So
I get it out of you at last
And it occurs to me for the first time
You search for that magical type of love
You, who are unbroken
I tell you, you are it for me

for those of us whose arms bend backwards
I see you behind the mirror
And I know you die
The moment those headphones are in

my sister is gone
and the cat is gone
and my brother is gone
and my mother's been knocked out since noon

Sweet nothings bore me.

Secrets shared in the first ten minutes
are worth less than the effort it takes me
to hear them.

So say something new, in words
that burn my skin when they touch.
Must try harder.

(3 Senryus)

No - don’t kiss me
unless you're planning to
start a new habit.

Don't borrow kisses
unless you can return them
with real interest.

Remember boy-O
it's all fun and games 'til
someone falls in love.

Hello,  I am a puddle person.
I'm certainly not the only puddle person, of course.
And I often think I'm more puddle then person.

I lay on the floor still.
People come by and see themselves reflected in me.
Sometimes they step in me,  and drops of me splish around and evaporate.

I'm content being a puddle it's, comfortable.
People are aware of me whether looking at themselves, tip toeing around me or jumping in.

I am NOT invisible.

Love me or hate me this puddle person isn't going anywhere,
until I become more puddle then person.

so badly I wish to be poetic
I drink my tea in the moonlight
take evening strolls in the rain

I bring a tattered notepad with me
to the café
to the museums
I choose my words so carefully

But I'm sitting alone,
at three in the morning
writing this "poem"

and I don't feel poetic at all