So we met for the first time at least one hundred times now. What are we supposed to do; fall in love? You fell in my pool and I fell in your pool and we're drowning. Death due us part: exactly! You can never take this love home, baby. There is always way too many issues and way too many tissues that are involved. Loving you feels like ants crawling in my veins, taunting me with the sting. Loving you feels like sitting under a grey cloud, dry. Love between us is working but it's lurking to make a change that will never let us take it home and settle. What if we take it home and it works you ask.. Little task, we just love. One of us dies first, probably you cause I'm aware. Then I'm alone, no clone, and there is no love for me to share. I spent half my life loving one person so much that I risked everything and ignored everyone just to bring it home; now you're dead. Who do I have? Love is a selfish, little lust if you ask me. Good luck bringing your love home. Good luck being immortal, you'll need it.

It seems you've replaced my shadow with yourself. You eat on what I ate on ignoring what's good for your health. I'm walking around these empty streets with a plan cause I can and you pace around these streets trying to act like a leech and mooch off anything with feet. You don't know your ethnicity so you take mine in hand. Yeah I'm Irish. I'm about to take an Irish **** on you, you pilot fish. Yeah I said it.  "Who am I? What do I do?" You make me sick man. What are you going to do: live for yourself or end up in a ******* fish can. There was always something fishy about you. You linger and you're always pointing fingers like you know what you're saying. You don't even know your own shoe size because you try to walk around like me. Try to talk around like me. Try to shock the town like me. But believe me I'm no **** eel. You reel what I reel because you aren't real yourself. Stop walking in my foot steps. Stop jumping on my back. All I want is my shadow back. ****.

Do not stand at my grave and weep..
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry..
I am not there. I did not die.

if you talk a little louder
and hold on a little tighter
and focus on the smell
of the ****** soap from the
girls' bathroom at school
that lingers on my hands
even after showers
maybe you won't notice
that the girl in your hands
has been a corpse
for quite some time.

Do you remember the first time we kissed?
I do.
It was quiet extraordinary,
the way we fell right into each others arms.

The girl with no hope,
and the boy with no faith,
tangled into each others lives.

There's not a day that goes by where I am not thinking about you.
Not a single day.

I can spend hours thinking about you,
your face.
You are so beautiful.
Everything about you radiates beauty.
From your innocent little toes,
to your smooth, soft hands,
to your cute little nose.

I try not to think of what life would be without you,
but sometimes I can't help it,
and the the thought slips into my head.
I feel my heart sink,
my body becomes numb,
as I fall into the abyss.

I want to be with you,
forever.
From now,
till the end of time.

And I promise I will always love you,
if you promise too.

Because I want my last kiss,
to be with you.

do you think butterflies
are nostalgic
about when they were
caterpillars?
did they have
hey arnold
and recess?
did they play dodge-ball in the morning mud?
Did they stay up late as cocoons
procrastinating
and worrying if they would become
successful butterflies?
and did they spend their days as caterpillars
wanting to be butterflies

What makes it so easy
to write personal works
from the heart,
the soul,
the inner workings of my mind
that then you, strangers,
read at your own will,
like, and comment?
Things I cannot even bring myself
to admit to those closest to me
or even yours truly.
The fact baffles me each time
I start typing.

Ingénue, Ingénue
mellifluous intonation;
within my ear
intangible embrocation!

Emollient to my inure
lithe and lilt affections-
A panacea, a talisman
fetching provocation.

Ingénue, Ingénue
Why must you fall
into such fugacious
dalliances?

Becoming and comely
are you
The cynosure of men
dissembling by demure

Ingénue, Ingénue
how easily I imbue
sempiternal scintilla
into naive little you

Lo, during my brooding-
arrive in halcyon gambol,
Dulcet or Saccharine
Is it me or you?

Ingénue, oh Ingénue
an epiphany, so true
a furtive labyrinthine
past the offing of you

None so opulent
cast more than penumbra.
T'would simply be Pyrrhic
to go on, continue.