove my hands deeper into my pockets
and pull my shoulders up higher.

"it's just the cold."
"i'm fine."