in my family conversation is seldom thoughtful questioning filled with wonder quiet pauses instead it is sociable banter teasing goading spontaneous gratuitous remarks clever embellishment excessive flattery it is an ancient system passed down patronage pecking order nepotism sycophancy near to impossible for me to be honest in presence of their overwhelming vanity when it comes to family gatherings my voice isn’t very strong my family’s joking squelches my chirp they are each and all more loud sarcastic faster wittier more crude outrageous more funny loud gregarious sanguine Mom embarrasses herself with uncalled for flirtations (her mental state rapidly deteriorating) everyone laughs boisterously they snap kid exaggerate amplify taunt i can hardly get word in i need to repeat myself several times or more to be heard my voice is minor i struggle to tell story they listen politely then rush back into their rowdy repartee i am way too sincere way too naked in my ineptitude my stomach ties in knots biting lip shivering from cold fear what’s going to happen pitch black in front of me voice inside screams please i need help so bad please make it easier i’m lost in all this commotion drama hunger lack of clarity

Chicago 1980 Odysseus always revered cousin Chris is taller tan-skinned handsomer stronger protective of Odysseus knowing he is frivolous liability tags along with Chris and his prosperous trader friends advantaged echelon inherited wealth educated white young men they float above everyone else their tastes in clothes furnishings run Brooks Brothers Burberry Giorgio Armani Ralph Lauren John-Paul Gautier Paul Smith Emile Zegna Salvatore Ferragamo their preference in women run typically blonde large ******* tight butts make-up painted nails they think Odysseus is a freak because he usually chooses females none of them want Odysseus likes skinny girls flat chests glasses he knows he is an extraneous art pet to Chris and his group

Chris joins newly built state of art fitness facility pricey membership accesses all of Chicago’s fast track shakers movers politicians lawyers pretty people Odysseus has his limits he does not have money to join also he dislikes snooty elitism several times Chris invites Odysseus as guest Odysseus feels insecure outsider Chris always includes Odysseus pays for dinners they begin with round of doubles then 2nd round of doubles before glancing at menu Chris drinks Canadian Club on the rocks Odysseus follows they raucously order extravagant meals with appetizers 3rd 4th 5th rounds of doubles after pricey dinner at chic restaurant Chris’s group rendezvous at bar or club they order round of drinks tip lavishly sip drink glare around room leave barely touched drinks walk out with look of disdain they scavenge more bars in search of females or some intangible attraction Odysseus is never certain what they are looking for or what is the source of their contempt each wears black leather jacket carries huge wads of cash $20s $50s $100s folded stuffed in front pockets no wallets or clips

the Red Meat palace or Chang’s Szechwan grill are their favorite restaurants as many as 8 men sit at table pack mentality prevails for dessert course they pull out small brown bottles filled with ******* if it is Friday night Chris’s pad is frequently elected females other arrangements settle bill depart restaurant one night Odysseus arrives early at Chang’s wanders downstairs into women’s boutique salesgirl named Fiona greets him they hit it off he invites her to join him and his hosts upstairs after her shift is done Fiona arrives as dessert is about to be served table of men look desirously at Fiona beams Odysseus and Fiona along with Chris Phil Tom go to Odysseus’s place Fiona is perhaps 22 petite lovely with deep blue eyes set wide apart long eyelashes brown thick hair cut to shoulders high ******* pink ******* fragrance of linden flowers delighted by male attention Fiona ***** fondles each men are quite intoxicated Odysseus and Phil are only capable to sustain erections Odysseus stares mesmerized at Fiona’s extraordinarily swollen ***** she notices his fixation grins blushing men shout commands but in actuality Fiona is in charge reducing each of them to little boys vying for her attention near conclusion she requests they form circle around her ******* on her chest she fondles them touches herself men laugh mockingly as if to compensate for their lack of performance Tom picks up plastic dart gun aims it at Fiona she laughs crawls on all fours Tom fires dart hitting her on **** Phil grabs gun from Tom reloads another dart suddenly it feels like fraternity stunt Odysseus goes along offended by his own complicity to him episode feels more like men having *** with each other than being with a woman telephone rings it is Odysseus’s latest love pursuit she tells him she is on her way over everyone rushes to put on clothes change bed sheets they depart within minutes she arrives finally ready after weeks of romancing to put out for him after that night when Chris and Odysseus get buzzed in bar Chris routinely speaks the line to women have you ever been done by 2 cousins one night at Green River tavern woman squeezes milk from her ****** into shot glass dares cousins to drink Chris laughing turns down her offer Odysseus shoots back shot of milk then takes swig of Irish whiskey cousins go see Billy Idol at Odysseus’s insistence they stand near front stage young girls screaming after show driving home in Chris’s Fiat Spider Chris complains his ears are ringing i don’t know how i’ll be able to work tomorrow Odysseus nods like he hears hollers out window hey little sister shotgun!

