There just isn't enough febreeze
to rid the room of the haze
Of a dog ****, strong and silent
It kind of puts you in a daze

It kind of sneaks in, then it hits you
An olfactory h-bomb in your face
Meanwhile, he just lies there
He's wiped the room with **** mace

There is no middle ground here
They always smell like something died
Like he caught a squirrel in the garden
Now, it's rotting his insides

Dog farts, are a weapon
That our army has not used
In fact I told them in a letter
In their reply, they were amused

"We've tried to duplicate it"
"A killer weapon... stops the heart"
"But, our scientists just aren't able"
"To reproduce a strong dog ****"

"Thank you for your consideration"
"We'll let you know, if we succeed"
"We agree with your kind letter"
"dog farts escape and then they breed"

Sometimes when a dog farts
It makes a noise, he turns around
"my god, I smell incredible"
is the look comes from my hound

So, if you've never smelled a dog ****
And your dog just sneaks one out
Do yourself a favour
Do not feed him brussel sprouts.

i want to get to know you.
i remember thinking that when i first met you.
i wanted to get to know everything about you.

what you look like in the morning, what you look like at night, what your hair is like if you jokingly put it up in a towel, what your family is like, what words you use a lot.
what your favorite scent of febreeze is, what color you describe the sky as, what you think of when you see something beautiful.
what your favorite creamer is to put into your coffee or if you even like coffee, what you look like at 2am when you're feeling alone.
how you speak when you are angry in comparison to when you are sad (so i will never get the two mixed up), what you want as a tattoo, what you believe in.

i wanted to know everything that i could fall in love with.
and i learned that there is no one else i would rather know, than you.
because absolutely everything about you is intriguing, from what you look like in the morning to what you dare to believe in.

she wrote me a letter, scented
of perfume
I no longer had my third biggest
budget bill
the plug in air fresheners and
Febreeze
by the gallon,  no longer needed.

And, about then I got this Email,
invest
in the US Postal Service, the stock is at an
all time low.
So now I am much richer, more wise,
conscious
of the future again, it is smelling sweeter!!
I have
the emailed  stock certificates to
prove!

I re-invested all those savings wisely.
awaiting
the dividends. When I sit vicariously, pouring over my balance
sheet,
I find Olde English and cigarettes have
risen way to the top of my budget the
empty
cans are my top asset! I
smile
at my luck, almost like winning the
Lottery!

Magic is in the air
When the delight spreads
But even then,
Febreeze doesn't do all it says.

You’re the reason for my favorite poem,
why I buy extra-strength whitening toothpaste,
the best part of Mondays.

You’re a showtune in the shower,
my pre-slumber what-if,
and also the best part of Tuesdays.

I worry that you notice
when my shoes smell bad
so I bought the expensive kind of Febreeze.

Smell the air; he fails.
His mother will be home.
Scrape burnt chocolate into the trash
and spray Febreeze.
Bloodshot eyes
and goodbye Mary.

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

How much of what we use, is really what we need
and how much do we buy, to feed someone elses greed

We used to open windows and now we buy febreeze
then wonder why the allergies make everybody sneeze

Our homes are airtight boxes, like live-in tupperware
And yet most of us are ignorant to what poisons linger there.

We've been told that if we buy this stuff and do things in this way
Our lives will be much better, than they were just yesterday.

But yesterday the air was clear and you could hear when Robins sang
How did we ever get this far, without ylang ylang?

The money I'm saving on Christmas this year
will be incredibly useful for buying more beer
I'm not buying presents for family and friends
But this festive season I will be making amends

I'll never shop early for presents to give
I swear on my mother, for as long as I live
For while looking for boxes and our Christmas tree
I found boxes of presents from seventy three

All wrapped up and labelled in a box all alone
Hidden by an old blanket that was haphazardly thrown
Beside it, more presents from around eighty four
And as I kept on searching I found many more

There were presents for Grandad, who is now pushing daisies
And a few for Aunt Marg, who we all know was crazy
Gifts for the children, who now have kids of their own
In fact almost all are for children who've grown

I found a few that were given from Santa himself
And a few for my husband on an old wooden shelf
All wrapped up and labelled and dusty as well
I'd febreeze them downstairs to get rid of the smell

I promise from now, I will write down what I hide
And I'll draw a small map to use as a guide
I can't wait now for Christmas to see what we've got
From all the Christmases past, and the gifts I forgot!

