We're squeezed in a topsy-turvy
*****-ball world;
What's upside is down,
What's inside is out;
Your smile's a frown,
Your whisper's a shout,
And the flim-flam man
Just pitched a curve.
We're headed to second
After rounding third,
And first is stolen;
This game's absurd.
So, I gather up my bat and ball,
I've read the writing on the wall,
I've turned, running for home.
We've been tagged on bad calls.
We were safe, but now we're out,
Exiled, banished, conflicted, confused,
There's nothing good on the news.
The umps and refs have all been turned,
We've been benched,
We've been spurned.
Behind me,
Someone calls out,
     *Play Ball;

A rose by any other name
Is still a rose, if you play its game
But if you don't (and now you won't),
Any flower is but the same.

If I sleep, breathe, feed
One thing & one thing only
Is that called dedication
Or just a bad possessed need

Either way isn't it a sheer blessing  
To serve a purpose, a deed
Finally you get a seat at the table
But the hunger is now just greed

Greed is pure, greed makes you win
Don't be fooled otherwise by the sheep
Frolicking away is the real true sin
Anyhow, galaxy will drown you deep

That's when you must hold onto the deed
Jaw deep into the gutter, now you see
Even when you spend your life in pure greed
It won't be enough until you learn to let it be

me ignoring you
    ignoring me.

     /#dmperez

At night, after having paid
Money coins we just had made,
We enter the gates of fun;
Playing games of the arcade.

We're covered under neon,
Until the bright times of dawn,
Surrounded by beeps and peeps,
Playing games of the arcade.

How beautiful is this night!
Where each thing glitters at sight,
Fueled by the gushing coins while
Playing games of the arcade.

Sink or swim.
Time is thin.
Months to go.
I can't breathe in.

In you weave.
Secret steps.
Holding close.
Your deep regrets.

***** in my court?
That's all you can say.

Boy's games are child's play.

They think they're cunning.
They believe they're smart.
But they **** with poets.
They play with art.

Girls you see,
We play for keeps.
Russian Roulette.
Close your eyes... go to sleep.

I watched her play with a knife last night.
It twirled beneath her fingers,
letting the moonlight glint off of the metal devilishly.
It seemed tempting.
Something so elegant couldn't possibly cause such desperate violence.
Something so refined couldn't possibly cause such dreadful wreckage.

I watched her play with a knife last night.
It tapped upon her desk,
creating invisible scars that cut deeper into the wood each week.
It seemed ridiculous.
She could simply put down the knife and she wouldn't be in pain.
She could simply put down the knife and her scars could heal.

I picked up the knife last night.
It darted between my fingers,
daringly darting and narrowly missing the edges of my skin.
If I slipped, I could be just as scarred as she is.
If I slipped, I could finally feel something other than fear.

Oops.

So much choice
So much time
So many miles apart
So much non-commitment.
Anxious and dysfunctional.
A side-ways game
Of friendship cover-ups.
Keeping your options open,
Playing your cards close.
Thinking I can't see your moves,
As you pull back and forth,
Hot and cold.
Then assuming what you will
About my words and indiscretions.
And all the insecurities
Triggering your actions
Are my fault.
I left you unable to judge
My heart and soul.
I left you unable to identify
My purity of intent.
I left you questioning
My cards.
And you failed to ask,
Because your ego chains you with fear.
So we’ll lose at this.
Two disappointed hearts.