in that moment
i don’t seem to mind
i can’t seem to breathe
but my lungs were on fire
As you took me by surprise
Our dreams seem to fade behind
through highways we’ve Passed
with the cold breeze on a saturday night
this memory feels vivid, it’s hard to see
that i’m falling and don’t even see it
you’re enjoying, the chase we’ve created
a secret bubble built in hotel rooms
now, i have been able to breathe
when fire left my lungs
more than a year since
-for the ghost of my february Love

Tell me about the Ace of Wands!
Tell me about the Ace of Wands!

This has been poorly imagined I admit:
The sunny penthouse
Open to the breeze
which presses and sways
through the sliding glass doors

Upturned champagne bottles
set in buckets of melting ice
A crystalline view of the Pacific
Or dusky Vegas lights

Strewn silken sheets
A **** carpet you can grab on to
The myriad of variations under a rising Moon

Yet Leather and Ecstasy are no where to be seen.
And though I wasn’t thinking of Sardinia
or of the Amalfi
That is a great idea

ROMP
noun
1. a spell of rough, energetic play.
2. a farce.

Eventually
(An earth-sign cusp is slow no matter how much air)
Eventually
creeping into my mind’s eye
(Thank you Time)
was my dodging of the slow-moving bullet
Alas, the lumpy bed in Hollywood awaits
with serviceable sheets
Encased in variations on a theme of
brown everything
A soul death in faux wood paneling
Someone else’s earring on a
grubby carpet floor
that offers you
burns for your back that won’t heal so fast
if that’s what you want
There’s the opening of the door
on the purring refrigerator
to look at cold nothing
And think nothing
Cystitis is on its way
And yes,
Too much dust

Don’t get me wrong
I have no real issues with dust
I have stood
Alone in the semi darkness before
In such a living room
Staring at this luminous particulate
On album covers
and in the glare of backlit windows
Floating in a beam from
a ceramic thrift store table-lamp

I was on my way to find the bathroom
Where a pair of pink ******* lay
drying
in wait for
me

Bachelor dust
Is old
I can write my name with my finger
in that which rests
upon the turntable’s hinged cover
In case you don’t remember
What they call me

As I’ve said
I’ve got nothing against it
Ask the dust
Go ahead
Ask it
Resting quite comfortably
on the bookshelves
If there are bookshelves
As if it had
something to do.
I ask it why?

my invading molecules subdivide
and grow more comfortable

Dust?
Why do I smell the stench of
chaste virgins and ***?
The intoxicating odor of foxed letters from an epistolary exchange regarding:
One Fair Maiden and the Devilish Pursuits to  Compromise Her Virtue?
The Opinions and Observations of Fallen Fruit
Here: The woman and her only true
possession
And Here: The sticky absconder who smells of fish.
They meet.
She blinks.

The dust replies
It’s a simple plan:
The Dear Lady is to be led
Astray
by pretty words and unspoken indiscretions
her dowry in the end, useless
She’ll be banished to the counties
To be a governess
or the
Bored companion
of the only living relative who will
Admit her services
Unpaid in silver coins
He is Blind and his Cook has left
Dyspeptic
Disagreeable
Cheap
and Mean.

She is Ruined.
Perhaps she will escape
to Italy
and die
Alone
in the sunshine.

The dust tells me another story
The same century still
This time, a miscreant princeling
surrounded by Trifles
Picking up one bob and then another
Preoccupied by uselessness
Perhaps a strawberry
Perhaps more claret and his mistress’s left breast
Tonight will be the scullery maid
Who will lose more in the end
Than she could ever possibly imagine
Tossed out of the kitchens
to Providence.
God bless Her.

The dust tells me
It’s mercantile, my dear
It’s all transactional
But look at me
I’m here for a time but am easily
Agitated and
Airborne
Aeolian driven
Ever blossoming fugitive clouds of swirling devils
Interstellar Reflection Nebulae
As you can see
I’m never in one place
So I say keep it movin’.

When that song comes
I think of you
I think of those green eyes staring right back at me
I know you don’t like it when I talk about your eyes cause I know you want to be known as you and not with those eyes
I know that when you stared at the wall behind me
You think of her
The song was playing and you were thinking of her
And you told me you were sad
I asked why and you didn’t respond
Why did I even ask you that when I know the answer
Maybe this whole thing is an assumption so that I can get you out my mind
This isn’t poetry!
I keep thinking about how distant you got
I don’t want these feelings
I don’t want to care
I hate how much I randomly think of you cause texting you before we slept together was already a habit
A routine that you made me do
But I’m always reminded about what a genuine person you truly are
As the time goes by I’ve been diving into my responsibilities just to get
You
Out
Of
My
System.
This is why I press skip when the song starts playing on my Spotify

I know what caught your eye
Curved hips, dark hair and small dainty eyes
Aren't my eyes really something
You've probably never seen them though
Too busy looking at my chest

I love the way you call me baby
Sounds so sweet in your voice
The same voice you use on those 20 other girls
That's right I know
We all do, you're not really that clever

Well even if you're stupid at least you're cute
That silly smile of yours
And muscles for days
They really make up for the absolute lack of personality
But hey, at least you're a **** empty husk of a man

It's so sweet you're always willing to talk
Staying up late on the phone
Just get's tiresome with you always asking for nudes
I wish someone had taught you basic English
Maybe then you'd understand the word no

Is he a *******
Or is he just sad?
Is he a player?
Or is he just mad?

ayaw niya saiyo kaya tama na
hindi pa ba sapat na ipinagtulakan ka niya?
kahit anong pilit mo hindi ka mapapasakanya
maawa ka naman sa puso **** wasak na wasak na

tigilan mo na ang kahibangan mo
pangarap moy hindi matutupad dahil siyay di para sayo
madudurog at madudurog lamang ang puso mo
sinasabi ko, siya ay para sa iba at hindi sayo

tama na, maawa ka naman sa sarili mo
uulitin ko wala kang mapapala dahil siya ay isang gago
darating din ang tamang lalaki para sayo
malay mo makasungkit ka ng sobrang gwapo

It was almost like you were ripping my heart out for your own pleasure.
You easily reached inside of my chest,
through skin and muscle,
snaking my hand through the cracks in my rib cage
and tested the strong muscle.

You held on and help it beat.
But then you got bored with going with the flow of my heart.
You poked and prodded
to see how much damage you could do.
I let you.

You took the muscle out of my chest
and then went wild to ruin my heart.
You returned it back in pieces.
Carefully,
you set it in my chest.

Now,
I lay in the corner.
Tears stained my soul
but a smile appears on my face
and the words "I'm fine" tumble out of my mouth.

I'm not okay.
I need help.
I don't want to be here.
I want to be in your arms again.
I was fine then.

Scars line my thighs and wrists.
Pill bottles lay inside my sock drawer hiding.
Sleep never comes.
Tears start to stain my face.
"I'm fine"

It's too late now.