Billowed and pasted, rollicked and wasted,
the night takes hold and Samantha, you remember her,
she's smoking again. This is her last pack though.
Drinks poured. Drinks spilled. Kate and I are talking
like people with scheduled late afternoon love affairs. There's
a car alarm going off in the distance. I love this blouse. Is it new?
No. It looks new. I love your perfume. You aren't wearing any?
Must be a natural—and the first to arrive at the party, Chris and
Evan, they're the first to leave, and we listen intently as one, or maybe both, tumble down the stairs. There should be waivers for second floor
apartment parties. Kate, you deserve so—I know. I know. You've got this light. Jesus. I'm just saying. Is it radiant? Yes, it's radiant. And they're lighting their drinks on fire now in the kitchen, some concoction of amaretto and 151 and a kickback of Coors. The flames reflect in their eyes, their cheeks a soft amber, and most of them are smiling, not sincerely, but when was the last time you could give yourself over completely to joy? There's a siren in the distance. Someone says they're coming for us. I'm going to the bathroom. Do you need help? And there's this ceiling fan with LCD Christmas bulbs strung around the blades. A myriad of claustrophobic yellows and whites and blues. Have you seen that video of the ****** having a baby? And he brings it up on his phone. Someone says, Oh my god I love this song from the bathroom. I hadn't noticed the music before now. Drink this. What is it? You'll see. And Samantha she says she's got to step outside for a second. And someone drops a hookah coal on the beige carpet. There goes the deposit. There's incense. There's a Scentsy. There's Febreeze being sprayed liberally. Can you drive? Can you? Do you want to? You know? I've ate a lot today. The songs keep getting skipped. Parquet Courts, Michael Jackson, Lionel Richie, Chvrches, Miley Cyrus—wait, wait put on some SWIFTY. We're going to fire up in my closet if you want to join. It's a walk-in. Evan's back now. He kicks a mirrorball across the kitchen tile with Chris, who's also back now. Where's Samantha? She's smoking. She shouldn't be alone. You remember last—That won't happen again. I'm just saying. Well, you can stop saying. Sirens again. Closer. We're in the walk-in. Kate tugs on my sleeve. I take a pull off the bronze pinch hitter. Do little circles with my head. ****, she says. What? It all starts fading out, the rush of dark, the rush of light. Someone says trash can. Sirens. I'm just trying to—Shut up. I'm just trying to—Shut up.

I am from the outdoors
from Febreeze and smoked salmon
I am from the snow covered hills
and the ice covered lakes
I am from the crowded hockey rink
the cheers and jeers
and the season ticket seats
familiar and worn

I'm from hunting and fishing
from Stacy and Layne
I'm from the military
and bad eyesight
from " 'Merica!", "Let's get DOWN!"
and raps about vicious kitties
I'm from Def Leppard, George Strait
and the Beach Boys

I'm from Hacienda and Chili's
caribou sausage and moose jerky
From the fishing hook my dad
stuck in his finger
The collarbone my brother broke on the ice... twice

This is where I come from
These things are my past
and my present
But the future is in the distance
around the bend
beyond the horizon
And I am eager for it to come

In Room 204 of the Lancaster Motel,
I ease myself into the bath.
Music plays. It's the kind
of pan flute and finger-picked
guitar tune you hear over fuzzed out speakers
in grocery stores. I don't know the source.
The place smells of mildew
and cheap coffee and self pleasure
and Febreeze. I'm tired.
More tired than I've ever been, I think.
Do I still have a job? Until I call in to check, I suppose.
And I suppose this pocket knife will have to do.
I never seem to have a corkscrew on hand when
my mood calls for wine. I stab and jimmy the cork
until I can pry it loose with my teeth. A few
bits of cork float on the surface of the wine.
This does not stop me, nor slow me.
Pollyanna and I stayed in 206,
a detail that calls attention to itself, a detail that
longs for a poetic phrase,
yet I feel little other than the
dull thud of coincidence.
I remember asking her
before that first time if
she thought of *** as
a form or erasure or
addition. She said
both sounded nice.
And something
in the way she said nice,
led me to believe
she landed on an unspoken
third option.  I no
longer had an appetite for *** that evening,
but we acted on it to satisfy expectation.
She turned down the air conditioner,
and we laid there shivering and saying little.
She told me not to leave her.
I said I wouldn't.
I'm in the tub now and the bottle is almost empty
and all of this is so selfish and stupid
and I'm just doing it for the sake of habit
and sad sack poetry and ultimately
an "I-Eat-*****" consolation fedora in heaven. And I'm
self aware but the trajectory spirals against my will.
And my life entire burns a little slapstick,
so I get outside of myself--watch, enjoy.

