Remember when this used to be a bodega where you could by an egg a few cigarettes and some *******?
I only bought **** there
a couple of times
I really went in there for milk or coffee
or an Entenmann’s raspberry danish in the big long rectangle.
I don’t remember the brand I smoked then
but they didn’t sell them.

The guy next door in my building had a thing for rich girls with flash cars
who would buy him clothes and other such presents
He was from the OC
and what he was doing in Brooklyn
I don’t even know
He got involved with some local
Columbians
Through the corner bodega
And of course proceeded
to date one of their women.
The OC Romeo.
Lady Lover.
Irresistible.
Pink Lacrosse shirt.
Turned up collar.
Leisure slacks.

I had to tell him once to not slap his thigh at me
When I passed him
on that corner
Posing with his newfound buddies.
And to give me back my cassette.
He tells me he left it out on the window sill
And it rained and got wet.
I said give it back anyway.

Not too long after he was gone.
Both he and his yuppie roommate
I heard he moved back to Newport Beach.
I wondered why he ran
Cuz I know he ran
Fast
I had some crazy neighbors in Hollywood
who disappeared
into the Russian night.
Someone spotted them a year later.
Playing with the wrong people.
Taking liberties.
Conning a con.
Your life really is not worth
very much
in those circles
so you’d better be quick on your feet.

The small hands of a child
Are innocent
Reaching for fake animals
Or candy bars.
But his mother
Says he shouldn’t have been here
His father
Never kisses him.
He has nothing to reach for.
A child can be born without innocence.
Small hands can do more
Than reach for fake animals
Or candy bars.
A tiny killer, he is.

You hold me in your arms and caress
My hair, I feel so soft as a feather, I grasp
At your short dark hair...so light and smooth.
Until you are kissing my neck, you move
Along so graceful, playful-wild-all that you do.
You hold me so close, I feel as if I am lost
In the world of natural love, like there is
A never-ending supply, gold from the skies above.

In time I am rocked back and forth between
The ebbing tide like a flow of water from the sea
Is holding me. It keeps me in a form of motion
Not unlike I am a boat and your arms are the sea.
Visuals aren't needed, this is all I feel and all I see.
We are sitting there in the green green grass,
It's a beautiful warm day, all sunshine and soft rain,
As if it was brought about from a world so divine.
We will forever be in this place...we'll always stay.
It's always 1989...always 1989...

too be honest,

you turn me on.

i'm hooked.

i'm high.

feelings,
believing...

you're in love with me.

She was the venom I wanted, collecting within mind.
My thoughts corrupted by that slithering smile.
But all I wanted was that look dissolving my will,
her bite corrupting my weakened will.
Her voice corroding my resolution of that smile.

Looks that could give a stroke to those of weak inclination.
Her touch would climb upon contemplation and weaken
the perception of all falling within her gaze.
She was the poison that I wanted corrupting my sweat.
Have you ever kissed something so sweet that you
go blind, the look that erodes my will...

I wanted to touch every moment, but my senses
were being influenced by her hypnotic glares.
She gave a reflection of love, but they were eroding
my senses of what was safe. But I couldn't touch,
because she was the venom on my brain.
I wanted to touch, but her sweet venom numbed my brain

Looks that could give a stroke to those of weak inclination.
Her touch would climb upon contemplation and weaken
the perception of all falling within her gaze.
She was the poison that I wanted corrupting my sweat.
Have you ever kissed something so sweet that you
go blind, the look that erodes my will but I'm fine...

They said they had to **** my dreams
because I didn't have enough zeroes.
In other words, Mr. Doe, you were
                     lied to by your heroes;
money isn't everything,
but not having it is being invisible.
You can work sixty hour weeks,
but only earn ways to be miserable.

My parents paying four-fifty, monthly
-- which is not a lot of money; we had
to eat out of cans and delude ourselves
into thinking it was funny. Sorry, Does;
                              sorry for your woes --
but America is the big hunter, and your
                            death is how it grows.

We were not equal; no account because
                   we had no account. Asked by
our family members if we bought junk
                      in a large amount. I'm sorry
to disappoint myself -- but I
                                         cannot afford
                                                   to lose.
I am the result of a flawed America
                                     that has learned
                                                to abuse.

Chained by fatigue to the stairs
Of the shrug shouldered parliament
Encapsulated by the coat of the
Hunters that sleep in snow
That sulfur in the ash
Holds many of them in its
Malicious muzzle with the
Indifference of politicians
That both bite and swallow only to
Bloat their collective belly
And will lash at each other
With suicidal ferocity and the
Only reward they foam for is
Reverence of ******* couched
In heavy leather wheelchairs
Venting smoke like the volcanic
Seismic violence and flick the
Cinders into the valley with which
They open only to feel distain towards
While we in sleep close out eyes further still
and further and further still

How badly I want to be in that
John Hughes film
I want the cheesy romance
That reeks of tears for fears
And looks like the **** or geek or criminal
That sixteen candle
Sitting on your 944 porche
With the credits rolling up kind of romance
Please leave your notebook at home
Locked up with a vow you don't remeber.
I want that weird science kind of chemistry
A day off involving you
I can look pretty in pink
I can look pretty in Hughes of you.