I’ll take the honey over vinegar
Why shake it when you can stir

Ain’t nothing in this life for free
But I beg your differ, pardon me

If I Could just steal a quick second of your time
A Nonverbal marathon, leaves a panting mime

We may land the chance, we may cheat fate
Take my hand, let’s dance and eat, it’s a date

But with a perfect first night, so very complete
How can any other time even dare to compete

We all just need a little great company to
borrow....
Starting a meetup group for procrastinators tomorrow.....

I kiss your toes one by one
and wipe your feet like the face of a new born babe,
in the hope that they may trample me lighter.

A few nights before Christmas, all family was down
With friends of their own from a way far off town

My sister and I were upstairs in the den
Hanging and chillin with my cousin's best friend

She fell asleep fast, laid out on the floor
So we got up and tiptoed out the porch door

We talked for a while about this and that
Then decided to return and also 'lay flat'

We spoke in hushed tones and he seemed rather eager
'Why not' I thought knowing first times can be meager

In fact it's quite perfect for in days he'll be gone
And all of this awkward wont linger for long

We were very quiet as things got quite heated
And in a few moments we'd both be depleted

But not before my sister sat up in her feelings
And sleepily said "I hate falling off of tall buildings"

She laid back down, having never opened her eyes
And continued to sleep straight through to sunrise

Years later we spoke of that night in my prime
To which she replied "I was awake the whole time"

That awkward I spoke of that was not meant to linger
It turned right around and gave me the finger

The fish bakes
in the sweltering heat of the sun
Its prison
a plastic tupperware container
three feet from the water.
It's jaws SNAP open
and shut as it gasps for air,
struggling
against death.
It's dying
baking
smell
lingers
over to me
as I sit and stare
while eating my
juicy green apple
I packed as a snack

I was ******* poetry
Right out of the womb
Now I am ******* poetry
On the way to my tomb

One you escape from
One you do not
Life is a dead end
Suicide is a hope

Walking along dead end streets
Losing memories and endless sleep
Running away from fears unknown
******* away moments, a life stolen

so shall these next eight lines
serve as certain and conclusive evidence
that poetry
(this kind of poetry)
is as elementary
as touching a key
that takes your illusory fountain pen
from one written line
to another