her name was Leah, and she had
brightbubblegumpinkhair.
she was flawless in all the ways i wanted to be,
she was broken in all the ways i thought i was,
like a vase that never sits right again.
everyone else gasped and stirred at the pink puffy lines,
but i found them beautiful. a work of art.
a masterpiece in a museum that is crooked and never set
right again.
her name was Leah, and she scared me,
like a lion with no cage. her eyes were hurricanes that had
pillaged and destroyed and conquered and vaporized.
we baked cookie soup, and i only saw her teeth once.
(they were like white shells found lodged in the sand)
i wanted to kiss her arms and run my tongue along the pink,
see if she tasted like burnt toast and rubbing alcohol.
her number used to be lodged inside my brain,
i memorized it instead of listening to people speak inside white walls
with chapped lip stick and perceptions of nonsense.
her name was Leah, and she had
brightbubblegumpinkhair
with a gun locked and loaded.
we lost touch. i started to be sane (that’s what they call it, at least)
i imagine the gun
her brains kissing pavements and secret filled walls.
are they as pink as her hair?

Here lies the fallen king
The token sober kid
Grew up alone in a full house
Surrounded by friends but always in doubt
That this world so dear held love for him too
The doubt grew too strong
And so, he flew

Sara is a dream
With an attitude you won't believe
An addict for advice
She sits alone most friday nights
Spinning suns
And breaking ways
To find a reason not to stay
And live a life
She cannot stand to hold
So pretty in her hands
But quickly breaking down

*****'s screws weren't loose,
they were missing,
all of them,
leaving gaping holes
of unpredictable insanity
in her manic life

only 22,
and built like haya,
the mistress of desire
and lust,
every male nurse and
a certain shrink  at the nut house
couldn't wait to ******
a missing ***** or two
into her

~ psychotherapy with a turgid twist ~

so mum the matron gave her
a protective room at our crib

only 13,
and built like *** wee
the hermit of lore,
I sat at the dinner table
opposite *****

she played footsie
with my naked toes
then gave me the crazy eye
as her lazy tongue
slid in...and out...
of her crazy mouth

~ she needed some ***-wee therapy ~

seed planted,
*** wee fed the fantasy
until it bore fruit:
a succulent apple
in his prurient mind

~ ready to be ...reaped ~

*** wee knocked on the door
~ silence ~

knock.....knock....
~ silence ~

*** wee turned the ****
and there she was...

~ en el desnudo ~

curves, *****, legs
open and inviting,
vacuous eyes staring at me,
daring me...

then she started screaming....

~ P (Pablo)
(7/28/2013)

Let’s do something illegal.
Close your eyes and make
believe we are 15.
Bills and rent. The law.
What is all that anyway?
Can we get so lost
on the beaten path
that there is nothing left
to do but find ourselves?

Let’s sneak into the stadium
with our shwag and make shift
pipe in hand. Then
make love
like we even know
what that means.

Baby make me feel
young and reckless.
Teach me how to be
punk rock, and
flip the bird to
our oppressors.

Remember when
the whole world was against us
and didn’t pretend to be with us?
Remember when
we used to know everything?
Remember when
we were young and reckless,
and had a love that only
the innocent can posses?
Remember when
we were 15?

Baby, let’s do something illegal.

the second
to last
man
on earth
sets a gas can
by a hissing
tire
and struggles
a box
from his pocket

     not knowing

how many
are left.

It’s kind of funny, how
you and cigarettes are so alike, even
though
you hate smoking and
the smoke doesn’t like you.

I go to both you and cigarettes to keep the demons away,
you both give me company and something to think about,
you both put me at ease and get my mind running
at the same time,
and you are both a poison,
and,
and,
both
addicting, habitually, chemically even.

And lately cigarettes have made me nauseous,
I try to get the buzz and I quit before it’s even halfway
done,
And now you make me nauseous, and
I’m only getting the poison side of things,
So what’s the point?
I suppose I’ll just quit both
of you.

I wanted you to love me
But it wasn't fair to ask
You are beautiful, kind, lovely
And I'm a worthless wreck