I’ll do you like your
Eyes
Ask me to,
As relentlessly
As your
Smile’d
Wish, come every our
Encounter.

I’ll do you, like the –
Plastic, porcelain, and
Polymer
Scenery –
Holography and
Hidden drawers,
Once a sin and
Twice a cross.

I’ll do you, as
I’m, and a first,
If only an
“Object.”
I know it, but you don’t.
You love it, but I won’t,
Because you’d only burn,
Come knowing I’m, “taken.”

My dearest.
Words cannot describe how much I long to be in your embrace.
Your warmth that envelops me
And your softness.

Your tantalizing smell of clean laundry
And painted wood.
Your caress engulfs me,
Filling my dreams with peace.

I hate when I have to kiss you goodbye in the mornings
Walking out the door
With a final longing gaze at your beauty and snugness

But I can remember that you are always waiting for me
When I walk into the room
And dive into the warmth of the covers
And return to you
My bed

Our souvenirs.
In a little box I've stowed—
a secluded veneer.
A lot of times you bestowed
The prettiest things.
A deck of just kings,
Lilac seeds.
An anklet
not a ring
with rolled paper
as beads.
A painted sycamore tree
and a carved partridge.
A butterfly, unfree
and a rusty London bridge.
Many more, I have burnt
A simple jewelry box,
a medical syringe.
A vintage, whimsical clock,
ripped pages, a stockage.
But this last one, I gave away
It wasn't mine for a keepsake.
The most special,
an epilogue; crucial—
the last smiling
photograph of us.
the last reeling
scene of us.
It was candid
it was real.
But look at what you've done.
Look at how all these objects—
merely flashes and ashes—
are perpetually gone.
Look at how you never
talked about leaving
but did anyway.

You say you want a woman
Yet you seem to want less,
A female who seeks attention
Through her flawless appearance.
A picture you like
Based on her womanly assets
Baby this image is imperfect
You can't see your flawed mindset.
You want a woman who loves herself
Yet has no self respect
I don't understand your logic
It sounds like you want an object.

Twisted water
gives labels
                           of light

Black          Flat

Swaying walls take flight:

Stone upon Stone upon Stone
Trees

never seen to dance dance
till quarter to me
Yesterday still

it seems

I keep little things
Close at hand.
I keep them to remind myself
that this darkness is temporary
that things will get better.
Little notes written by a friend
something as simple as
"I love you"
or "keep your head up"
I keep fortunes
with quotes I admire
quotes that remind me
that it's okay to not be okay
that it's ok to fall apart,
but only if you're strong enough
to put yourself back together.
I keep little things like ticket stubs
reminders of dates long past.
I keep these things to remember
but also to help myself forget,
Forget my sadness for a while.

You confuse me to no end,
Play games with my mind.
Yet I can never say no to you,
I always think we're fine.
It all started with a knock on the door,
Do you see why I have trust issues?
You're rude, degrading, and constantly make me feel like ****.
But all I want is to believe that you care,
That there's a friendship there.
I get it, we're friends, I don't want anything more either,
But it feels like you're on a quest to hook up with my friends,
And that you only want me when you're bored.
It's like I put you on this pedestal,
Because all I wanted was to feel something.
But you just make me feel like ****.
I feel like an object to you,
Like I'm nothing more than a piece of paper.
So why do I keep crawling back?
Why do I always say yes?
It's like I can't say no to you.
You've built property and you're here to stay.
I'm never kidding when I say you can leave,
And when I confront you, you blow it off.
So what the **** do you want from me?
Because I just want your honesty.

At first I thought it was a mini book,
but the moment I picked it up…

No, just a piece of art.
Just art?

Still important, yes,
but what could
"Very Different Animals"
by Frank Sherlock
be about?

I was to find out,
clips removed
and awe regained -
What a surprise!
What lines!
                     "Refigure
                      a strand of DNA
                      & you might
                      understand Me & I
                      are very different animals"
Suddenly my respect
for this art piece is
elevated.

I picked the Best object
I want it, want to keep it
a 5 minute free write
is not enough to describe this.

I scar words
and the meaning
is gone,
I always need
more time with words
                                        "What
                                          is the nature of this
                                          nature?"

I scan quick
for lines I could recycle
lines I could hold on to
I'm always grasping
for words,
that's what we writers do.
I skim the pages
and then
it all starts to feel like its all nonsense,
writing is funny that way
and if I only had more
time to read
[there will be time,
there will be time]
there's never enough time.