eat breakfast with your gold spoon
sit in the front seat of your Porsche
arrive at school with your Louis Vuitton bag
make fun of the kid in a wheelchair during break
eat cold lunch and call the lunch lady fat
laugh at the girl with acne on her face
threaten the teacher when she sends you out of class
get picked up in your Porsche
flick off the kid walking home
have friends over and destroy the house
tell your maid to clean it up
eat dinner with your gold fork
admire your sports awards while you brush your teeth
lay in bed and hate yourself

Its a killer.
Like anger to a bee.
Like Hope in the eyes of a decided fate.
Like Music to my ears, we fade slowly together. Our feet move in step time sync.
Its a beauty; like the swan.
A flap of the wings in the water light.
A twist of the neck; a break of your arm.
It's a killer, with the name of Love.

I.
I can feel the crush of her blueberry eyes
in the grip of your skin.
She stains
the sheets between our twister games,
that scuffle in your bed at night.
and I just can’t wash out
the echoes that she's left in your eyes
where I have turned  
invisible.

This is my goodbye.

II.
You once said, in the heat of your embrace,
that you wanted to hold me close
because I spoke like things
had more meaning than they really did.

But I am not written in braille,
you do not have to touch me to
know me.

III.
I cannot recall the day when I transformed from
your golden chrysanthemum to
the torn-up library book
that you gave and took back
as you pleased.

IV.
I hate the way you kiss
because your lips leave sticky-note
reminders
of the last people you left behind. I fear
my fate will be the same.

V.
The movement of your hips
rippling like waves between my sands
is
overwhelming. Just
stop.

VI.
I will never trust you.

VII.
I feel like a flower.
Standing silent against the heavy rain.
Releasing all my wearied petals in
the coming storm.

This is goodbye.

November 25, 2013 1:09 PM

So what is wrong
And what is right?
A formulaic diatribe
Denouncing young brides
An age-old hunger
For reacquaintance
With the same?

Old mothers and young wives
Brandished Ph.D's and lifelong strife
Carry the baby
Forget the rest
If there's love there's still no rest

*** bubbles up
Thinking its own thoughts
And the anniversary deathbed
Gets soaked again.

Generations of beds
Estate sales of lost loves
A splintered family is less rich
An over-achieving cote of doves.

How to be fierce
Without ****** the Earth
Is a rich boy's dilemma
The rest of us
**** who we wanna.