My hand hesitates above the button
"Unblock"
Just millimeters away from my fingertips
Pieces of your life could appear in seconds
With just a little pressure
Yes, I know last time this hurt me
But maybe this time will be different
What's one more time
Just one more visit to your page
Gently the button clicks and your name disappears
I search it and easily find your page
A lot has happened since I last checked
And it's funny because
Even though I'm reading them
The poems themselves tell me nothing
Like mine, theres no way to know
Who it is you are speaking of
Though every so often
I read one that hits me in the gut
It makes my heart hurt and my stomach curl
Because I'm almost sure that
The person you're writing of is me
And you are still hurting
You're still angry at me
I want to like the poem
I want to open a door for you to see
So maybe I can help give you closure
I'm itching for you to talk to me
And as my finger
Renters a state of hovering
Over yet another virtual button
I realize that it wouldn't help you
I'd only be hurting you further
And I don't want to do that to you
I realize that my missing our friendship
Is solely a desire of mine
And it would be cruel
To drop in on your life again
I'm sorry for what I did
And I'm sorry I'm struggling so much
To let that piece of us go
But your feelings about me are clear
So even though it hurts to read
Just how much I destroyed you
I think it's just what I needed
To stop getting my hopes up
And to stop pressing your buttons

So Crazy, yet my reasons why left hazy.
I know me, “Days he speaks words so lazy.”
I know me “Ways he flow ain’t as elegant as no daisy.”
Life is phasy, phasing from wrongly known to knowing to write.
I need to be right, these fists are flying and dying to know who to fight.
I need to be set alight to be seen, attracted by spectacle buy tickets to me crying.
Though I’m spying on success to see if it’s alright, it looks pale and drying.
Trying to know when this frying of skin is vying for success not lying to my pen and time buying.
Pride is prying to know when I’m up in flames but that’s anybody’s guess.
I’m in the paper, but hated by the press. Print me a teen that could have been.

Baby, I think of you on the daily, my morals ain’t shady but body shaky.
Hair so wavy such a lady I think that maybe our life could be easy lately.
I need to be loved, it bites, such blight on my minds white light.
It’s a delight, though lack of foresight. Despite my flames do ignite my gravestone.
I’m complying to them but applying to beat them supplying my unfair life undying.
I’m just edifying on etiquette. Clarifying on Clarity. Fortifying my new fortune.
Success is mystifying but horrifying up close and oh does it feel gratifying!
Acknowledge me be, stress leads to a field day for that same press.
Assess the attention, Address the Advice, Repress wrongly found success.
Somewhat clean, sometimes mean, On Results I never fall but I always lean.
Need not consult the occult on how to be an adult. I need to be in a winners Catapult.

I need Attention. I need love, Not to mention, No more doves.

I sat on the edge of the lake
on the biggest rock by the shore.
Midnight was the clock,
starry the sky,
frozen was the earth.
I looked up from below and saw Orion's Belt.
The stars on his hilt,
to the twinkling lights of his bow.
I could see them.
I could see all of them.
In that moment, I remembered something.
A poem he said he'd written
for me.
He'd called it Orion's Belt.
I remember what it was like
to be his,
but I remember so much else now.
He's a liar.
How much of what he told her
was true?
All of it?
Maybe;
none of it.

--J

I saw him at the pool in Mexico. Laughing with his friends. I haven’t forgotten their names, nor their faces. It was wonderful to see them all again.
I could see, he’s happy.
As I walked past, my heart wrenched in my chest. My lungs stuttered.
My step, though, did not falter.
We may both be young at heart and as foolish. Oh, but I could not approach.
I don’t want to be the cause of his frown, no more than I want to see his eyes light up at me again. No. So I walked past.
Head held high, for all the tears that sill fall on my cheeks.

I saw him at the pool.
But it was only a memory, and no more.

What means it, that I a man
Renounce the fabric of souls?
Lineage not in thought, but surely in clan.
Stay silent til perish. Yell out in anguish. Having holes.
Let us see,
Who I could be.

I am a pious man
And take this from my belief,
Death means nothing to us
Glory awaits loyal men.
I shall not know answers
Until I have long perished.
But God loves me, and her.
Must an angel fall for me?
Evil has Genesis,
In the majorities sake.
The world is to end soon.
**** opens to wicked men.
Barren, worldly ******.
Birth the christ unto our kind.
Visions of futures past
Are at the hand of my God.

I am a pious man
And take this from my kinship,
Children grow in heaven
And grow ripe in jesus’ reach.
Though not as one being,
God, Jesus one in purpose.
Do not indulge in fruit,
But replenish the Earth’s land.
With those of my ***** birth.

I am a pious man,
And take this from my namesake,
We are generous men.
Neighbors above our purpose.
We proselyze our word
Golden and Holy Teachings.
I pray to my Savior
As if he sat next to me.

I am a Pious man,
And take this from my Wife’s love,
I am glad I changed me.
Abandoned the world, two years.
I love our children so
Reflected of Holy light.
I have so much more faith
Than any men ever needs.

