There's a little
boy that hides in
the dark corners of
my soul.
He doesn't want to
be hurt anymore.
I spent eight years
with Beth.
For the most part,
it was hell and
constant pain.
She made nightmares
look good.
I heard the
little boy cry
late into the
silky night,
while snails got
smashed on the streets
of Ventura.

When I drank, which was often,
the little boy seemed
at peace for awhile,
while swans were
murdered in Venice,
and I tasted the ashes
of Neruda.
Years flew by
like seagulls;
up
down
and darting.
The little boy
continued to
hide in the
dark corners of my soul.

He wanted to
come out and be loved.
He was thirsty for it,
but there wasn't
any around.
It was dry, like the
deserts in hell.
It's too late for
sorries, here comes
the plow.

He began to see
the pattern of life.
There are monsters
that walk in the light.
Vulnerability equals pain.
The little boy got mean.
And now he carries
a knife.

My heart can not speak...
But it does whisper...
It whispers through my eyes...
My eyes become brighter when you are near...
It whispers through my hands...
For  my hands can write poetry when I think of you...
They seem to move by themselves...
But I really believe it is my heart controlling them...
My heart wants to whisper and to write sweet words for you...
If you listen quietly...
You can hear the whispers...
It is whispering the words...
"I love you, you are my reason to live and I adore you.."

perhaps we are really
only jagged landscapes
mired in pain
disclosing our truths
inside the caverns
of written words

It is ever-breaking fragile pain,
Thinly-strung lightning-flames.

It is stressing, tense, and pulsing life.
To force down grief, to strengthen strife.

It is flowing wonders' pouring heart,
A weathered, broken beggars' cart.

It is swimming through the sunlit air
On perfume-scented strands of hair.

It is sprouting springtimes luscious glade,
And lying down in burning shade.

It is a flashing trick of fading shadow,
In summer sunlights only meadow.

It is broken trust and spoken lies,
An angry haze in bleeding eyes.

It is sipping sweetness and pouting lips,
A flag of peace that snags and rips.

____

To wallow in and under drown,

To shape a tear, to form a frown.


Exaggerations embracing pain,

They weave a spell to summon rain.


A heart to crush, a mind to flood,

And veins that throb with rivers blood.


Confusion swims where soft truth flies,

A cauldron to mix a concoction of lies.


These fires scar, yet sear no flesh,

While times slow healing turns souls to ash.

She lies

Because I lie

I lie

Because I am insecure

She lies

Because she no longer trusts me

I lie

Because she hurts me

She lies

Because she doesn't want me to see her pain

I lie

Because I fail to understand

She lies

Because she can no longer see the truth of me

I lost her

When I could no longer see the truth of her

If I could quit you
If I could resist

If the truth did not ring true
If the pain did not persist

If the sun were to fail to shine
If I didn't live for dreams of rain

If they didn't drip-dry into this heart of mine
If I didn't weave them into and between every refrain

If I lost myself and I couldn't remember why
If I could ignore that you're not here, holding my hand

If I could picture your picture and refuse to cry
If I wasn't on my knees, if I was able to stand

If there was a drug to take to make me forget
If it erased longing, and sorrow, and pain, and regret

If I could simply eat it and you'd disappear
If I could just drink it and drift off, free of fear

If I pretended to want these things to come true
I would only be lying to myself, trying to spare you