Just when I think I'm a real poet,
I find my very own poet laureate.
The Poetic Nicole is the blinding
light we'd all do well to emulate.

I was born to be alone..
As you weren’t there
for all my panic attacks
when I sent you a message
that I needed you right now
as my hands were shivering
to the point that I couldn't yearn for help,
when the doctor was the only one
who patted my shoulder and said;
It's okay, you are safe now…
When I saw a semi-reflection of my parents
through your soul….
Well, I’m here, fighting demons,
As it’s Thursday,
and you didn’t come home.
I know I should do better
and ignore this intense fear of mine.
I should yearn for something else
rather than the idea of
your colorful permanent settlement
in my black-and-white corners.

Drink alone at noon
in my tiny attic room
of a boarding house
with a noisy mouse.
Lamp, chair, ashtray,
small bed I can lay.
I write poems musical
on paper with classical
music on a tinny radio,
in Dylan's blessed glow.

We wired kids drank coffee
   in Kroger's and stoled fire
   and cigarettes. We were free
we were open to inspire.
   We kissed girls felt fears
   something like young desire,
   warmth we'd chase for years.

My dear old friend
I can't watch your end
between the seconds
ticking it's threatens
life's final surrender
the great pretender.

I'm a forgone conclusion
    and an empty promise.
    My words fail to inspire.
    My loves are always lost.
    Trouble always finds me.
    Read between the lines and
    find the real me with you
    in my heart on my sleeve.

You always wanna be the best
It's a struggle without an end
Running as fast as you can
But you will never pretend
It's the struggle of our daily life
Of politics and war
Everyone here runs so fast
But only gets so far.
And suddenly you find yourself
Running with the Red Queen
Through valleys and over hills
nothing is what it would seem.