Mom and Dad want their son to enjoy fruits of burgeoning affluence they feel certain what they are doing is best for him they rent quarter seat at Chicago Mercantile Exchange they originally promised full seat but they are overextended Odysseus enrolls in trading course he learns to trade Certificates of Deposit and Eurodollars which are recently established markets suddenly Odysseus has lots of cash his parents are dishing out he does not know what he is doing newly launched markets lack investment and fleece young men of their parent’s money his friends surroundings change he loses sight of himself he is a thoroughly incompetent trader bleeding cash scatters money between harebrained panicked trades or ******* girls $1000. wristwatch when Mom and Dad see jewelry they become furious in a way he represents his parent’s design for how to build successful son yet their plan is going dreadfully wrong he wants to stand up speak out against Dad and Mom he is not courageous enough to counter their weight he wants to express with more assurance his passion to pursue painting and writing isn’t fact he graduated from art school evidence enough of his aspirations commodities exchange is last place in the world he belongs Odysseus is risk taker but he is not aggressive or entrepreneurial only lesson he has learned with respect to his parents is how to run away

by all appearances cousin Chris is brilliant trader in reality Chris is hooked up with powerful crooked brokers they use him as their bagman he covers losing trades and is compensated or offsets winning side of profitable trades subsequently dealt his share Chris is not a criminal he stumbles into profit-making situation when certain conditions are flexible to advantages Chris is diligent hard worker the vast sums of money he earns do not distort his personality he is always generous shielding of Odysseus gold trading pit becomes so shady S.E.C. intervenes relinquishing exchange’s contract Chris and his bosses walk away unscathed having made their bundles

Mom and Aunt Rita run social itinerary for family including birthdays holidays all other gatherings where family will meet changes by the minute depending on Mom and Aunt Rita’s caprice checking in by telephone at least an hour before is mandatory arriving at destination Mom and Aunt Rita insist on specific table location seating arrangement it is important they be seen viewed by others at restaurant they never sit near kitchen or washrooms or where there is too much noise light away from drafts who sits next to who is crucial round tables are their favorite preferring backs to wall looking out so they can nod wave Mom rules from proud pedestal Dad upholds chain of command sometimes he irritably gripes Aunt Rita immediately comes to Mom’s defense Dad points finger back off Rita you’re way out of line where do you come up with a remark like that Mom mediates Max that’s enough in a way the sisters are spoiled little girls over-indulged by their father they believe their opinions and tastes are the best most correct everyone in family are subordinate to their no and don’t Mom and Aunt Rita routinely criticize Odysseus’s semantics oppose his observations critical of his clothes conduct they handily misconstrue his comments to mean fodder for their amusement Mom and Aunt Rita’s efforts to keep prim proper decorum cause resentment Odysseus feels constricted by his subservient role in drama of family he fails to understand their care

Odysseus busts out of markets leaving behind alarming debts for family to pay off he feels humiliation disgrace plunges into bottomless sleepless despair hides in house door locked window shutters shut phone rings unanswered hates life willfully wants to destroy himself there is no way out after week Chris comes by to see if he is all right Odysseus is reluctant to let Chris in Chris commands be a man get a grip on yourself Odysseus replies maybe i’m not a man he feels failure shame realizes he has become traitor to himself he wants to look at existence head on embrace it but all he knows are dishonor regret deception he conceives his being has been stolen he wants his life back but knows not how to recover it he feels deep in obligation to Mom and Dad thinks to escape from Chicago but his parent’s control is crushing he wakes late drinks black coffee smokes cigarettes marijuana hangs out alone sky changes from light to dark to light phone rings he reads Nietzsche Sartre frequents ***** Hole punk rock dive several blocks from residence becomes orphan of night drinking drugging

January 5 2011 30 years have passed Chris marries fathers son becomes best father to his child he can be leaves markets in late 80’s Dad dies in ’91 Odysseus leaves Chicago in 1994 he manages to paint some paintings write some words stomach ties in knots biting lip shivering from cold fear what’s going to happen ***** pink gray skies behind pitch black in front sometimes you need to take a step back in order to move forward Mom says she worried enough about money when she was younger and isn’t going to worry about it anymore her entire life she boasted i’m saving for my children but in the end she saved solely for herself Odysseus never learned to stand on his own all he ever wanted is to love and be loved he wonders what will happen next

