Romance is born of pretty lies
   and poor judgement and alcohol
   and low bar light and juke box
   siren song swaying our hips in
   surrender as we dance to a cab
   and feed our weakness at 3 am
   in a bed of grand hotel roses.
   We wake up at noon in thorns.

Birth to Death is life.
On a pinball machine
bounces off bumpers
into brand new clean

gone a new you
no stretch marks
summer of love
**** in Eden parks.

I did French leave
I abandoned you
I went to Boston
built a life new.

Years ago I said
Just a dog dead.
Didn't have a soul
down memory hole.
Years ago we did It
West Side Story ****
Tony and Maria vows
forever eternal now's.
We made our Kate
in a Mustang date.
Years ago somehow
we fell to our fate.
We adopted black
Jack Daniel's broke
into our own flack
and we all awoke.

Chemistry and Biology. Bang!Bang!
We call it Love! It's really Lust!
Pregnant you glow until you grow.
Be my Valentine 'til Death or Dust.

Taken with Cindy Issack from work.
Marriage counseling. Friend events
week nights confused unused a ****.
I'm passed off to a shrink for bents.

He sees me in a panic and then ******.
Non addictive friend for 15 numb years
guilt controlled by my shield from sin.
We had carte blanche **** without fears.

God's wrath struck the Joshua tree
   and reduced it to cremated ashes,
   let Rattlers unwind. Left it to be.
   We watched it in lightening flashes.
   We died in angry desert cactus scrub
   hidden branches of the poison creosote
   where the only touch is death's rub.
   We just grow colder without hope,
   join our bodies on this unmarked dune.
   The stars are your bright eyes above.
   I stare at your beauty in a full moon.
   Kiss is a final breath our dying love.

I'll flog you and tear nails out
laughing while you flail about.
Rent a bed for an hour or two
rent a lover to swallow you.
Live inside the human stew,
own nothing not color blue.

A thousand strings of a thousand gods
  orchestrate our lives. We think we are
  in control. Baby boomers, spoiled brats.
  We missed our hardships to make us pure.

  Our parents did the suffering. They were
  damaged from brutal truths they bled
  bent on keeping us safe from the flames
  that licked and kicked the living to dead.

  We live as puppets of circumstance and hope.
  We seek answers where none exists. We'll die
  like those before us. Hating life and death
  not for the actors but for the play's lie.