see the women who haven’t got a single dollar
their sorry eyes are calm and tired
while forever feelings are being hired
like fortitude and courage
dressed in black sombre slacks
all the ways we lack music
and movement
you become filled
with morose apathy
as urgent gifts of presence
are returned before they're even opened
your two winged democrats (i.e. Bernie Sanders)
are only practice targets for wall street
all the warning signs are slipping away
she prays -- we will still dance in the morning
some day

I don’t think I’m a good influence on you.
I don’t know, I just can’t shake this feeling that
my reckless nature is imprinting on you
and making you do things like walk out in the
rain for hours on end.

And you know, I think maybe you needed some of that?
I think maybe a part of you needed to lighten up like that.
I thought maybe I was good for you like that.
After all, it’s good to be careless sometimes,
good to be free and reckless like me,
good to hold spontaneity alight within you
like a candle in your chest, good even to
walk in the rain alone
without telling anyone.

But not in the dark.
Not for 3 hours. Not
without a raincoat.

Not when you’re sad
and alone
and tired
and your tears mix with the rain
and your brother rides around looking for you for
45 minutes on his bike

and your parents stay by the window
and feel the acid churn in their stomachs
and feel their eyes sting. They don’t
sleep much these days.
Neither do you.

And I know, I know that’s not my fault,
but can’t you see how I’m feeding your desperation?
Don’t you see how ironic it is
that I of all people have been the one
trying to teach you to make your heart a little lighter?

I’m no good for that, I go too far.
My heart is so light it floats away above everyone’s heads
and I go and do things I shouldn’t do
just to try to root it back to me.
I don’t think I’m a good influence on you.

This affliction,
my enemy,
Vast pain,
Frosty end for me,
Agony undying truth,
Something incurable,
The undying hope
Something durable.

My loved ones,
Notice I'm weak,
She will notice
I'm brittle,
True love I seek,
My strength, very little.

Torn between truth,
Not the athlete from youth,
Working hour after hour,
Crippled my body,
A fragile skeleton,
I embody.

My grandkids,
Inspired,
Regardless if grandpa,
Retired,
Cherishing moments,
In life,
I'll wisp away,
Still my wife.

Goodbye,
Beautiful queen,
I've loved you,
Since I was eighteen.

As you breath,
With trapped lungs,
Like a fly caught,
In the silkiest of webs.
Her manifold shell,
Multiple eyes of harrowing,
A succubus to the harmless,
dampening a gentle candle lit,
In sheer darkness.

******* on our blood,
Like a hundred leaches,
Her nature thicker than mud.
Fluid runs smooth,
like ash and water,
but she stains your heart,
in gray poisonous matter,
Using you like puppet on strings,
from the very start.

She hides behind the lies,
That she fills within your head,
like a hot air balloon,
soaring through skies,
Unaware of what's below,
Avoid prickly skinned women,
They'll eat you alive.