Mountains of pillows,
Soft sheets,
and warm covers,
couldn't bring you into my arms.

Wrinkles and sunken silhouettes,
remind me of what we once had.
Now you only **** me
when the calories and lust hit your gut.

I hate sleeping alone,
you won't help me resolve the issues
that block my way to you.
What we once had.

Washing machines drain the fabric of you
in every cycle
One more day my body forget the tenderness of you
and your loving arms.

Je sais que tu ne peux toujours
pas m'oublier, comme ta belle histoire.
Tu ne peux pas oublier mon nom
non plus, c'est comme chuchoter "bonsoir".
Je veux oublier comment tu prononces
mon nom, mais je n'arrive pas à me souvenir
d'admettre que tu l'as dit le mieux.
Peut-être que je le ferais enfin si seulement
tu me disais aussi s'il y a quelqu'un qui
pourrait t'embrasser mieux que moi.
Même si mes amis me coupaient
la tête parce que je pense encore
à toi dix mois plus ****,
même si le monde entier
me faisait un procès parce
que je continue à essayer
d'écrire sur toi après un an,
je me brosserais les cheveux,
remonte mes seins,
je mettrais mon trousseau,
réparer ma jupe
je me tiendrais devant une vitre et je dirais:
"Qu'ils mangent du brioche!"
mais pas après que tu aies
encore goûté à mon gâteau.
Mais pas après que tu aies
encore goûté à mon gâteau,
encore et encore...

He sleeps
I want to stay mad
I really really want to stay mad
I don't want that as much as I want to fill out my kids' emergency medical forms for school
Or as much as I want to throw away the trash from the counter
Or as much as I want to pace the kitchen floor for an hour.
Or as much as I want to lay down my arms and tell him the truth of what hurts.
Or as much as I want him.
But he wants sleep.
Seems reasonable enough.
I want sleep.

The fight of the mind twisting and turning,
tortured; I am learning,
my mind and soul conflict.

desire enlarges,
but duty surpasses,
action thus constricts.

Dreams or delusions?
Passion or fusion?
Which am I to pick?

Where can I go?
to see this through,
and become the one who I seek?

To write what you live
and live what you write
is not a success at all..

It is a spiraling down--  
away from this world
and always always
in  to bitterness.

Most who have done this
have slipped away
in to  alcoholism..    
   or  eased back
with the weight of their bodies--
   tightening the noose;
They gladly  gladly  gladly    
leave the pain  of the gap

of every single part
of having to live here
In a world full of souls;

hell-bent on marketing,
    and presentation.


..But guess what,
my beautiful Lovesweet:

To  not  live what you write out
(just another form of creative marketing)
puts your head in the noose also
So either way,  you're ******

God bless the ones that can see this..
yet, still leave their mark..

    and then die,  
    with both middle fingers
    fully extended

this is how it works
you're young until you're not
you love until you don't
you try until you can't
you laugh until you cry
you cry until you laugh
and everyone must breathe
until their dying breath

now this is how it works
you peer inside yourself
you take the things you like
and try to love the things you took
and then you take that love you made
and stick it into some
someone else's heart
pumping someone else's blood
and walking arm in arm
you hope it don't get harmed
but even if it does
you'll just do it all again