Chew me, will you?
Chew me, won't you?
Wedge me 'tween two
wine-stained yahoos.
Soak my core through
scaly beast, You!

Look at me.

I've become so theatrical, lying here, drowning in oddments and drool. How long now have I rotted in the eves I've missed, ****** away paths and pavements creeping like mold over my timber skin.

To think, I could have been a Great American Novel, a Wonder, a Classic. My torso might have melted the hearts of millions, the fingers of my web might have crawled carefully down their backs, spinning - oh so suddenly - a twist into their spines, while they themselves press loving, thrilling craters into mine.

I might have swept up her posthumous time machine and his mad spiral from the clouds in the booming wood and brass of one tender-fingered soldier's Trojan triumph over death and his countrymen.

But here I am, a Janitor, an Afterthought. Sweating in my splintered coat, stabbing at wet hunks of lamb that shamelessly remind me of how Wasteful I am.

I could’ve woken you up in the morning and could’ve been the sun that rises even when we both live in a place where it never does.
I could’ve taken you to museums, at least 2 of where I’ve been to. The first one, we’ll have to take the bus because I’d tell you that I’m too lazy to drive but for the second one, I will tell you that I’ll drive you there.
My car would look at me as though it knows that there is another soul seating in the passenger seat – it was no longer some books, a box of pizza, or my dog.
I could’ve taken photos of you in that place, post them everywhere but subtly so that they can see that there are at least 2 forms of art in that photo — the one you’re looking at and the one I’m looking at.
I could’ve talked to you at night under the stars, in the same rooftop where I told you that I liked the cathartic experience of doing just what we could’ve done; the same rooftop where you talked about your life, at least some pieces of it.
I could’ve brought you to where I used to study. We could’ve walked the halls that stared at me for being too alone and too lonely only so I could tell them, “Hey, here he is, finally.” and they could’ve smiled at me because they know how long the longing lasted.
We could’ve taken a stroll in the shade of the trees or could’ve had a picnic there while watching the joggers and the sunset.
I could’ve introduced you to my friends – they’ve been meaning to meet you. They too know how long I’ve been stuck on an island by myself. They know who I was when I was eleven and when I was sixteen and I bet, if you gave them a chance, you could’ve heard the crazy things we did.
And maybe they could’ve liked you. They could’ve told me how lucky I was and probably would’ve warned me that if I hurt you, they’d stick with you instead of me.
I could’ve introduced you to my family — my mom liked you even then. I could’ve introduced you to my little brother who I would consider as the biggest and most important judge of character because I believe that children can sense goodness in people and he could’ve seen that in you.
I could’ve written you letters, could’ve left random little tokens I would've used for all the words I cannot muster to say.
I could’ve played the piano for you even if I just know, at most, 3 songs; even though I don’t really know how to read notes at all.
I could’ve introduced you to the artists I like and I could’ve known more of yours. I could’ve listened to them and I would have had to remember you every time.
I could’ve held your hand, could’ve eaten brunch with you, could’ve read you a poem.
I could’ve loved you — could have – if I was the given the chance.
But, I was and I could’ve used it but I didn’t.

A feeling inside of me
I can’t understand
Of you and me
Holding each other’s hand

Now I look at them
And see what I mean
Of what then
We could have been