I’ve grown tired of this suit.
I don't like wearing it anymore.
It’s not what it once was.
It’s a constant burden to me.
It’s discolored, faded, and worn thin, especially around the knees.  
It’s marred with tears and stains.
It embarrasses me.
It itches.
It’s suffocating.
It’s downright ugly.
I no longer feel comfortable in it. I haven’t for decades.
I’ve taken it to the best cleaners, the best tailors that money can buy, but it's still a tattered mess beyond repair.
People say I look good in it, that it’s me, it's who I am,  don’t be so self conscious.
But what do they know?
They're not the ones who wear it all the time. I ******* do, ******* it.
Maybe there’s some hidden truth in all of this that I’ve been bypassing all along?
I don’t have the patience and tolerance to keep wearing it.
The long-avoided decision to rid myself of my suit finally catches up with me.
I’m not timid, not scared, not anxious - just relieved. Excited. Ready to undress.
There’s a fresh, clean robe waiting for me, hanging from the mantle at the bottom of the stairs.
I prepare myself for facing the uncertainty.
So, here I go.
I undress.
It takes a matter of seconds before I rid myself of the suit.
I stand naked, towering over the folded mess.  
I think to myself, that wasn’t so bad after all…
Just like anything in life, it’s the anticipation that cripples us.  Remember that.
I lower my head and stare only for a few moments at my *****, mangy suit.
Nothing at all, no remorse, no guilt – only liberation.  I receive the peace that has softly spoken to me in my dreams, through music, by feeding ducks and listening to the early morning birds.  They usually have the first thing to say, and it’s the most beautiful message one will ever hear.    
I place my robe over my naked body and start walking up the worn, creaky stairs.
Distant laughter and muffled conversations travel down to me as I climb higher towards the thick, ornate door.
The voices are familiar.  
I push open the door, welcomed by the faces that have been gone for far too long.

I need to quiet my phone
the worry will drive me insane
The sound it makes in a room
Embarrasses me for no gain
In a large group, it's fine
No one can hear a thing to blame
but in a small group of my friends
I can't ever let it happen again

It's a bad day when you can't get Celene Dion out of your head
Titanic was good
It was not that good

I found a dried flower
Buried in Leviticus of my sort of grandma's bible
She must have liked that part
The only quote about Leviticus I've read on the internet is about stoning gay people
I hope she didn't like it that much

I saw a bagel get made
No one has the job of eating the middles out
I'm 23, this was a let down
I still like bagels a lot

I tacked the dry flower on my wall
Above the reminder that it's $3 a day to swim at the public pool in the mornings
I hope it's not a homophobic flower
I hid the bible behind Lauren Conrad's book
Lauren Conrad's book embarrasses me less

My sort of grandma
Is only sort of alive
I often feel that way

I feel most alive while dreaming of the impossible
Realistic dreams lead to disappointment
Outlandish dreams leave little 'remember when’s’'
No one hates themselves for not becoming an astronaut
A lot of people hate themselves for not losing 20lbs

Friendships are often measured in favors
That is all
That was not all
Favors are measured in sacrifices
Favors are not measured in reward

Today is a reflection of not dying yesterday
There is a one in seven chance that today is Friday
And it is imperative that we get down on Friday
Because the anticipation for this weekend is very high
If today is Monday all of that is no longer relevant to our conversation

I am losing weight
As I lose weight more and more fat girls hit on me
I do not like this as much as what I was imagining would happen

I have learned that being funny **** cool
Like I am becoming
Does not mean hot girls will hit on me
It means they will actually think about it before saying no

To supplement my soon to be chiseled physic
I am learning a Jack Johnson song on guitar
This worked for an acquaintance in 2006
Maybe I should learn Colbie Callait instead

The world would be better if schools had better teachers
The world would also be better if high school seniors paid attention to the teachers they already have
I don't know which one is easier to fix

My past seems rosier than my future
Except in the case of February 16th 2007
And now February 16th 2012

Corner buildings and modern light fixtures are my favorite aesthetics
My favorite building has neither of those features
Those features are not that awesome

Dead flowers smell like dead things
To combat this I spray cologne on my grandma's flower
I have never been to a funeral
I wonder if they febreeze the dead people
Or maybe they use Chanel No. 5
This is something I would like to learn more about

1024

So large my Will
The little that I may
Embarrasses
Like gentle infamy—

Affront to Him
For whom the Whole were small
Affront to me
Who know His Meed of all.

Earth at the best
Is but a scanty Toy—
Bought, carried Home
To Immortality.

It looks so small
We chiefly wonder then
At our Conceit
In purchasing.

In height, I stand,
watching danger encountered
people, so much worried
hands folded, prayers stood.

Selfish traitor, I asked for help
as, in top, i was held,
thinking of myself,
never stops the thought of my shelf.

apartment dipped in water,
yearning for decrease in level,
finding ways, as I think clever,
morning, i get up, to see quarter.

Siblings hurry in for rescue
boats, that embarrasses my arrival,
wishing to turn it into ice cubes
just to kick it, clear my way to val.

Sitting, tapping, hitting,
my keys, here I come,
with my key for escaping
and there, I found my home.

