Sorta like my detector for love
I guess this is how I really know if I’m into someone
First I start to feel off
The days begin to fade into each other
I don’t know where one starts and begins
I sleep off the confusion only to
Wake up
More lost.
I don’t feel adequate enough for someone
To love me
I’ll give you my all
Rip my heart out
Blood over your hands
Take whatever you want
But I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back

Lying poets, they take their words to street
And sweep their hidden eyes to the pissant stone of curb
And drink in the sound of vehicle
Dreaming to be heard as loudly
But soft
And dreary
As the cloud
that casts its watchful shadow
Over the golden hills at the edge of space
And perpetually disposed themselves
Of any real fluidity

The sun pecks at the skin of the earth, as the waves of heat dance for her
And I become lost in the very essential part of it
That runs across the blades of grass in a quiet park
Where children scream gleefully and rub up against the chain-link
And the dogs empty themselves in feeling

The church bells, a trolleycar, the hobo collecting cans from an oasis of free trash bins
I drink the taste of **** and flower fields in the sweet summer sun

I could not believe what I had begun

The dream of Milton, my friend Kerouac, the Republic
The marble columns on Sansome
They are a treat to my ever-aging eyes
Seeking something in the dirtied troughs of heat
In the summer sun

But when will I be done?

Remember?
The first secret no one knew, but me and you?

Was it secret from Daddy or Mommy?
from boys, or from girls, or the rest of the world?

Did we agree to lie to keep the secret?
Is that how it got sacred?

Do you recall what that secret is?
Is there some rite we must redo?

I look around and think, if life were the secret,
it is leaking.
And I seem to have forgotten what parts were sacred
and what parts are not.

Are you still here? Is this sacred still?

Our secret place, quiet place,
where peace
seeps beneath a sludge of lies,
under which
the hidden source of all we ever hoped
would never
be exposed, lay in secret innocense,
pure as a child's promise,

more precious for its being hidden all these years.

A seed, you said we'd see fruit from
one day.

Wait and see, I heard you say.

But I am blind, or this is night.

...If you like me or not
Your liking won't change me this time.

I've been changed once.
I won't change again
To commit the same crime of loving you
Again

Meeting after long period
Meeting after long absent
She had asked
He had asked
"why did you late?"

She answered
To gather my thought
To feel how I demand
You when you are absent
Or even you are present

He said,'
To see myself
Equal to you to give
The happy you dream and want
As you are the most brilliant
I had ever acquitted

For the millionth time a deep mean gruff voice echoed from within
"I give up on you " not realizing that there is no one left to perceive it other than the forever constant one who loves the most.
She is the one who gives the most of her time to anyone she meets. For she sings in a sanguine silence and talks with a telluring tollence which will never be heard.
Walks and strides all around an'd amidst the crowded streets and lonely roads where she will never be seen.

Ahead the span of ocean waves
Towards me and man at end of day
Behold her secrets in our gaze

Yet no sound but hers escapes