i have this bad case of emotional abuse
honestly, all it does for me is serve to amuse
because have you ever let something so stupid happen?
all you can do is laugh at yourself for allowing it
i am the one hurting myself -
you you you
you've given me a bad case of emotional abuse
(and i let you)

Don’t let him use love as an excuse.
If he can’t love you without your knees on the ground and his hands on your neck,
then he doesn’t get to love you at all.

A conversation**

I want to safety pin
your broken parts on mine
and make a mosaic,
Oh baby, it's only a
matter of time.

You're my captor,
no need to ask;
You have my heart.
Him say  "Do you love me?"
I say "Is the sky blue?"
Baby I suffer chronic
stockholm syndrome
whenever I'm with you.

Gentle Stockholm, in my mind
Tender city with its laid-back ways…
Sun-kissed, snow covered days
A sleepy lover’s eyes along its bays
There I was, a foreigner
Gasping at the breathtaking view
A beauty simple and true
Learning to walk through
Its cobbled streets….
Singing and humming
To its sensual beats…
Like a lover, it strums my body
It’s fingers knowing all the cords
To play……
And I pray,
I swear, I will return
To this unforgettable place…
That has invaded the space
Of my peace
Like its trees…
with leaves of,
Green, yellow and brown
Four seasons of  harmony
Boring holes through my senses…
It’s memory stored through the tenses…
Stockholm in the summer, winter season
Through the autumn’s rise and fall….
flowers bursting in bloom at spring's hall...
Always will I remember it’s
Echo’s call…..
Into my heart….
It will never part…

You broke the chains of
My sorrows…
Lending me the promise
Of many tomorrows,

Stockholm, gentle ,Stockholm
Sing to me your songs of life
Set me free
and make me see,
But never let me be…..

Somebody please tell me why I miss someone who has hurt me so much.
Unforgivably and unlawfully has he treated me – and demolished my life with his icy touch.
So why do I miss him with this ache in my stomach and with tears in my eyes?
O why O why? When he caused my childhood’s demise?

Leaning on the step-brother of an open window
The young marble vase gleamed with sadness:

The drops of the rain filled its heart
With sprinkles of its holy water.

“Do not help me
I was supposed to be filled
With blood.”

Really:

Blood,
   or Flood?
Is it Good?
        Goodbye,
                        then.

And to the thunderstorm outside
The hanging lamps sways

          And laugh:

A tragic suicide of cupped glass and weary light
In their own personal smoky sunset.

        And that is alright.
        At least for them.

What is expected then, from a bottled hope:
If what is taken has leaped in loyalty?

And what is expected from saviors and their teacups
If the one who took away demands harmony?

The three-legged chair hummed quietly
Of the joy it gets when it gets nowhere;

the old table insisted
For it to stay by the open door.

The open door wondered
And the windowed step-brother cursed;

About the vase and the light bulb
Also about the wrinkling crooked chair.

The reasoning behind their dedication:
The light to the lamp
The vase to the blood
And the seat to weary hearts.

Why, do you a—

Ah,
I forgot to get you
The soaked rope
That bonds us together.

All my stress comes out in dreams
And yours' comes out in light.
When at night you hear my screams
Daytime bring the fright.
Anxiety stricken morning kiss
Whispers of times to come,
Your false promise of today's bliss
All of this.... will come undone.

Though I know how each day will end,
Nothing, to you, will ever be wrong.
You still believe and try to pretend
It's all right if you sing God's song.
Our fractured world is on the mend;
This illusion lasts only for so long.
The corner of your smile starts to bend.
And, by then all's gone wrong.

With sharp words comes your battle cry.
I, now, your projected/reflected demon.
With fists and spit, the pain like fire flies.
A confused face searching for reason.
Do I defend; an eye for an eye?
No, I still stand to take what I'm given.
I will tuck you in your bed tonight.
You'll say your prayers, You'll be forgiven.



And I'll be here again and again
To help you fight your demons.

Rest your body
in this cemetery
And in my backpack
You’ll find your soul

One arm on the damp grass
Close your eyes
breathe in the harsh air
Cough
Cigarettes are to blame

Blank tombstones and timeless graves
Carve our names in cursive
Drink in their honor
Rest your head on a tree trunk
Sleep now
A peaceful death

Awoken by the morning mourners
Frozen tears, frozen trees
Stockholm, have we not shivered enough?
Inhale
Heaven on earth
Exhale
Heavenly warmth

Afternoon strolls
The dead crawls
knees dancing
Let’s find shelter
A permanent home
Let’s dig a hole