Just sitting.
Just writing.
Saturday translating.
Comfortly feeling.
Relaxing this evening.
A feeling so captivating.
My mind is liberating.
Thoughts full imagination.
They are the reflection
of seduction.
When memories
feels so alive and
intensively.
Like dreaming in space
so heavenly.
The beauty of words
reveal our vulnerability.
Escape to infinity.

introspection
has long been
my escape
from
reality

as I sit here
gazing at the lips of flame
coming up from under
the wet log above them
I wonder why
I sit here
so alone
and
so
cold

I cannot seem to reach out

not in any good way
not in any bad way
only haphazardly
and impotently
like a snake
robbed of his
venom

I fear I cannot make a mark on this world

(if you want to control me,
abuse that fact)

I fear that I am not worthy to be remembered,
not worthy enough to even look at,
to talk with,
to be more than that ******
in the corner

even when I am the center of attention,
nobody wants to look.

I see the people across the flame
sleep comfortly
in the arms of those
they barely
know

the warmth they feel,
does not seep over to
me.

not even a smile,
not even a hello.

but I bring it on myself,
I know.

so I cannot complain.
I will not complain.

but I am still sad,
and this poem
is my only way
to get it out.

I feel the shivering of this night getting to me.
this cold world we live in haunts me, every day.

I am told
there is warmth
somewhere

and as I gaze upon
that somewhere
I have never felt more
far away from it

Languishing empty,
   nothing
but darkness.
      Pure sweet darkness.
The ebony walls,
   are void of thought.
They surround me,
      comfortly engulf me.
   Holding my freedom.

you want to talk about a good day?

well let me tell you then

a good day is
getting to use notes on a test
and having those notes
but not needing them

a good day is
burning stuff in chemistry
just because we need to **** some
time

a good day is
eating your lunch,
comfortly in a private space,
when all of a sudden
she
walks in
and decides,
for the next hour,
that’s it just going to be
the two of us
talking,
chatting,
and having a good
time.

now that is a good day

one that I’ll hang onto
for a long,
long
time
and my glow from it
will continue until
either
a
******
or
a
destruction

join with me, in the empty streets
wide with ghost town syndrome
as my second mind unwinds in the indulgence

am I, the mannequin perfectly built comfortly undressed to the nines, no suit and tie to look my best
as I, scarecrow only the poor window shoppers

wishing for death, longer than they can hold their breath
from the oxygen that is evenly free
to maintain even a miserable life,  struggling out a living

no parchment paper, no parsley on the side
buried in debt, interest rates don't durendal
in a breeze whilst on medical leave
the sickly, with deep linted pockets looking to the sky for the cough drops to fall, like feather can fly

is it nonsense, to feel no common ground empathy
under a blanket of cold, sleeping in
natures man made ditches, disfavored as filth
pity thee fool, who can't count the bodies piling up
like the floors of the newest
pristine skyscraper

named, I'll never be successful enough to pay my taxes
the good American floating billions "my money"  in off shore bays
smiling with frugal achievements
because socialist skills, are not capitalist gains

It's worse than I thought it could ever be
O Life, please protect my sons
Cheese and crackers comfortly
Taipei 101

Grateful sleep, solitude
Un pequito fun
True Grit on Facebook
Too much summer sun

          An assassin's gun....