I am my own man,
And take this from my questions,
Few answers manifest thoroughly in session.
And inconsistencies are greater than.
I love a Pious Woman,
I fear what she must know
I know no gladder Teachers,
Than a priestess in her veil.
But give her another man.
As I’m cursed with knowledge so.
I await her enthusiasm
To convince my soul to grow.
But I mostly know my answer
So I fear her response.
I am no Pious man.
What awaits me at the morrow.
Be Myself I can.

I am no Pious man,
And take this from my hardships,
I love a Pious Woman
While on a Godless trip.

Do we pray if in the universe alone?
Are our hearts void prone?
Fill them with what our hearts make known.
For she knows, beautiful on the throne.
To her the universe and its nature was shown.
Her mind is her universe, her perceptive zone.
And everything around it, proof set in stone.
But be it so, from conscience desire we take a loan.
For many on points may agree, in our own little worlds we are lone.
For what does a God make but things to atone?
Only but victims to sanctification, deified backbone?
But she sees it, beyond our eyes and senses a capstone.
Our evils we disown
Our deeds we enthrone.
I cease to understand, this love gemstone.

I do what I think, and from it know what I feel.
For reality and it’s perceptions I know not the deal.
I know what it isn’t but not to it’s spiel.
For reality in a basket was packaged and sealed,
I know not the inscriptions, but I know their look and it’s seel.
For I take pride in my work, and to thank need I kneel?
Must I sacrifice the heart and the veal?

But it is in her heart, Jesus her hero.
Pointing out her path, in a linear arrow.
Predisposed and into it’s comfort borrow.
Change is menacing, of a ruthless bureau.
But look at the stars more clearly.
Must a human like being, put us here his villains to him and his son the Heroes?
But I feel scrutiny drawing nearer.
As my era of silence draws to a close, I must either rebel or cry “ditto.”
Worship is communalism, it is understood through a collective limbo.
They know some things are wrong but not why, and others mirror.
You cannot have it both ways, at night and in morrow.
Yet there she is, sleeping through sermons but claiming them thorough.
Perhaps she is afraid of a Godless sorrow.
Of those who drift too far, from morality they widow.

But morality is not in every deity.
Morality is Mortal and Ambiguity is Immortal.
Commands change, principles are idle, ideals and idol.
But inward, subjective observation reaches divinity.
I must let her know this, my Goddess.
She reminds me of humility, to love, my lord.
Her reminders of myself are divine.
And her arms are better than heaven.
What is of Satan but condemned from the moment of creation?
Love is the thing that reigns Almighty.
To others my wise sounding works I hope to bless.
And her and I, lovely we are not saints.
But Saints are of God, Ethnocentric to Abrahamic virtues.
Cut your *****, supply ****** no mercy.
**** your sons for your liege.
God is violent, Jesus is peaceful.
How must they agree? Let alone be the same person?

Love across the veil
Doubt only in these moments
“We pray to thee God.”

Hey,

Maybe we can have a conversation
About our flaws
In all their enormity

Future built on stable uncertainty
How can I ensure
You’re the one for me?

I’m scared,
You’re more of the same
And not what I crave

Do you remember
The endless conversation
The mutual exchange?

Not a tug of war,
But a graceful ballet

I suppose,
The musical score was too fast
To keep pace

And now we lay,
Broken dancers
In the night

Loved,
Your New Past

I.
I thought you were the one.
I imagined us flying to Manila, meeting the entire family,
you proposing on the pristine sands of Boracay or
in the small village where you used to play with spiders.
I thought of possible baby names pronounced beautifully
in both of our families' native tongues.

II.
We grew together, abandoned defenses until you were my only confidant.
I still haven’t recovered from the way you used that against me:
Sealing my confessions into bullets in a magazine and making sure
I was centered in the crosshairs of the scope,
a different kind of target practice.

III.
You were my special kind of poison, the kind that slipped through my veins
unnoticed until it corrupted my cardiac muscle and collapsed my lungs.
I ate away at myself until I was small enough not to threaten you,
and even that wasn’t enough.
I finally got the courage to leave you, but I formed a thick cocoon
around my chrysalis of secrets to protect myself from you
and the next.

IV.
It’s been two years and I still have you, your mother,
and every Carlsbad or Mira Mesa area code blocked.
You realized you could invade my voicemail so you rang in 2019,
screaming whiskey-soaked wishes for a better year for us both.
I honestly believe you want that, in your own way.
I wish you the best too, but
I have outgrown you.

Well but the universe revolves boringly, in familiar ways.
It seems to be droll, to come to a crawl.
Oh but without the love I feel I would forever bawl!
Let us quickly learn from the past, then set it ablaze.
We should know our mistakes and triumphs, but to dwell on them not for the rest of our days.
Oh but prophetic are the Stories of love to such a doll!
To find this amazing woman amongst the vicious sprawl.
I turn to you and I want you to have my praise.

I am doing the things I know I should
And I know that life brings us down.
But we have built this, to do us both mutual good.
Let us forget the opinions of those saboteurs, those clowns!
For nothing more have I wanted to fight for and having stood
I am glad to have you around, and maybe one day in a Wedding Gown.