Hello, I hope to be your smile
I want to ease your cries
I want to hold and love you, darling
- There's beauty in your lies

Tell me your story
tell me your secrets
But not a sound from me
And if you want to hear my whisper
You'll wait on bended knee

I'll give you a piece of myself now, gorgeous
No, not my heart; you don't deserve it
You'll keep it close, you'll keep it safe
Now tell me you love me and make it perfect

Oh wait, you do?
No, that's not news
Not after all I've done for you.

Your heart is mine!
I've won! It's time.
Just stand there and
I'll wave goodbye...

I'm not someone you should love now, baby.
I'll ruin your life,
I'll drive you crazy.

I'm the boy your daddy warned you about.

So listen to my heartfelt cries
my tearful pleas
these long goodbyes.
Know it's not what I want to say
but I can't bear to hurt you this way.

I've seen your tears,
watched your heart crack
And I wish I could take you back.

You made me happy
I felt alive
Life was more than the way to survive.

But you deserve more
My life is too heavy
And we are both too broken already.

Maybe one day we'll find this funny.
I can't be the strength for your scars now, honey.


Oh, by the way - I'm in love with someone else.

i want: an elbow-crook to rest my head
             a cigarette to share,
             naked forms in riverbeds
             and universal train fare.

i need: breastplate percussion under my ear,
            a breathing on my spine,
             a sunrise built -- my eyes to sear,
             and send me to my sign.

So you **** me
It is off, the sun,
Since you are gone
I try not to think about you
But everything talks to me about you
Vorrei stringerti forte
This night, the city seems very beautiful to me

who knows if you are sleeping


So you **** me
The moon has begun a new cycle
Since I have left
I cannot help but think of you
As everything here cries out for your touch
Non avrei lasciato*
This night, it seems so very cold to me

how could I possibly be sleeping

That day, I remember the sun
And dancing shadows beneath
The blue water in which we swam.
But tonight, there is none.
I do not bother with a light
As I fill the bath in darkness,
Knowing that it withholds your reflection.
I submerge,
Hoping to feel you in the ripples of the water,
Hoping to fall into your warmth,
Hoping to enter the world we constructed;
The one where a sated moon hung
Over that bridge, like an unrequited lover
from a tree.
It was there that I crammed each lung
With every passing second,
In order to prevent our last.
I am still holding my breath -
Though my chest cries out in pain
As time gnaws at each rib, starving
For ruin.

I miss you
Like the secrets I whispered deeply
Into my pillowcase
Just before the house caught fire
Those evening tales, lost
With the photographs hidden beneath a loose floorboard
Paper and ink curling into nothing
But lightly falling ash
Kissing me softly as I watch from the street
Until the embers cease to glow
And morning light reveals me
-A silent statue of grey

That even though it is your words that you are penning - your own thoughts, that it’s a friend?

Some sort of company in the darkness, in the empty parts of your life?

That when loneliness drifts into every orifice; seeping into the crevices and crooks in your body, your words are your friends?

When I write, when I see the ink form variations and combinations of those 26 letters, those symbols, I feel as if the answers are staring back at me.

Perhaps not.

Perhaps this is what writers tell themselves to stop them from going off into the deep end; stop Loneliness from truly swallowing them whole.

What do I know.

Existential cruelty of a long abandoned Friday
Remembered once, twice
then forgotten by 8 pm.

The shots of Chiraq and memories of Hatshepsut linger effortlessly on his doorstep in the dark of sunlight,
but smiles in his lap disappear on the pavement beneath skyscrapers
before the dead of noon.

His mind travels to the curvy bodies of Monroe types.
A palm, a fist, a thumb
caress ******* and legs before he wakes
to find hair on his pillow and lips in his face
where only days before a yellow sky and bright green eyes waved and faded.

And all because interracial pride and prejudice leaked toils and tensions in the face of Basquiat
Where once African princes and white German queens
spent Tuesday afternoons charming their ways into each others' beds
and sighing at the disgust stamped on the faces of strangers.

Don’t cry little angel,
I’m here to save you.
Let’s cry together, make a river.
Let’s dive in each other sadness
And swallow all the flowers.
Don’t cry little angel
I’m here to show you that you’re not alone.
Let's share our pain,
That's all we've got.