Wow. I think to myself, its already 10 AM, i really wasted two hours of my life bullshitting on that pathetic website. But, it was nice to feel like i was doing the community a favor. That is, steering them in the wrongful path of someone that isn't myself. Ironically hysterical.
       I log off and shut my laptop as i take a sip of my coffee that was already cold. Ugh. I dump the rest in my kitchen sink and leave the mug there to be washed later. Procrastination at its finest. Reaching my room i search my closet and grab a dusty old t-shirt and a pair of joggers. Tuesdays were cycling days as well as working out at the rec with my buddies.
       Running close to 50 I'm glad to say i stayed in great shape. Most people let themselves go. But not me. Of course, i would rather overpower my trophies, rather victims. Plus, the lean strong type of body attracts the younger woman. They melt away at the thought of a strong older man to care for them. A nurturing man, that is one mask i enjoy. Mainly because it gets me ***. Who can resist?
      I reach into the hall closet and pull out the bag of cat food. Hmm, almost empty. Note to self, buy cat food. Ares , meaning God of war, has been with me for about 2 years now. One late night of me sitting on my back porch i heard meowing in the back of my alley. So tiny and helpless, all wet and covered in mud. I took him in as my own.
        He pretty much keeps to himself, much like me. Perhaps, in such ways i am also like a cat, minus the sleep. Quiet, tends to his own needs, watches from a distance out the window searching for prey. Maybe that's why i keep him around.
        The sun shines bright enough making me squint my eyes all the way to my car. A classic 1969 ZL1 Chevrolet Camaro , V8 engine, up to 500 horsepower perfectly made just for me. Not compared to the camaros nowadays, complete trash if you ask me. Nobody appreciates the classic older culture but of course society changes everyday.
        About 30 minutes from Anytime Fitness, the gym that me and my buddies usually meet up at. Although, today i was attending alone. I had much tension to work out given the anxiety of the search for the killer going national. I had about two hours to spare until our cycling group was going to meet up. Perfect.
                Ah, the smell of sweaty ***** in the men's room, followed by too much of that Axe body spray being thrown around to disguise the smell. Yeah, because that works. They really should invest in some Febreeze if you ask me.
I approach my locker and put my duffel bag away. Really all i need is my water bottle and my pair of favorite headphones.
            Treadmills are the devil. Cardio is the devil in fitness form. But yet i never miss a day. The longest 20 minutes of my life. And that's just the warm up. HA. Continuing with my workout , dripping in sweat, i wonder if i too smell like a dumpster. Leg days are always the easiest for me.
           I approach the locker showers and quickly rinse off the stench. Of course, unlike these men, I engage with body wash and deodorant. Drying off my skin, i sit for a minute and realize i am just going to sweat outside some more once me and the boys hit the trail. How unfortunate. At least i wont smell entirely bad.
      
-----------------------------------------------------------------­--------------------------------
    
                Old Fall River Road , our favorite spot to cycle. Located in the all but famous Rocky Mountain National Park. We all enjoyed it because there was basically no traffic to be bothered by and not many people dared to walk the trail. Of course being 12,000 feet from sea level and a long curvy road with no guard rail to keep you from falling, who would want to? I do enjoy a thrill.
         Parker Anderson and Miles Lawson, two of the best sons of guns i could ever meet. Parker was a real estate agent and actually sold me my house. That's how we met actually. Somehow we bonded over our love of shooting guns at the range, fishing and of course getting drunk. Occasionally every Friday, we head out to any local bar, grab a few brews and just relax. Talking **** and picking up girls, our two best qualities.
           And than there is Miles. He's about 5 years older than me but his features show him younger. Must be ******* nice. He's married with two kids well off in college now. He was a friend of Parker's first before i ever got introduced to him. Overall great guy with a wicked sense of humor. Wicked enough for me.
           Parker approaches me first with a handshake and Miles with a casual nod.
  Parker  -  " Yo, what's up bud? Getting bigger I see."
  Miles -   "Yeah from jacking off I bet" ,as he grins and chuckles.
   Parker - " And? Nothing wrong with that."
     " Alright guys, y'all done? I'm ready to hit this trail." I say. Honestly i just didn't feel the need for gossip. Keeping up with my mask of a social life was tougher than people make it seem.
    Miles " Yeah yeah just don't want me ******' on you. Alright let's go, my wife wants me home in time for dinner at five. Who the **** has dinner so early? I'm going to be hungry within the next two hours."
    Me-    " Bro, you're literally always eating. I don't know how it hasn't caught up to you."
    Parker - " OK boys, enough chit chat. Let'***** it."

