hot coffee and stale cigarettes
while i reflect upon circumstances
and i suspect that the regret
will dissipate, while hope appirates
and my self confidence condensates

so i compensate for a lack of self meaning
by pushing the boundaries of what you seem
to see in them; dreaming of my next moves
like a display at the art gallery
you need to stand behind the line
while i sing "come on over Valerie"

so it's self lobotomy
as i open my mind up to the aether
and either i push forward to let go of her
or i stab the inner me that says i need her

so i make friends with the ladybirds
wasps and the ant hills and burn my lip on my cup as
i make a move to get my fills
and make peace with the fact that everything must one day

go up in smoke.

nick

Dear Me,

Why are you like this?

Not like how others see you or how you present yourself to others but how you really are...

Why cant you ever be strong? Why must you falter when youre needing to be strong?

How can you break so easily and find it so hard to piece back together your broken being?

Is this who you want to be? How you want others to see you? What will they think of you?

So many questions... So few answers

You no longer know who you are do you..?

Sincerely,
me

I have always been
a good test taker
who can follow rules
that only apply
in timed intervals
that occur in rooms
with too-bright lights
and recycled air
that isn't circulating
around the heads of students
that, under normal conditions,
would radiate heat,
but now only emit stress

I have always been
good at rolling my eyes
(in all situations)
but particularly to those
who work themselves up
over means of evaluation
that, while they are determinant
of subsequent events,
do not measure your worth,
value,
or abilities in all areas

I have always been
poor at reminding myself
of these skills
when the tests I take
don't place me
in the same category
in which
I have always been

A quivering drop
                       of tear
gleaming with the fear
                       of pain,
holds back in vain from
                             falling.

He stands helpless as a
                    drop of blood,
oozes in his heart along a
                         slash, love
has inflicted with an invisible
                                         blade.

An extra terrestrial on its mission
                                             wonders,
why didn't they transplant another in place
                                         of the punctuated one,
                                                      
do away with the tear glands and happily
                                                         live ever after.
"Aren't they attracted to each other's bodies?
                                                 then why suffer like this
                             can't they apply their intelligence
                                                                ­               in time,
                                    surrender to pleasure awaiting
                                                                ­    at  arm's length?"

Her cunning eyes
he spied, slyly write
the usual evaluation note
any guy is familiar:
"His eyes are right there
where the difference lies
grazing my curves
as if it is all his;
on the edge he is, I am sure
his eyes are heavily laden
with lust".His eyes,
are they any less?
"She has decided
in an instance to extract
a big price, need to conceal well
emotions like an unfinished sculpture,
till the exact time to unveil"
he gets his report, immediately acts,
her face falls with a thud.