You're like my little bird,
Fragile and precious,
You are delicate and beautiful,
Your voice is a beautiful symphony.

But you are easily flown away by the wind,
Being so little in this vast world,
You are easily hunted down by merciless predators,
Being so weak and feeble.

Always, I'm frightened by the thought,
That I would someday lose you,
To worse,
To death.

I promise to care for you,
But am unsure if i could keep it,
For I don't know how,
Being awkward and new to this.

This feeling is raw and weird,
Words I know can't explain it,
You are fragile to me;
Your name could shatter at the very mention.

It will not be easy,
This task of protecting you and defending,
But know that I will go to any measure,
To keep my precious one from harm.

Hello operator, won’t you lend me an ear?
It seems my days have grown dark and
Daylight no longer suits me, it causes me to faint.
One step out my door and my body seems to shake.
I trek to the store by myself, all the while ever shaking;
I tremble, I stagger, I stumble about.
The world knocks me  over in it’s. gusty. sighing.
I tremble. I stagger. I stumble all about.
I feel too unreal to be awake.
I must be walking on clumsy dream clouds and dancing with queens, they’re cackling cackling cackling.
Elegant gowns and mad-possessed crowns, they’ve invited me to the moon.
I open my eyes and
I tremble. I stagger. I stumble
back home
to wait
for my date
with Night.
The stars will be our only entourage ‘til dawn.

Shy
My words and abillites locked away
For no one to see because thats just
Me...

I sat there and thought
I was rooted to the spot
Thinking in what ifs

If I was not there
Would anyone care
If I did not show

And I concluded
That none of them ever would
Then began to smile

I went through the day
Thinking, Smiling, about that
Until I saw her

I owed her a gift
An old promise to fulfill
And then I ran off

For I knew well, that
Should I look her in the eye
My smile would just break

For I knew the look
That I would receive from her
Of fear and worry

As she could see me
And what I truly think of
For she has seen it

Reflected on her
And that night I felt my life fade
For I had done it

I had made me fade
But a bright light, a siren
I pictured her face

And then I woke up
Sprawled in a bed, but not mine
The wound stitched shut

And again I thought
Of what she may do, Should she
Not see me again

For, she may notice
If I was never again,
To give her a hug

rusty pistons fire
incongruously
in the beat down machine,
coughing up smoke;
makes it hard to breathe

corruption in the break lines,
can't stop the roll

disco jungle funk, dancing
gears, grind and whine
stirring up a
grease monkeys dream,
caress and careen,
danger in the evening
sparks and lust teeming
hot water turbine, spinning,
steaming

*** called the kettle black,
lost reverse,
and no way back

Dog days fly dust to dust over a hick
pit sardined between corona bikinis that house
the unmistakable stench of lukewarm apple
sauce in the c-cup padding and toothless
******* sitting indian style. Graveled friction
fading the back pockets of their overall
dungarees. Amongst them a settler on their native
turf accepting a Jim Beam peace pipe while above
the influence commercials march in protest claiming fried
egg consequences from engaging in the act. The culture
shock is worth the weekly once-in-a-lifetime chance
to sip the tabasco-glazed opening of my chemistry
teacher’s flask while he schools me in perfecting
the cotton eyed joe. A muffler spontaneously
combusts, melting the raybans off the face of a tragically
hip spectator taunted with “that’s why dad named you Joe Dirt.”

she

was afraid of
His touch


fearing

it would send her


into



the *******
of the universe

"your life is one epic poem and
if you fail to turn blood into words,
you'd look back and see yourself  
an anthology of unwritten poems."