        We really should have thought this through. Colorado weather was roughly in the 60's nearing this time of year, but man that sun sure was something. Cycling our way up the trail gave us a moment of pure silence.
Building our stamina all the way to the top and then resting for a few gulps of water.
     " Nobody should have to do cardio more than twice a week, let alone twice a day."
      Parker - " Twice? Who you running from? The cops?"
      Miles - " Yeah right, i bet the cops would be running from him."
Well, they got that right. Either way made sense , but i just grinned.
  " I worked out right before i came to meet up with you guys. How you think I look this good? Not everyone can appear so young like Miles."
   Miles - " Jealous *******."

        We continue cycling down the path and finally reach the end after about two long hours.
       "****, I don't know about y'all but I'm burnt."
      Miles - " Oh **** me, its already 4:25, at this point and all this traffic I'm cutting it close."
   Parker - " Tight leash, huh?"
      Miles - " My wife is always on my *** about something. Says I'm always out with y'all and not home. Clingy as ****."
" You know you remind me why i never did the whole married life scheme. Too much drama. And for what? Love?"
     Parker - " Ay, I still believe in love after all it's worth."
     Miles - " Well yeah, don't get me wrong I love her. Can't live without her, but **** does she get on my nerves."
     Ah, love. I experienced it once. I was in my early 20's , still fresh meat in the military, and met her when i was stationed in some tiny town up in Texas. She was the most gorgeous girl I ever laid eyes on. Met her at bar , actually. Can you believe she had the nerve to come up to me and introduce herself? I was in shock. Love at first sight.
      Of course , everything comes to and end and i was already being transferred to a different location. I had offered her to come with me and she declined. Said her life was here and she didn't want to be traveling around. She wanted stability and to be settled down. She didn't want me. I was devastated and left without saying goodbye. Last time i ever felt love.
       We continued to walk our bikes to the cars, on account of more traffic and civilians crowding it up.
        Miles - " Alright guys, I'm already late so catch up with you later."
Parker looks at me. " Okay, what do you say, wanna grab some brews?"
" Nah, let'***** it on Friday. Your boy needs to rest. This old age ain't no joke."
He rolls his eyes at me. " I guess. Just hit me up." And he climbs into his mustang and jets off.
  
        Once I reached my house I quickly jumped in the shower, AGAIN. I heat up some leftover chicken from the other night and turn on the news.
            *" Local news authorities report the release of the suspected custody, Dave Anderson. According to his lawyers, he was released based on insufficient evidence. This means in fact that the Woods-bury killer is still out there. We advise you to stay safe and indoors. If you have any leads please feel free to call our hotline 1-800-1111. " *
      ****, i knew he would be released sooner or later. That just means the police are searching for the real killer. Me. Although, I wouldn't call myself a killer. I put people out of their misery. I save people who need it. If only they'd understand and let it go. After all , it was only 5 bodies. Might just make it six so i can have someone to pin it on.
        Killing is bad. Don't do it. What kinda monster could you be? Yet, people **** animals everyday with their famous hunting ritual. That goes unnoticed. We are carnivores, meaning we are hunters.
          Explain the difference between humans and animals and only one I can find is that we are 'civilized'. Ha. Civilization is some kind of simulation brought onto humans thinking we have some sort of control over our lives. Control. Authority has played a big part in my life, since i was in diapers.
     Parents tend to have control of their offspring. Until, the child reaches a certain peak that spirals into denying the control. Losing the main dominance in such a relationship causes arguments and such. I, on the other hand, followed my parents control. I knew my position and i played it quite well.
     On my 18th birthday, both my parents ended up passing away. Murdered while i was away with friends. Adulthood had an all new meaning. If this meant losing your parents, so be it. I needed structure but i knew i couldn't find it at college.
       Hello marines. I left with no chance to grieve. I grew into the person I became today.Being in the war so young taught me great value of certain things. I had nothing to lose except my innocence. I had control. Kills became that much easier. Fun, even. 20 years of living life on edge and I ******* loved it.
       Once i got out, the urge was still there. Festering inside of me.
I had to find a way to **** it, but the only way I knew was killing. Thus, hello Woods-Bury killer. Aka , me.

