The poison in your voice as you give me an answer
The feeling that you snicker behind my back
They way you try to be helpful
But your words just feel like a smack
The ground looks awfully nice right now
It's the only thing I can see
Anywhere but here right now
That's where I wish I could be

Theory of a dread
Music in the naked thought
For more, than a kind thank you ahead
Where the cloth is worn, with a purposed climate to rot?

Music with a proud name...
Torrid whole kindred, and a dole of lead
In meager how, the gift of nothing shame?
Reasons and similar essence to rise, and fall with need...

Mercy for a minstrel of heirs?
Taken to lies and school's of thought...
Sweet avarice, do we know you one step more?
Like a bird of war, we see the tried and true, became not...

Them said, the tone of your voice is a sultry longing...
Strength and totals of sincerity, to show you a vaunted
Gold, and the many of sitting for a though, a song
Of guided misery, the stare of unison that joy meant...

A hat full of sunshine, is a waiting lover...?
Known for mutual live and lets give the moment...
With but a song to share, are we a sallow order to those?
With a realm to touch and mendacity in the eaves, is again a lament...?

The shyness of veracity, in your hand for ourselves?
That knew the day of your haunt of justice, wantonness
Courage in the affront of thunderous drama, to acquire a force
Of silence and reason in a marvel of distance, as if the name of our blessing...?

A halting dream with shall to swallow, and the instinct...
Of curiosity with a bridge to essential mere, the times are a changing covenant...?
With the shadow of youth, the honor of what was a method succinct...
Tales of sour chance in the good nature of fear, today is a lovers love...?

reminded of my hurt youth
             that never did quell

reprimand the cowardly self

should have sought
    correction from the harm
                that stoppered me

but i was too embarrassed
            to be met in therapy

My freshman year is ending and I’m as busy as a one-armed juggler. Of course covid is back. It reoccurs at the worst times, like a movie slasher long thought dead.

When we have something scheduled very early in the morning, we call it an “early-burn.”  This one early-burn morning I had a 7am meeting. Peter and I had met for breakfast because he’s back in my life and he’s ALWAYS up and out early.

It was snowing and we were hurrying, because somehow, I always cut things close. I think I tripped over my shoe-string on a patch of ice. I went down hard and I heard this loud ripping sound. I’d ripped my pants badly and my book bag spilled too. I’m scrambling around on the ground in an attempt to grab some loose papers the wind was scattering.

Peter says, “Wow, your ******* are really thin.”

I jump up “I feel you don’t know where our boundaries are,” I laugh, “you’re so nasty - don’t just stand there grinning - HELP me!” I indicate two papers for him to chase. I looked to see how bad the rip was (BAD). Of course, my coat was short that day, so I untucked my blouse. “How does this look?” I asked Peter.
“That works,” he said, giving my fix his imprimatur.

The two of us managed to corral the papers. “Let’s pretend that didn’t happen,” Peter said. I realized I’d ripped my pants leg and scraped my knee badly - it was bleeding profusely.
“******* It!” I went off.

This lady comes up - seemingly out of nowhere - this old white Christian lady who we’d never seen before. She was so out of place and random and she says, “I really don’t think you should be talking like that in public.” She wasn’t harsh.

At that moment, a gust of wind came up that made me lower my head, as though I couldn’t look the old woman in the eyes but I was just ignoring her anyway - having my own set of issues to deal with.

She had a point though. I’m cursing too much these days. I feel like If I admit it, maybe it’s ok but I am trying not to cuss anymore - well less maybe - at least in a negative way.  
“I think you look fu-kin’ GREAT,” would still be acceptable.

Dear careless whisperer,
Some sharings are dagger-edged
and there is no escape when they’re turned on you
no countermagic for the soul crushing embarrassment
dropped as if from a great height.
Did you hear the gun-shot thunderclap of confidence
leaving the room?

Hot Chocolate and Sweets.
A Tigers Eye and candles.
A sweet memory
Of heartbreak.

The last goodbye,
Brought no urges to end.
Not to I at least.
Not to you I hope.

I slithered around your neck like a serpent.
I adored it as if it was prey.
A vampires next meal.
My final taste of you.

Your lips are forbidden fruit.
But i climbed the tree.
I teased the apple.
But the forbidden fruit stayed untouched.

For a second i touched the apple.
For a second you almost fell.
I love your strength.
But I hate that I appreciate it.

Ill never forget that Eve.
The Eve of the Ghost.
The Ghost that could have been us.
But who am I?

A thief?
A madman?
A lost cause?
An embarrassment?