Frown because no one is around
Cry because no one can hear your
Sobs
Scream as loud so the birds can hear

But remember take a peek
See if anyone heard
If someone did
Run

you can throw things far away
but your DNA
you cannot hide

Well
I accepted for the sake of your exams,
That i am a bad human,
A fake human,
One into emotional drama,
One who's life is fake..  Fake.. And fake..

Fake fake fake and fake...
Your lover did use this word so easily,
I still feel the cuts in me..

I accept what i am not for you Oh best friend,
I accepted the fakeness... And did put it to the end..
Am just so free,  for everybody...


I remember my words...
I won't ever talk to you,
Oh best friend...
I can't put into words how much it hurts,
Am sorry that i was so " fake"....
I never knew I was..
Don't Know why does she think so....


You are my support..
And look,  we are never going to talk to each other...
Well you have your support...
But what about mine?
I feel so Terrible about myself..
I feel like dying...

Oh best friend, am such a useless best friend,
Who's phone number is not even worth trying..

You have done bundles of favors for me,
But your girl has always left me crying...

Just one wish from you oh friend,
Kiss the forehead of my corpse,
The day i be dead...

And whisper what had been my fault in my ear...
Oh friend so dear....

I'm the monster clawing at the walls.
You gave me the taste for your blood and then locked me in here.
Your scent stains every surface in the room;
Tantalising but with no flesh to sink my fangs into.
Rabid dog-type wildness becomes me,
Transforms me into a thing driven by madness and instinct.
You are the prey with footprints but no body.
I am the predator never knowing satiety.
Pacing replaces hunting, I'm starving,
And your constant, elusive presence has me frenzied.
Viscera begin to litter the room.
Yours or mine? I don't know. I'm starving.

Into the Zambian Amythist
I glare,
with
pale blue eyes
And watch him
fall,
all around me
Pieces of nothing,
in purple thoughts
Sounds of imagined whispers,
trapped in quartz shimmers
in a
dusk,
never dreamt
Some lover
imagined,
never held,
Pieces of nothing,
in purple thoughts.....

he sits on the curb
all twelve years of him,
waiting to be a teen

when he'll have to pay
adult price for a movie ticket
or bus pass

he usually has no cash
for either; but wishing and waiting
are art forms to him

he's learned to move
the brush of time slowly on life's palette
while he watches others whizzing by

on their store-bought skateboards
and Huffy ten speed bikes, while he has
only one gear for two feet

which now are clad in Keds
from the thrift store, and planted
firmly on the cement

by the drain gutter,  where he
last saw his favorite possession, a Super Ball,
get ****** into the sewer

when the storm ended, he yanked
off the manhole cover and crawled into
the dark, but the ball was gone forever

when he came back into the street,
yet lamenting his round loss, more boys
on bikes buzzed by

their circles safely spinning
on asphalt, far from the gutter and curb where
he once again sat--wishing, waiting

Baltimore, 1965

Flabber-me -ghasted
and spelling mistakes
go to make up
one hell-uv-a-day.