I don't know you
But I want you.
All of you.
I want to hear your voice
Speak warm laughters
I want your hands to
Trace my geography 
To have them laced in my hair
and lock my fingers
I want your gaze
To drown me
I want the bow of you lip
To see how they pout while listening 
I want you
All of you.

Your name gave me hope, because it was something new.
But sadly I already can see what you're going to do.
You promise that you're different, but I could argue back.
That you stabbed me in the heart, and watched it rot to black.

You're just like all the others, so why should I even care?
Changing your appearance like the color of your hair.
I'm the loser at the bar with his eyes glued to the phone.
In a crowd full of people, I still remain alone.

Uninspired and undesired, I wallow in my fate.
Watching the rest of the world from just behind the gate.
I'm afraid of rejection, but afraid of acceptance more.
Intimacy terrifies me, down to the very core.

I don't understand why
You all look up to me
You say I'm all these things
That I'm so obviously not

Your saying that I'm perfect
I'm flawless, without fault
But have you looked at me
Underneath my surface

You see beauty, perfection
I see scars and mistakes
You see happiness, light
I see anger and hate

I don't think you realize
I'm not the angel you see
I'm not a role model
I shouldn't be put on a throne

I'll never be perfect
I'll never be free
I'm locked inside self hate
I've thrown away the key

So I still don't understand
What you see in me
Why do you look up to
A person I'm obviously not

I really don't get what you see

Mountain Meadows.

I come here on tethered strings

And my heart knows right off where I am

For once I was here lost like and so all alone

But now the gates lie wide open beckoning  me home.

jo.

the lady has me temporarily off the bottle
and now the pecker stands up
better.
however, things change overnight--
instead of listening to Shostakovich and
Mozart through a smeared haze of smoke
the nights change, new
complexities:
we drive to Baskin-Robbins,
31 flavors:
Rocky Road, Bubble Gum, Apricot Ice, Strawberry
Cheesecake, Chocolate Mint...

we park outside and look at icecream
people
a very healthy and satisfied people,
nary a potential suicide in sight
(they probably even vote)
and I tell her
"what if the boys saw me go in there? suppose they
find out I'm going in for a walnut peach sundae?"
"come on, chicken," she laughs and we go in
and stand with the icecream people.
none of them are cursing or threatening
the clerks.
there seem to be no hangovers or
grievances.
I am alarmed at the placid and calm wave
that flows about. I feel like a ***** in a
beauty contest. we finally get our sundaes and
sit in the car and eat them.

I must admit they are quite good. a curious new
world. (all my friends tell me I am looking
better. "you're looking good, man, we thought you
were going to die there for a while...")
--those 4,500 dark nights, the jails, the
hospitals...

and later that night
there is use for the pecker, use for
love, and it is glorious,
long and true,
and afterwards we speak of easy things;
our heads by the open window with the moonlight
looking through, we sleep in each other's
arms.

the icecream people make me feel good,
inside and out.