When the heart stirs
the feet soon follow
or so it is with me
born to be a dancer

Lithe and compact
fearless in motion
a Baryshnikov of the living room
a Nureyev in the night

When my daughter
was new born
seventeen sweet years ago
I would hold her close
dance her through the whole house
sing to her
tell her
I'll love you forever and ever
no matter what
promise her everything
it was in my power to give

Here
in my dotage
my dancing embarrasses her
my rude manners
outrage her at times
No matter

I thrill when
I hear her sing
weep
when I see her onstage
grin like God's fool
when I meet her at
the backstage door.

This tribute
and these poor lines
are humbly offered
by a man who is blessed
a man who wakes up every day
saying thanks
a father proud
a retired musician
(more or less)
whose child
without urging
took up the mantle
and carried it further
than dad ever could.

god, like a child
in front of Eves nakedness he blushed and looked away -
- the smallest ****** functions made him giggle
when he saw her sit down to *** he pointed and laughed -
he wasn't amused
just embarrassed

One day I’m going to do it
I’m going to be truly free
I may be too old to even know
But in my mind I will see
I will see everything I ever believed
And I wonder if I will laugh or cry
Because I will be what I never was
And I will know how it is to not know why
I like to flash forward and over-expose my dream
I want to see what a distorted world it might be
In each frame the truth and the fiction alternate
As it speeds up you’ll not know if it’s you or if it’s me
I can think of every mass I ever attended
And how my Father made me stand straight
Or I can think about how stupid I was
When I told someone about their coming fate
But an old man who embarrasses his children
Is not something to aspire to become
But how can I avenge myself against those who I slaved for
If I don’t grow a beard and drink too much ***?
I want a statue on the shore of every eroded dream
I want one facing the north, the west and to the east
But ne’er the south for that is which way the wind came
A freeman must point to that which he knows least
Oh what exaggeration could I tell as the film snaps in my mind?
What words other than these in my hand could shock and awe?
How telling to desire the odd look of bemused judgment from another
For to not care of anyone or anything is the mark of freedom’s call
Yes freedom… and yet how many cannot accept a free man?
How many wish to tell me exactly what I should say, do or wear?
Can a man imprisoned in his own mind lock the door to mine?
Can an escapee be held by someone armed with mere prayer?
In what natural state of light flickered by God’s whims must I seek?
For the reel to reel that comes to my dreams can only be spliced by hope
And even if tomorrow which is all I live for never arrives
I already know what I want to be is what I am as I remove society’s rope

Believe me when I say that I never intended for any of this to happen.
What I mean to say is,
back when we first started seeing each other,
and you waited 30 minutes before responding to my texts and
I got nervous speaking to you ,
I couldn’t picture any of this happening.

Perhaps I could have imagined us kissing in some restaurant, or maybe even holding hands in line at the movie theatre, but the rest of it? Well, that I could not have imagined.

I guess at this point it’s embarrassing, right? Not embarrassing like when I think I start work at 6 but I actually start at 5 and I run in an hour late and everyone stares at me.
It doesn’t make me red in the face or anything like that.
It’s just humiliating.
I know the way I sound when I talk about you: silly, young, a character from a Sarah Dessen novel, but mostly like someone I would make fun of. That’s the thing that embarrasses me the most — that this thing has turned me into someone else.
It’s that other person  
that needy, grabby salesman of a person
that you don’t like, right? Is that the thing you can't stand about me?
That neediness?
That itchiness?
The way I look at you, the way I change my plans for you?
How did I become one of those girls who work at a department store and follow you from rack to rack.
“Do you need anything?”
“Can I help you with anything?”
“Is there anything in particular today that you’re looking for?”
If I cared less, would you care more? At first I was going to ask
“would you care at all,”
but that’s not right, is it? You care about me, you do.
You value me.
Probably. I mean, if someone asked you if you value me, you would say yes.
You just don’t actively value me. It seems like that wouldn’t make a difference, but it makes a huge difference.

I’ve manicured my hands and
dyed my hair and
perfumed my skin for you and, the whole while, I’ve told myself that it would make you want me.

I’ve made sure I was the funniest in the room, the wittiest in the conversation, convincing myself that it would make you change your mind.
It should be noted that these are precisely the kind of facts that humiliate me.
It didn’t work.
None of it worked.
Isn’t that funny?
I mean, not ha-ha-funny, but you have to admit
there is something laugh-worthy about it.

I mean, I once spent the whole day getting my hair cut and blown out because you said you thought Id be too brown for red hair so I went and got something that would work.

Because I wanted a change but I needed to accommodate to you.

HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!

I have told you so much, but there are pieces I have learned to keep hidden from you over these few months.
Perhaps, these are the parts I will eventually learn to compartmentalize and keep hidden from myself,
as well.

It’s no question in my mind:
When a tree falls in the forest and nobody hears it, it does not make a sound, it did not fall.

I don’t move on well.

