I wait for the crashing fight.
for the tire screech,
the door slam-
for the lava words
that roll magnificent red from my tongue
and slowly drip ashen black onto the wooden floor between us.
I wait for the broken flute,
tiny bubbles, tiny dreams-
all absorbed by Berber Carpet
and mailbox stuffed
with molehills of mountains.
I wait for the heaving pressures
that blow things upwards,
that blow things inwards.
That makes canyons
and mushrooms
I wait for the fury that turns my eyes
cast with doubt, cast with coal dust.
my lungs puffed with indignation-
so little room to breathe
that I am high from venom.
I wait for the disgust to
wrap around me like a Sunday School wrap-skirt
colorful and gay,
and dropped to the floor without
consideration.
I wait for the hate to be early.
with hope already so foolishly spent on each other,
with faith so carelessly blown away
riding in invisible
paper airplanes-
such are the kisses sent across busy roads.
Waste, waste all these desires of the mundane
when lust drives
outside forces divide,
heat and sinner unite us
and I wait,
I do.

I wait for it to pass.
So as to get to the stuff a day beyond the splintered wood
past the love,
past the lush.
past the lace on my forehead.
I wait for it all to past so as to get myself wholly to you.
For it is not the very last of days
I wait to spend with you,
It is the very all of days I wait to spend with you.


Sahn 3/16/15

The clock ticks while your once soft tight skin sags around the corners of your mouth.
The smooth feeling of your forehead now aligned with the signature of age.
My eyes stay fixed with your lovely brown as you grey.
I will always love you.

Atop the Ferris wheel I noticed; my fearlessness was fading.

Growing up is not growing old,
It's unbelieving all you are told.
Unbuying lies you've been sold,
Breaking down your social mould.
You must stray far from the fold,
To let your mind be uncontrolled.
Growing up, is growing bold,
Do it quick before you're old.

The world was not what he knew no more
The reflections had betrayed him
All the pains were coming back
Inhibiting
Slowly
Reality sunk back in
Heavy and suffocating
Shackling

The music's changed
The party is still going on
Full of people he didn't recognise
Is he still a part of it?
Is he still invited?
What does it matter?
Everything
To him
Everything he knew of
Almost
And what it took to run was a blink away

Alas that unwanted love has gone!
Drowning in the sorrows past-
Curse the night, with its shining terror;
And haunt thy lovers new.
Avail me, pray me as none other woman.
Give me love as a farm girl does to her knight.
For there will me no fortress to smuggle your screams,
Nor will there be a hostess beneath your arm.
My beauty stands waylaid;
And my chest longing for your skin.
Come! Come! Now and again, until you grow old and I, tame.