Fabrique en chine
Fabrique en chine
Tout allemange et un
Fabrique en chine
Tout le monde
Fabrique en chine
Ma soeur est
Fabric avec chine
Fabrique en chine.
Les Amis
Febreeze en chine
Le monde
Zut alors
Les mondes est
Fabric sont en chine.

With a whistle the beeper shrieks 6:45
once a day every day all today
blaring, beeping, beating
Stop! Breathe.

Steaming water hisses into the house
weighed down by romping kids
grabbing, grasping, gathering
always on the go.

I smother my day with febreeze,
and mix, stir, boil my life into simplicity
choking, gasping, breathing
Stop.
Breathe.
Go.

The day before the trip is one where I'm up early - like today.
I've got to go get my oil changed and have the fluids checked.
Next up is to gas up and fill the tires up to *****.

Take a break to relax and smell the coffee - medium roast - and a bagel with cream cheese.

Back at it withe the planning and the finding:
     A hotel to stay in
     The chains for the tires
     The clothes needed...
     The clothes I will sleep in.

It's all there and packed up, stacked up by the door.
Time to load up the car.
Tomorrow we're headed for the snow.

Empty the car first of all my junk and trash.
I can't believe how much has piled up and been left.
Maybe let's take out the floor mats and lets definitely use the shop-vac.
Spray in some Febreeze... a couple extra squeezes...
And then squeeze the Windex and wipe all the glass and surfaces clean.

Finally time now to lean the back seat down.
Toss in one bag and then the next.
Stack it, stack it, stack.
One more, two more, there's the last.
Close up the door, lock it, it's time for one more rest.
Tomorrow we're headed for the snow.

the rainy air felt cold against my cheeks
i was shaking so bad
when i lit my cigarette at first, i tried to sit on my bed and just leave my window open to the screen,
but the smoke greeted me in my room and hung around
so i opened the full window, and leaned all the way out
"**** it" i said, i sat on the sill and just let myself enjoy it
enjoy this last half of a cigarette, i had just gotten a pack on thursday
it was sunday they were all gone
i stuck my feet out and let the drizzle send goosebumps up my to my shoulders and a shiver to my toes
i couldn't tell what was smoke and what was my breath, but i kind of liked it
i pretended my hits were much bigger than they really were
the smoke got caught under my bangs and stung my eyes,
then i just let myself cry for a little bit.
eventually, long after i finished my smoke, i willed myself to climb back inside, febreeze my room to all hell, set out a cup of vinegar, and go to sleep.

I’d be a fool to think 
that it wouldn’t be problematic
to become emotionally attached to the
addict living on the other side of my apartment wall.

but worse than a fool;
I’d be a liar if I said
I don’t worry about him every single day.

I can hear your squeaky bathroom door shut, footsteps, drawer slam, microwave beep, hacking cough, door open when you leave for your hourly cigarette, door close when you come back, door lock, dry cough, music blasting cause you’re angry, t.v. on, light switch off.

and what I can’t hear, I can still picture, you lighting your pipe, your glazed eyes, you snorting, swallowing, dropping on your tongue; your wide smile, dimples, hair when it’s messy or pushed back; your tears, suppressed emotions, self-medication.

and what I can’t see, I can still smell, your distinct scent, **** mixed with tropical febreeze, 3 am chicken ranch pizza;
or taste, your lips, stale cigarettes, spiced *** on your tongue, fragile skin on your neck.

or still feel your silk hair, velvet skin, cotton bedsheets, the draft that leaks in through the AC unit above your bed, your touch, heartbeat, spine poking out of your back, cold shaky hands, heart drop, goosebumps, heart skipping beats, sick stomach, butterflies, my cold shaky hands, anxious worry, your words, the absence of your hand on my side…

the absence of you;
you as in the person I saw deep within those sap green eyes
in those moments I saw life in them for a only split second.
those few times you actually showed a human side of yourself;
a side of you that spoke apart from the drugs and beside the alcohol,
a side that wanted me.

