White bigwig owns a black oil rig
Sleeps like a sloth and eats like a pig
For gold will he drill, for gold does he dig
He maps out the world by the gold it can give

I hope she fits in the spaces you spent so much time putting between us.
I hope her lips taste like candy and they replace to addiction to cigarettes.
I hope she pulls out the best in you even when you feel like the devil himself.
I hope that you don't say the same things to her you said to me.
I hope you love her a little less than you did with me.

When did poems begin to start with
I
When did
I
Become the beginning and the end
I
It calls and woos and beckons like no
You
Could do. The lights dim in
You
And a mirror becomes the inspiration for
I
The winds that carried these words to
You
Now swirl and suffocate, declaring and blaring that
I
Am strong, am somehow alive and
I
Is as far as the mind can see, but
I
Might be the end of
We

Some days you have the ability,
others on a shopping spree.
Dressing clean, ultra supreme.

To live is just a dream that only you can see with binoculars.
I live in our own aura, the World and I. Where we can kickback, sleek the ruffles out of our curtains.
With blood sleeking down the glass window pane, the beginning of a crystal clear scheme
with crimson stains.
A passing by expert, I have yet to earn what removed hastes to which I should come to a slower pace.
Push you into my fool, a clown to a stalemate.
Copping everything on a shopping spree, my feet don’t touch the ground, they elevate.

Now I’m trying to jam using these hands, but one grips at fear.
I don’t have time for tainted misused feelings.

I have to make them squeal for me. Hide in the bushes, they want to be seen with me. Using correct of muscle, I hold me. Carrying all these packages, I’m the one you want.

curtains closed, I sit in darkness
as I wait for you
if you don't return,
I will have spoken to no one all day

full of graceful accomplishments,
my river still runs dry
with the thought of sleeping alone
and waking with surprise
at the empty sheets next to me

every time, I sigh
and I hold back the urge to cry impulsively
distraught over a broken nail
as husbands die of cancer
in the hospital down the street

oh, how I'd cry then,
if it were you dying,
but you're just simply gone -
off to work, doing your duties

as I wait in the darkness,
and I think of you
please don't stay at your mother's tonight
I promise,
your little brother will be just fine

You take
everything,
everything that was mine,
everything that you pretended was yours,
everything except responsibility for yourself.

It was selfish of her
To leave.
She needed the change;
Had to move,
Having been stuck so long
She felt suppressed,
And so depressed.
She just needed to leave,
But where could she start?

He was easiest to leave,
The most convenient to cut off;
He didn't hold on,
He didn't even try.
She didn't know,
Was she angry
That it was easy for her to leave?
Or that he didn't even try to stop it?

But she had to leave,
The reasons didn't matter,
The semantics were moot,
Whether he wanted her to,
Or he didn't--
Whether she wanted to,
Or she didn't want him to let her;
Nothing mattered.

It was truly selfish of her
To leave.
She had to fly
And he made it easy for her
To leave him behind...