It's funny, y'know?
every guy
dreams of
a girl
around eighteen or so
wide hips
a tight ***
firm *******
flawless skin
perfect hair
kissable lips
and eyes you could drown in
then a guy meets one of these
magazine girls
and she tells him
she wants nothing to do with him
at which point
she changes in the blink of an eye
from an image of divine perfection
into just another
******* ******* ****
it's funny how that works out

You measure in
vast spaces that my memory fills
Revolving.
I take you where
you thought before you might
get left behind.

Instead
Our Love is
sly references
to Private Jokes and
how your eyes light up
as you twirl around inside
your favorite Polka Dot Dress.
Knowing
“That’s when I think you look your best.”

With Egyptian eyeliner
to illuminate the understatement.

Kudos.
Deserved,
after all you do accept
(Not without forgiving humour...)
A latent tendency in myself
to elongate an awkward silence
after committing whichever topical
and firmly established social faux pas
given the setting.

Not forgetting,
my oft lauded lack of a certain finesse
Establishes
around my name a peculiar sentiment
Windswept spiky hair and caught-out schoolboy face
Notwithstanding.

Perhaps,
“it’s clever not to deny the girl”
her entertainment.

For the one-night stand I have never had and the
Future I'll gladly take like a powder
In a nine dollar drink
On the rocks.

Bartender.

He wanted to write
as a way of expression
and rejection
a stage to vent
everything which threatened
his tranquil, lazy life,
he was fine going unknown,
hungry,
broke,
broken,
a man watching from the shadows
looking for somebody worthwhile
somebody he could talk to
and enjoy looking at
maybe he was unrealistic
maybe was one huge *******,
a typical womanizer,
just another guy,
but he wanted to write,
he wanted to write about her

She walked in from the street
windswept,
she had come close to breaking
everything in the outside
weighing down upon her
with every passing second
expectations
clashing
with reality
leaving her cracked
and those cracks told her story
with no falsity
it was plain and simple
and he traced the cracks
with his own yellowed fingers
smiling at her
enjoying the tale
enjoying her
not wanting to save her
or fix her
just wanting to keep her
keep her
as she is

If hell is engulfed in fire
as bright as the sun,
And heaven is lit
by a divine light,
Then I shall die with sunglasses.

Some things in life are free, some things will take a banana from your chest drawers.
However many miles a road is that men walk down must,
at the end I hope there is a crew of construction workers
that all they really need is ice cream with chocolate syrup, all they’ve ever needed.  
They realize the waves of sound in the air are made out of ice cream
and the swinging of their arm splays out chocolate syrup like rainbows.  
This would happen in the latent way that apples happen, sprouting slowly from the root
and the secret’s on the inside blooming with a star
but meanwhile forming a hide that’s either crisp or chewy.

Biting down on air is a maddening sensation
and the upper and lower jaw blame each other;
contact every time is a betrayal.
They have no one else to blame but whom they meet on the other side of the empty room.
My jaw speaks and clicks in jerks. I do not understand but it is ok.
I like to be a woman of mystery.
I like to be a woman of mystery even when I can’t understand myself;
it is ok.