I know I won’t be the one to save you,
considering that when I said
“I want to help you”
you replied
“I don’t need help” in-between sips of whisky,
before you took out out your pipe, pushed back the
vulnerable boy living inside of you
under debris of
methamphetamines, *******, liquor, LSD, etc….

how could I ever believe
that a boy lost in a dysfunctional version reality
could love me more
than he loves his drugs?

maybe next year I’ll live in a place
where the walls aren’t so thin
and I’m not in love with my neighbor,
or anyone who can love his bottle, pills, powder, and pipe more than me.

raised by a pack of cigarettes.
easier to quit--
tossed into a roadside ditch.
            •••

your attention span is horrible.
you just proved my point.
I still love you.
         •••

I'll be your empty glass bottle
collecting dust as you collect me--
you'll wipe me off someday
            •••

I miss the fresh air.
google searched fresh air,
ordered Febreeze.
          •••

I'm sleeping next to you
in the morning after
I'm that type.

It was twenty past two,
In my bed I was snoozing
Soon to be awoken,
Though not through my choosing

I needed to urinate,
I had to go and ***,
Not one beer before bed,
Instead I had three

Not that I was drunk,
Not even a little,
The issue you could say -
My wakefulness was brittle

I went to the bathroom,
Not turning on a light,
A lapse of judgement,
I'll admit in hind sight

My urethra had opened,
My ***** did ****,
But unfortunately my friends,
It was quite the bad miss

In the darkness I stood,
As I threw down a towel,
An action that ultimately,
Only led to a row

Apparantly this mopping,
And a squirt of febreeze,
Just wasn't enough,
To put my girlfriend at ease.

I have this crush
Who is refreshing as cascading waters falling off a steep cliff giving me an invigorating rush.
Making me blush, Just from every gentle touch.

I got him thinking his brain must have a leak because I hear and understand the words he doesn't speak.
He holds me closely to him like Im his favorite guitar
As he plays powerfully singing heavenly giving off frequencies and vibrations of how strong our love is as it travels distances near and far.
My heart is is hiding a secret its complled to tell.
As if he has it under a spell
He is the sweetest taboo
Possessing stronger power and better magic than the African's voodoo
Its a divine kinda of love from Man who is Hebrew
Its Authentic, Pure and True.
Like A yo yo I unwind as I plunge endlessly into the endeavours of his wonderous mind.
This place in his mind was beautifully unconfined.
I almost went blind after being exposed to that radient light inside that shined.
It sparkled like galactic milky way.
He had me intoxicated as if I was sipping on Chardonnay.
He really had me feeling some type of way.
My soul was lit by a flame that I myself couldnt tame everytime his voice would uttered my name.
Its ashame how it drove me insane.
He waters me as the Earths summer time rain.
The temperature swealters like the Summer's blaze with every single, "I Love You" Pharse that potrays his passionate praise.
The affectionate chocolate kisses puts my mind at ease like the light wind blowing on my skin during the summers breeze
He makes my thoughts freeze like the chill of winter that nature's nose sneeze.
His fragrance smells like Hawaiian Febreeze
Like calgon he take me away like a plane flying overseas.
I escape off to my fantasy land
Where I am holding on to his hand
As I listen to the rhythm of his heart's beat and with him I slowly dance.
We become stuck in a trance of romance
Star gazing at one another looking starry eyed
Feeling the pits of our stomachs full of butterflies
Eating each others vibes like my mama's homemade sweet potatoe pie
The atmosphere shifts quickly like the autumn wind blowing ever so swift
The ambiance is amplied as our intense feelings electrifies as if we were the fireworks on the 4th of July
The sparks fly
Lifting our spirits as they acsend Toward the blanket of soft white cotton filled clouds in the sky.
The rapid beating pulse in our sweaty palms tells me that the engery doesnt lie.

The Fire has been kindled.
We have by passed the physical
Entered into the mental
To explore the Church's scared temple
Submerging One another in the pool of love as if its a ceremony for our own secret baptismal
Letting love take contol
Getting lost in each others soul as we close our eyes willingly letting go.

You know those kids spritzing febreeze perfume,
Rollin' by, no curfew soon.
Shades on past the afternoon,
They have what they need and they don't need you.

We look at each others feet as we can hear the hums of this being over soon
Over me
Over you
Over the fact that I checked the boxes of chances you had.
No more room for the these checks
They are bouncing back,
To the same place
That you took my breath away long ago.

