Help yourself
to the words we left out
in this sunburnt tree
we call them a well turned phrase
because tree corpse
makes books feel macabre
and we love books
like we love words
like we love giving trees
hugs to release oxytocin
but none of this will help you read
between the lines of your unease
so do not look for help
between murderous sheets
self-help is called living
It doesn’t come from a book
and yes I’m aware of the irony
of writing that in a book of poetry
so
help yourself
to these burnt out words
and please
stop cutting down dreams

We would be in the city of poets
and I'd write my touch on your skin
we may or may not have been on dinner dates
but surely we'd have all 3 meals together
you'd love the poetry I write
and I'd love the miracles of my talent
we'd read the same books
and study together
despite you studying anthro
and me science
but I am sure we'd find some common classes too
or the small gap between them
I'd sneak you into my dorm with my hoodie
or we'd drive off into our forever
one that we dreamed off
one that was a choice
one that you never chose

or maybe not
maybe

We'd be in the city of lights
the city that never sleeps
and I'd pick you up every other morning
and we'd have breakfast at espresso
or we'd sit in my car and have what your mom makes
we may or may not be going to the same college
but that wouldn't stop us from reading the same books
or going to food & book festivals
maybe even debating together in the same tournaments
your mom would have a face to my name
and mine would know who "all this" is about
we would fight but trust me
a kiss would more than suffice
and I'd sneak you out at 2 am
and we'd drive off to a now then
a now with peace & love
a now with your favorite music
a now that you never chose to be

but maybe
just maybe
either way

we'd both be left with a place
we could call home

Lovers Lane is a dead-end road
She’s got a name like heaven
An angel on an Ouija board
She’s a diamond in the sky

wind knocked on my window
like a traveler who overslept
he wanted to catch up
and asked about you
i gave him your number
i hope you don't mind..?
...
/M.A./

With a name like Ruth
You know she’s a babe
Kickstart her heart
And she’ll tear you apart

Old in spirit
Young in body
***** and dusty
A compact, unclean model

Buzz-box motor
Straight down a highway
She’s got sixty horse power
She’s bucking bronco wild

Guzzling gasoline
Rocks out to old school rock’n’roll
She’s a Saturday night special
With a hippie ***** stamp

Jealousy rips up the road
And now I’m in a rage
But it ain’t her fault
I’m just materialistic

Miniature but mighty,
I don’t take her lightly
And I don’t know if it’s likely,
But I want that Ruthie to be mine

Down these roads I go..
Part of my heaven I suppose..
To destination no where..
Forever on these roads to elsewhere..
Ill stop here and there..
And meet people everywhere..
Small towns for my dreams to remember..
When I sleep without surrender..
Away from the sun I drive..
And into the night I dive..
Under stars that remember me..
With music to keep me company...

Don't be afraid of changing,
sometimes the best breaks are taken in the middle of the road,
they can spontaneous and unplanned, but quite needed.