I sit in a box labeled “Past Things.”

One of those boxes that you shove in the attic or basement and you keep your childhood dolls and high school awards in it.

I do not know why this is.

Maybe I don’t want to move on.

Do you think that’s it?

I’m sorry; that’s an unfair question, isn’t it?
Well, while I’m at it, can I ask more unfair questions?
Is there anything I can do?
I can be more honest or less harsh or less anxious or more quiet.
Do you like quiet girls? I could be a quiet girl.

Yes, I could certainly be one of those quiet girls.
Just tell me what to do it and I’ll do it.
I’m sorry.
I’m doing it again, aren’t I?
The thing you don’t like about me isn’t my hair color or my laugh that’s a bit too loud or anything like that.

It’s the questions and neediness. It's that isn't it?

I worry that every little thing I do,
disappoints you,

& I worry that the things I say,
embarrasses you.

I worry that the feelings I push away,
frustrates you.


& I realize.. i always worry,
and it always leads back to you.

But I don't ever worry for you
because I know you're not coming back,
I know you're okay.

I never say what I mean
When I beg you to talk to me:
I don't beg.
I just say hello.
I find things to say,
Silly things.
Anything.
See,
I never say

                                                            ­   "Please, please speak to me.
                                     You are the only thing that makes days like this any better.
                                     I feel a knot in my stomach and my heart won't slow down.
                                                           ­   Please say any old stupid thing
                                                           ­     And make me feel at home."

I don't mention it, I don't ask,

"Please, just a word, just one.
          Any word that isn't one of hate.
                   Anything, any tiny little phrase.
                            Even that you're busy or that your day's been boring.
                                    Please, just a thought in my direction.
                                         I need proof that you are here.
                                                I don't know why.
                                                     I never know why.
                                                          Bu­t the longer I go without
                                                         ­       The more I've lost you in my head.
                         And me as well."

I try not to explain,

                                                       ­                                                "I think there's something in here with me
Something not-quite-right
                                                 ­                          That pulls the strings and makes me crazy
                             When I don't hear your voice for a while.
         I'm really scared that I could be like                                                        the people in the movies
                                                          ­            Who rock on their knees and hum
Whose eyes are hollowed out.
                                                            ­                           You keep me from that person crouched inside me
         Waiting to spring forth and unravel my sanity."

I never tell you these things.
I assume you know.
It embarrasses me to ask for help with my own head.
It shames me that you are so essential.
I spare you knowing it, mostly.
And I just say hello.
But know this:
Whenever I say it,
Whenever I say anything out of the blue,
Any random little conversation I start that seems but meaningless...

Know that underneath my words there's this.
Know that it's likely I've tried already, to leave you alone and not bother you
Until you want to talk to me.
Know that behind every hello,
There is a plea
                                                            ­                    "Save me."
I don't know from what.
I don't know why it's you.
I don't know what makes me shake and frown and my heart
Speeduplikearunawaytrain.
I only know that you fix it.
And that I am not strong enough not to ask you to, if all it costs you
Is just a smile and
                                                             ­                   


                                                              ­                     **"Hello."

Wrap up all your games
And take them all away.
They might be fun for you
But I don’t want to play.

Sometimes what we think is luck
It isn’t that at all
It’s a series of bad decisions
That lead us to a fall.
You never seem to grow
Out of this kind of crap.
And smiling while you cheat
Is another kind of trap.

I don’t want to play
Take yourself away
Don’t come back here
Any other day.

You seem to believe
That finding the right words
Means your lies disappear
Like they were never heard.
You never get embarrassed
At the ugly things you do.
But it turns our stomachs
And embarrasses us too.

Wrap up all your games
And take them all away.
They might be fun for you
But I don’t want to play.

It’s almost like a game
You used to play as a kid
Where all of us were meant
To ignore the things you did.
This is not a playground
And we are not in school.
Once it might have been cute
But now you’re just a fool.

I don’t want to play
No matter what you say,
Today or any day.
Find somebody less aware.
I don’t want to play.

I sometimes write
Of stories and fantasies
And these words spill from my fingers
Frighteningly effortlessly as they tell
Of passionate romances and crushing heart shatters and death of innocence
But I've never felt these things and
I feel fraudulent and cruel
Claiming feelings to which I have no right
And I wonder where these words come from that
Spill so easily from my finger tips
Because they aren't from experience
And they aren't true
Rereading them only embarrasses and confuses me
So should I validate them at all?
Mom peers at me worriedly as I try to convince her that I only used first person for form purposes
As I try to prove to her that this was (some bizarre) imagination and not some reality she wasn't aware of

I don't know how a kiss would feel on my lips.
Love and infatuation are strangers to my heart and mind.
I don't know how it hurts to be truly rejected or hated by someone I love.
To be so enraptured in someone else that the lines between us fade: a foreign and unfamiliar concept to my soul.
I don't know how hard it is to make mistakes in romances.
I've never come home giddy and unable to stop smiling because of a boy.
I don't know.
There's so very much I do not know.
And the absence of that knowledge feels like an object I don't have a place for inside my home of a mind.
Awkward and in the way and too obvious
But I don't know if I want to get rid of it yet.
It's oddity has become a part of me,
And it's absence would mean grieving a change
I'm not prepared for.

