Pleading for a purchased god
Romanticized for its ancien régime
Celiac, and yet I licked the wheat paste
Of the letter I was was trimmed A4

In all that time spent by the basin
(and its traffic-trimming wetlands)
I only rode my bike to the depot
To color code my calendar

When capital kept its calls collect,
When the gravy train kept me idle
Each chamber would be emptied
Fruitlessly: punch drunk with praise

(Indulge a little)

Each from four through five: orchestrated
The plains always claim the sixth
(Respecting the tradition of western folk)
Only three will ever threaten treatment

I don't ask Do you

love me? as long as I learn --


to understand you.

Compete for your attention,
why would I?

What's the payoff, as they say,
what's in it for me?

Did you learn that?
Did your culture leave you a little,
enough
to know
you got a price to pay for any rest,
true rest, trust me, in peace,
you can't earn that.

Step by step I walk

through the landscape, more and more --


it penetrates me.

Something sings beneath

reality, there's the beat --


of a heart, loudly.

Why do we distort beauty?
Beauty can be power, but it can also be a burden
I never understood, but now I do

When we are not bestowed with it,
We cage it by any and all means possible
We mock those who lack it and hate those who have it

Green monsters rise in us
We blur the pure with cold blacks and angry reds
We blame them while we try to be them
I suppose jealousy is a fickle thing

In the stories of old, they say one is blessed with beauty
To gain the admirable attention of others,
How it must feel to be dotted on

But then comes the curse
Of having too much attention
Of getting the wrong attention
Of being objectified and not respected
Of being catcalled in the streets and attempting to ignore crass comments and rude remarks.

Like the attention
Don't like the attention
To be called beautiful is such a nice thing
Until it's not.

Listen to me, as half as I am
Talk to me, talk about me
to your loved ones, to your friends
Talk!
about my big eyes, my crazy dreams
And I, what I want, is lots of things
to tell you, to touch you
Yeah, that's it

.....Here, this is who I am
.....Here I stand, naked in front of you, yes
.....I am afraid
.....Here I stand, silent in the fuss

Look at me, look at least
to what's left of me
Look at me, before I hate myself
What can I tell you that
no one else would tell you?
Just a few things, but
it's me, who I am, I offer you all
I have, here you go

.....Here, this is who I am
.....as naked as I stand here
.....there is nothing more
.....This is my mouth, my cry
.....okay, this is me
.....Here, here, here I am I
.....my dreams, my desires
.....the way I expose myself, the way I smile
.....Here I stand, silent in the fuss

Don't leave, please, stay for a long time
even if it won't save me, no
but without you I don't know how
Love me like you love a friend
who is leaving forever
I want you to love me
because I don't know that well
how I should love my half me

.....Here, this is who I am
.....as naked as I stand here
.....there is nothing more
.....Here I stand in the fuss and in the storm
.....Please look at me
.....to my eyes and my hands
.....This is all I have to offer
.....my mouth, my cry
.....Here I am, here I am, here
.....here, here
.....here, here

Just another self-indulged addict
Addicted to the attention writing brings
So I indulge this hobby that separates me from them
In hopes you'll give me my next fix
And sustain me the days my creativity runs dry
A writers block
An addicts road to recovery

I write to be different
I write for the attention
I write for my addiction.

Is waiting waiting

if you start having a talk --


about who you are?

It's posed a question
In consideration of your feelings
"Would you like to?"
But really it's a plea
A desire
An outstretched hand
Reaching out during an icy storm

I don't always need to ask for your attention
but I fear waiting for it is not enough
So I open my heart
and bear the icy storm
blindly pushing through the snow
in hopes I happen to walk into your open arms