she's really nice
and very pretty
~
she does my eyeliner for me
she has pockets full of strawberry sugar
and candy colored hair
~
she likes music and art
and maybe even me
~
she's like bubble gum
and a ****** nose
(if that makes any sense at all)
~
she doesn't care
that i'm
too tall
too skinny
too much
~
she's just...
nice
to me
for no reason
~
huh.

I wear compliments like make-up,
it washes off.

I melt in hugs like chocolate in summer.

I eat kisses like candy,
till it makes me sick.

I wear validation like a jacket in winter,
I have to keep putting it back on.

There's something 'bout Halloween
That lights a part of my heart
Usually feeling dormant and chilled
Warms a few degrees above
The falling temperature outside
An Autumn fog comes and fills my mind
Early in the morning when I wake
Its the only time of the year
That I remember being happier
Throughout my childhood
Somehow we always had enough to dress up
Wear socks with holes
With poking toes in too small shoes
Running as fast as my faltering lungs could take me
Door by door on the least scary night
At least for me
For my greatest fears, I faced everyday
In my own home where I feared closing my eyes
I go back, "Trick or Treat", I'd repeat
Knowing anything I'm handed is a treat in itself
Never wanting to go back to the darkest house
Even once all light posts turned off
It's still my favorite

Sweet words in my mouth,
Formed and hardened,
Like indissoluble candies,
Clogging my throat,
Ceasing my breath.

Sweetness overflow,
Rushing in my veins,
Blocking my mind,
Losing my sanity,
Killing me slowly.

And on my grave,
Ants will feast,
They will eat my meat,
Just as if dying,
Is as sweet as living.

With the subtle 𝘱𝘰𝘱 of her bubblegum,
I became numb.
I knew then that I had been trapped underneath
the gentle pressure of her thumb.

Some may say that the greatest treat in life is candy;
the temptation of its sweetness longingly lingering on the tongue,
an unsung reliever.
But temptation itself is the only true greatest treat;
the red heat carried through all senses,
marked as the sweetest sin.

Hazy Day
————-

rose at 3:30am, anticipating an aria of glorious
thoughts needy of capture, encryption, preservation,
three hours later, an empty vessel rides high on the empty
white screen waters of the Bay of Zero, fed by Nada River,
emptying into the Atlantic Ocean, where microscopic is ordinary,
my, my, not~noteworthy contribution, noted for its worthlessness.

delivered the coffee at 7:00am, put on the music,
climbed onto a fresh sheeted mattress, yawning, yearning,
seeking to recover the lost hours and instantly tumbler-in,
inundating random notions, hazardous thoughts,
dispatched to keep me awake, as I trajectory into sleepyville,
each one an angel, coming down Jacob’s ladder for to wrestle
me home, even as the daylight reveled~reveals that a newborn
baby, will be new hot, dangerous, burning hazy day.


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Hazardous Thoughts
—————————-

                                
“It is easier to give love than to accept it.” (Walter W Hoelbling)

Walter, Walter, what an accursed blessing you’ve given me!

This simple declarative is a racking, wrecking, symphonic
synopsis of this man’s life, crying out for une écriture monumental,
that somewhere in a hidden recess has commenced composition,
know not the where or when of it, but the why is a tightening noose,
squeezing my brain, choking my neck, impounding the heart beating,
because with succinct brevity betrayed out loud, my essential secret.


                                                     <!>

Every night I sleep with a woman and a man; the woman, you need
not know, nameless is what you shall call her, but the man, instantly
recognizable as just Leonard, descendant of the priests in the Temple. Me and the baffled King composing our hallelujahs.

                                                  ­    <!>

Art doesn’t not imitate life. It plagiarizes, embellishes, improves, with
tinkered recombinant DNA, shamelessly swiped, for which we forgive the audacity of its thievery, for with each attempt comes a Confession, remorse, nobody cares, whatever. Art supersedes, supplanting and superimposing, by grafting new branches upon old works, even occasionally improving what was once brilliantly original.

                                                     ­ <!>

Note to self: Do not forget to wake ‘n take the garbage, the recycling, and the corrugated cardboard and all previous poems to the Town Dump, before they stink up the garage. Post Office, Pharmacy for local weekly newspaper, no candy.

                                                     <!>

Dozy, sleepy. Sarcastic “great.”  I’ll never remember this poem;
**** these hazardous thoughts on a hot, dangerous, burning,
innocent hazy day.