She could see that he wanted to cry
She noticed the familiar look in his eye
But he willed his eyes not to leak
He busied his hands
And he made noises- as if to speak
In a futile attempt to regain control over his emotions
As if the single tear rolling down his cheek-
The expression of all the worries
And troubling thoughts
That continue to weigh down his heavy heart-
Will make him less of a man in his daughter's eyes
She can roll her eyes all day
She can scream and shout
She can groan and complain forever about
How he's overbearing
How he embarrasses her
And how he just doesn't understand
But every time she sees him
Sitting across from her
With watery, red rimmed eyes and a tight throat
She is reminded
That he and she are made up of the same stuff
That he loves her more than anything in this world
And that he is the sole reason for her existence

I feel *****
Like the ***** you cannot shake or wash away
A ***** that smells but is only putrid to you
The disappointment, the despair
The dirtiness that you feel when you dripped gasoline on your hands
Where the fragrance never leaves and the memory hits you
A constant reminder of what you did
Like a stain that stares at you and reveals what was done
Where it bleeds through the many layers designed to conceal it but it wreaks.
And as I go through my day, I can't look my parents in the eye
I can't smile at them like the son they love
For the smell only embarrasses me more
"They didn't raise me to be this way"
And I stumble with words to form an excuse
Jumbled and fake I have no alibi
I am a convicted man and as the plan goes
My action only makes me lower my head in shame
I want to shove it under my bed, strangle it and let it die with time
But inside I know
Inside I feel
That this smell will be forever there
Another stench I must solemnly bare.

Amid tears we smile and laugh,
Never have we been closer, than when we have been helping each other,
Now we know how to listen, even though sometimes it is to our own voices,
In the middle of all this, we still hug and kiss and hold hands awkwardly, and in the
Very icy slippery days of winter, she will still reach for my arm offered, for support,
Everyday I wake up I am thankful she is beside me,
Rich has my life been, have you seen her art?,
She is a great mother, as I read recently if she embarrasses them, they have not lived long enough,
Art she does, artist she is, colour to the darkness, her imagination
Reaches beyond the rainbow, somewhere, someday, somehow, you will still finds us together for
Years from the past added to years from now, we will still be having a blast!

irritating itching creeping up my neck
annoying buzzes in my ear
screeching of the chalk board
the sound of knuckles cracking
the silence so noiseless it embarrasses my thumping heart
this is how my soul feels

You give me an irregular heartbeat,
You make my stomach drop,
You cause my confidence to deplete,
You make my breathing completely stop.

You snap your fingers, I fall to my knees.
It's so easy for you to make me feel weak.
To my heart, you stole all the keys...
You're a cheat, and a sneak.

You make me feel total bliss,
Anger, sadness, and anguish all at once.
When you leave a lingering kiss,
I go from feeling wonderful, to feeling like a dunce.

Your control embarrasses me,
You blind me, and I can't see.
You squeeze, and I plea,
But I just can't break free.

I just wanted to say I love you. I can't wait till we meet, and I hope I don't scare you off. I have the tendency to do that. I would like to apologize in advance for anything I say or do that embarrasses the hell out of you. Also I would like to tell you I'm fighting for you. It's really hard right now, but the thought of you gets me out of bed in the morning. I know I'm only sixteen and I won't meet you for a couple of years, but it's you that I stay alive for. It's you and our children and our white picket fence. I'm fighting for every cheesy thing we do, and every argument we have because I know you will be worth it. You already are, and I probably haven't even met you. It's 1:39 am on Februaury 16, 2015 and its you who is keeping me up. I can't wait to fall in love with you.
Love Always
Gwendolyn

You are heart of my heart, you are color of my eyes
You are pleasure of my life you are pain of my cries
You are in my disguise and I am in your disguise
Love on beauty relies, neither beauty nor love is wise

Life is desert without water,  a mountain to surmount
Hence through out life one is busy to search destination
My sweetheart for me you are more than paramount
Beauty remains in contemplation while love is pure action

What has gone but what is to come is of prime importance
Together we can make this world is an actual heaven
Beauty in concurrence with love brings to life all prudence
Then in attraction of life love embarrasses real love season