Ironic.
Because the same place I swept you away in my arms
Is the same place.
Were i just found my breath that I was searching for.
When I was looking for calming voice
For my breath fresh air
I found your febreeze like musk
Covering the fact
That your smell isn't welcomed
Your aroma of far fetched excuses.
And “give me another chance.”
On why you acted the way you were.

This what used to be us in this Apartment flat
puzzle pieces that used to fit oh so right
Now pushing away like two backwards magnets,
Stuck to the notion
Of packing my bags
And made sure that ****** door stayed closed.

if anything like me
you tire of chasing your
tail around the table

if you are like me
at all you smell , occasionally
your own and bathe

or Febreeze, if
you are crazy, like me
in a good way

you write stupid ****
remove it when you
come down,

if you like just saying
hi, or smiling at every
passerby, you and me

can have a drink
together, I am buying.

the focal point of integrating into
english society
is learning how to have comic
value via sarcasm...

    bananas are gay!
               what?!
                                    they're bent!

show me a straight banana...
      i don't mind abnomartalities
in other fruits or veg...
  sure, cucumbers are straight,
and gherkins are bent,
   sickle, communist, islamic,
                             crescent moon...

wait, wait wait a minute,
  i thought you asked me to incorporate
into your culture?
   don't get the joke all of a sudden?
   can't be english then, even
if you're english...

  oh right, not enough *** / whiskey
running in your bloodstream...
go into the toilet and puke some kebab bits
out... i'm going to have another
shot with this cossack friend of time...

shore ahoy! "tipsy" sailor!
       in the gutter of a ******, or kissing
the ropes with a ****** loverboy...
  ****, the planks float, ****'s fine with me,
just don't you try to get it in my face,
i'm cool with it coming near my shoes...
but that's the limit, matey.

once again,
   show me a straight banana,
   and i'll show you pear curvatures in
an apple,
    and a mohican on a pineapple's tip
that's frizzy-afro hedgehog punk.

******* bonkers *******,
    you'd get more febreeze cool
   shouting: torro! torro!
      at nothing more than your own shadow
impressed against a brick wall.

- yo! brin'g'ah m'eh a'h boo'ket 'oath a'h
    tick-tack-toes!
- huh?
- t'oh-m'ah-twos!
- tomatoes.
- y'ah tum-tums.
- yeah, because a bunch of tomatoe throwing
   spanish freaks will **** that bull,
   when the toredor's blades didn't.
- mon!
- wha'?
- shee won' b' e noo'veil...
- **** me, i wasn't into hemingway anyway,
   the guy fish merlins off the coast
   of cuba, for all i care;
    i'd too take to a death in the afternoon,
    his finest "book",
    a shot of absinthe in a flute of champagne;
    i swear i almost mentioned veal.

I'm going to have a hard time cleaning up this mess
sorting out the bedsheets and pulling the mattress topper back into place,
throwing out the takeaway we were too drunk to eat

the febreeze won't hide the sweat and rotten food, not very well

my little den of hedonism feels empty without my love to share it with
without his arms around me, without his cologne,

I feel unclean in the morning-after mess

When I drink wild air,
I think of you
Swerving cars and yellow lights,
I think of you
The rings of smoke coming from the vape,
I think of you
Big fluffy white dogs and black jeeps,
I think of you
Febreeze and packed bowls,
I think of you
Losing at pool and being alone,
I think of you
Hating this place and wanting to escape,
I think of you
Wanting to feel numb,
I think of you
When I think of me,
I think of you.

dog sits

black fur wet

wafting odor

I spray

Febreeze

Just give me
A twelve pack
Olde English
A carton of cigarettes
A working lighter
And 3G data connection
A big bottle of febreeze
Ramen noodles and water
One roll of Scott's tissue
I could be a recluse
And probably write a poem
That made sense.
Maybe I'd run off with
The mouse
Never to be heard from
Again.

pride can be embittering
uncontrollably jittering
lights on full blast
discos chronically
comfort on the pedastol
choke safe but stay at ease
hold yourself up by your knees
authentic self stays hostage
safe and sound

outer layer of mould
let it seep in
right to the core
see, your ego is not all of you
nonetheless, a part of you
so keep it away from virus
and disease. use febreeze
otherwise you metamorphosise
the pandemic, the contagion of disguise