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

Look at this pile of *******
Spilled from a poisoned mine
A plundered treasure chest
With nothing left worth taking
I couldn't give it away
A cruel moment
Opens my eyes to it's worth
Fit for fire
Last dream down
It's time to wake up now
My legacy embarrasses me
Time to recoil
From the god that made me
This way
Without blame
No bitter words thrown
Apathy
Perhaps a trace of resentment
A sense of loss
Something that might have been
Time to accept truth
Hold it in like rising bile
Step out for a lucid moment
Look see the naive self-pity
Pleas
Demands for attention not deserved or earned
Slave to the ego
Wanting only to feed it
Until it's fat
Still shoving it in
Even as these words are spewing out
Expecting, in vain, to be heard
By a world
Unapologetic
Crushing my back

I always knew when she was irritated with me-
her ears would start to lower until they were parallel with the floor
like the wings of an airplane, attached to the fusilage
She would then start swishing her tail
like a lion-tamer's bullwhip-
and she won't blink!
I wish my wife would stop doing that. It embarrasses the cat!
copyright" richard riddle 05-04-15

i don’t know what to do, love. i wish there was something i could do to help me bare with the heaviness of your absence. as hard as it is, i’ve come to realize that i need you here. i need to hear the sound of your laugh. i need to gaze into your brown eyes one more time. i need to stare at you doing such ordinary things, like watching your favorite show or having your favorite dish. i need to hear you talk about university or state your opinion on a movie or documentary. i need to feel that ache in my stomach from cracking up at your jokes and watching you do the clumsiest things to make me laugh. i need you to try to throw me off bed and feed me in public when i’m not looking just because you know it embarrasses me. i need you to pose anywhere and take endless pictures of us. i need you to introduce me to your mom one more time. i need you to smile again when she asks about me. i need you to get frustrated with me but still call me by my name so i know i haven’t lost you forever. i need you to randomly call me when your friends are around. i need you to ask me one more time why i want to hang up. i need you to listen as i tell you the things i could never say to anyone else. i need you to get under my skin, to **** me off like no one else. i need you to make me feel as comfortable as i felt the first night we met. i need you to put my mind at ease. i need you to fight for me one more time. i need you to discuss the most random topics with me. i need you to share your writings one more time. i need you to lay with me while we listen to our favorite songs, just one more time. i need you to give me that rush, to send shivers down my spine, to make me feel like my heart is about to drop, just one more time. as pathetic as it sounds, i need you here. but i know for a fact, that you don’t need me. and i don’t need the heartache of knowing that you don’t feel the same way i do.

so stay safe, love. i need you to be strong, love. i need you to admire every sunset you come across. i need you to blast your favorite songs and cruise around the city. I need you to wear your heart on your sleeve without worrying about the whole world looking. i need you to finish reading the book i gave you. i need you to keep those two bracelets. i need you to work ******* achieving your goals. i need you to make the best out of your life because every second counts. i need you to smile softly. i need you to fall in love with someone who’s willing to give you more than you deserve, because you deserve the world and should only settle for someone who can offer you an entire multiverse. i need you to talk about your feelings. i need you to value yourself and stand your ground. i need you to recommend the Breadwinner series to as many people as you can. i need you to listen to Location one more time. i need you to sing along to it, just one more time. i need you to go on with your life and i need you to be happy, even if that happiness doesn’t include me. i need you to belong to the horizon and the night sky and the stars, because you could never belong to me.


yours truly,
S.B.

My life is a flower in flames, and I can't blow it out.

I swing with the wind but I can't move forward, I'm sitting like a tree forever stuck in this existence.

But today I'm preparing myself to lose, because I ruin everything.

I will burn myself and watch my flesh set to flames before I see the sun rise, I'm stuck in the dark, in the midnight moon light, tonight I hope to God I don't die but ill set myself on fire like I promised.

Ill be the one to write the last page of my life, ill be the one ending my story, and ill be the one flouting in the river tonight.
But I guess the good news may be that I can't see tomorrow, I can't see tomorrow.

When will my sun rise? When will my eyes open to the light? I'm a depressing paranoid freak but I want my sun light tonight, even tho every day is night, I want my sun rise.

I guess by the end of this letter ill be gutted dry, but I guess by the time you see this ill be at my funeral, ill watch everyone cry but no one cared until now, but I guess ill be in the ground by the time you see this so I hope you visit my grave at least once.

Ill watch over you, I'll make sure you're ok, just like you didn't do for me, and I can't pretend to be more than I am, but ill show the death in me but I guess ill be rotted half way by the time you see this.

I can't embrace a new beginning because I can't control myself, so never more watch me fall at your feet and watch me embarrasses you again and again and again and again.

I hear and see this death inside of me every day, so once my flower is burnt tonight just remember, no one cared before.

You see, what scares me isn't falling in love,
it's falling out.
The many reasons you fell love in her,
will be the exact ones why you stopped.

Her stubbornness that was once so exhilarating,
now only frustrates you.

Her kindness that was once so lovely,
now only makes you jealous.

Her way of knowing how you feel that was once so right,
now only annoys you.

Her relaxed attitude that was once so frank,
now only makes you detest her for being lazy.

Her bright eyes that was once so exuberant,
now only makes you shield your eyes.

Her loyalty that was once so persistent,
now only infuriates you.

Her quirks and habits that made you crash and fall,
now only embarrasses you.



So don't fall in love,
because its only temporary.
You'll fall out of love,
after a while.
Not now, not later,
but you will
eventually,
because nobody
stays
in
love.

I don't know a thing about you, but I like you very much,
I hope in the future we can stay in touch.
I think we would get along so well, we have similar interests,
You're nerdy, but cool, independent and adventurous.
We began our connection by way of the arts,
And with that start I believe we could have a heart to heart.
You wouldn't believe when we met how I was so excited,
I was just blown away; I was like a candle, delighted.
To know there's another person with so much enthusiasm,
In this day and age, that's almost a modern phantasm.
You have this quality about you, a certain private piety,
If you told me about it, I would make it notoriety.
I hope you're like me and have some doubts,
Though I never lose faith, and I never outwardly pout.
To me, I don't think that would make our connection worsen,
I think it would strengthen it, I would know you're a realistic person.
Every time we've ever talked, I've been nothing but honest,
If I never conveyed that truth to you, that would be my one promise.
I pray you understand every guy is not the same,
I'm not trying to run game, because to me, that is lame.
I don't want any benefits; I just want to be your best friend,
Someone you can trust, someone you can depend.
You've taught me so much, through means of cartoon animation,
It reminds me of my tender years, my former education.
I hope I've shown you a level of confidence,
The fact that I persistently asked to hang out should be evidence.
I would love for you to know that I'm not a creeper or stalker,
Though I can be annoying, because I'm a long-winded talker.
But then, in the end, I write this poem, but you'll probably never read it,
Whatever I have to offer, you probably don't even need it.
You'll probably go on living life vicariously,
The fact that I hold on to false hopes embarrasses me.
When I look at single older people, it makes me sad,
To know at one time, they had something that made them glad.
On the other hand, that's something I've never experienced,
I'm just a sad ole receiver, waiting for deliverance.
When you said you want to join the Peace Corps, in me it struck fear,
To know within a year, this journey's end would be near.
Nothing is ever beautiful because it lasts,
But if I had one wish, I hope you are not my ghost of tomorrow's past.

Her name is Chun Li and she first appeared in Street Fighter II.
Don't make this woman angry or she'll beat the hell out of you.
Many people make a comment that embarrasses her and her face turns red.
They tell her that she's supposed to wear her bra on her chest instead of her head.
Chun Li studied Martial Arts for several years and she sure does know how to fight.
And if you have any drugs, she'll steal them because she likes to get higher than a kite.

I have no idea what I should do with my life anymore...
and that depresses me.

I don't know what ambition an or integrity means anymore...
and that embarrasses me.

What should I do next?
and that's the question that still haunts me.

the world only stops
when she is the right one
it only dances
when she will steal your heart
the world only cries
when you are about to lose her
the world only smiles
when she is smiling
the world only laughs
when she embarrasses herself
the world only screams
when you two are fighting
but the world loves her
so so much
the world appreciates her
you should too
before the world cries forever

When she steps onto the streetcar,
the passengers feel judged.
In this, for an instant all strangers are related.
A woman may offer her seat as if the pregnant woman were ill.
A man may sigh a nervous laugh to himself.
Standing near her, he can hear the other music of her body,
and it startles and embarrasses him:
his animal-self is waiting for signals from her
that his cocksure instincts can ordinarily understand.

Because few men celebrate the blood of another man’s child,
or cherish another man’s seed.
The root of his brain tells him: There must have been a chance:
There is always the chance it could have been me.
The loathing defeat of it that it wasn’t …

He turns away and looks out the window,
his hand a quivering fist at his mouth
as he chokes on his lust.

“Hurry, come in”
he said at the door,
The Jehovah witness never heard that before,
Anxious to carry on “God’s plan”,
He never noticed the blood on his hands,
Not till he notice the drops on the floor,
How this would go,
No one was sure,
“Okay”,
Said his host,
“I don’t believe...that God is here or he loves me”
The witness nodded,
"I understand...May I go and wash my hands”?,
“No, not the bathroom…….”
“The kitchen, please...That room, really embarrasses me”,
The witness said,
"I'm embarrassed too, I don’t know if he loves me or you"!
The host replied “Do You know…..what I've done”
Are you judging me?
Are you having fun?"
“No, I am too selfish”
The witness confessed,
“I don’t really care about your mess,
"I can still hear her cry..."
"I tore her dress..."
"But she had such a pretty mouth,"
"No, you should never judge....
Or let strangers into your house”
©B L Costello 2019