Dear Bri,

My therapist asked me if
I thought I should
Write you a letter for closure
I was confused and said no
I was done with us
Over it
That was a few months ago
I can see now
What she might have seen then
I am carrying a lot of anger
A lot of pain and resentment
Because of the way you treated me
And how victimized you painted yourself
As you shamed me publicly
All over social media
For "cheating" on you when
We definitely have different understandings
Of what constitutes cheating
And then you took it a step further
To spread your delusions about me
When we could've had a conversation

You shamed me so hard at the end
Because "you didn't even know me anymore"
When you clearly didn't know me at all
I told you when we first met
I do not want kids and
I never want to get married
And you were surprised
After year and a half
When you bring it up
And I tell you again
I do not want that life
You cried and said we would be nothing then
So I bought you a ring
I figured, whatever
If we were going to be forever
I might as will compromise
Something you didn't understand much at all
Especially when it came to ***

After we broke up
You wrote me a letter
In it you attacked me for
Never having *** when you wanted
Since you'd have it with me
When you didn't want to
(Something I was very unaware of
And extremely not ok with)
Apparently I should've done the same
But I didn't want *** if you didn't
I could've ******* myself if that were the case
I didn't ask you to do that for me
I wish you didn't
Because love isn't about *** frequency
It's more about communication
And honesty
And I'm not perfect at that
But I tried

When I sent you an article
About why I avoid ***
Due to a ****** assault
You got mad at me
"What am I supposed to do,
Just wait until you're ready?"
Yes.
If you respected me
Then you would

And when I talked to you about
My interest in polyamory
You didn't give me a chance
To even discuss it more
You immediately said no
And that was that
You said you wouldn't change your mind
Which I should have known since
When I became friends with
A member of the church do you dragged me to
(Even though I'm an atheist)
You were mad because they were poly
And you didn't want me "getting any ideas"
And when that approach didn't work
You claimed that my being friends with them
Conflicted with your friendship with another member
Because they were connected negatively through an ex
Because we can't have our own friends?

But that's exactly what I needed
Because you shamed me so hard
For the things I care about most
That I lost myself in us
I no longer existed
Because I was "too radical"

So you didn't really love me
Because you didn't know me
You loved who you made me
Or whoever you saw in your mind
And somehow you were surprised
When I decided to leave
Because of course you did nothing wrong
But I was suffocating
So I left to explore myself
And my potential polyamorous identity

But then you were willing to try it
You didn't want to lose me
So you said you'd try an open relationship
But
Only under strict guidelines
And if I didn't agree to them
You wouldn't try
You called it "compromise"
But there's a huge difference
Between boundaries
And rules
That's not how polyamory thrives
So I left.

And a few months later
We talked about it again
You gave me more rules
"No other romantic partners "
Which would've required me
To leave who I was presently seeing
Just to have *** with randoms
And commit emotionally
Only to you
But I also had to agree
To eventually move up north with you
Regardless of my own life aspirations
Because I never really mattered to you
Only the fake picture you had of me

And all of those rules
Occurred while you simultaneously
Shamed polyamory
And me for wanting it
Because "I just didn't want to commit"
It is "an abomination"
"Disgusting"
Just because you didn't understand it
Because you were afraid of it

You didn't understand me
But you "loved" me
And you were the victim
Right?
I'm not saying I'm not at fault
But you are too

Hometown girls
are real with you.
If they don't like you,
they'll even make their *****
look ugly;
pulling them in all the way
to the tops of their thighs
through their buttholes
and you can smell the stench
in your brain.

But when they let you in,
when they let you sit on their ears,
it's like warp-drive.

They smoke virginia slims,
because that's what their mom's smoke,
and the bags under their eyes
are filled with nicotine,
but they're pretty bags,
purses of flesh
full with the kinetic beauty of coal.

Hometown girls are mostly black,
mostly white,
fifty-fity,
but nobody's checking
and when they whisper something nice in your ear
it's colored with a microbrew
or a wheel of Jim Beam.

Sometimes they'll take you by the wrist
into the bathrooms;
sometimes they'll take your drink
when you're not looking
and smile when you catch them
with it on their lips.

But that smile is good even,
on par with a supernova
in its ability to crush
and make beautiful.


But most of the time,
they stand around
outside Casbah
and Motorco
--if they're bougie
it'll be West End--
in the middle of the night
under the porch of the sky
looking out with amber
slitted eyes
like cats,
their legs twitching thoughtfully
as they wait for cabs
and pick at the night.

Hometown girls
are ****/beautiful
because they'll watch your every move
from the gallery
out of empathy,
knowing they've been that ***** before,
knowing they've been that lonely,
knowing they just want to get drunk
and want to be around randoms
that aren't so random.

Up early as usually but this time with a mission to complete Halloween Costumes.
Not a pain free day most definitely, but have kids who rely on me to be a good mom.

Everyone has haters; the two faced, "your girls" wanting your guy or envy clothes style,
or randoms you never met, desiring your life, home or new car bought with hard work.

Most days what's posted on sites about me makes not a bit of difference in my world,
I ignore and move on with my life, know haters have nothing better to do than gossip.

No news is good news and nothing from my usual "Town Criers" saying "Guess What?"
One day got messages in text, "You have been labeled Babylon's ***** by Craiglisters!"

Not a "lol" nor "Roflmao" situation. Thinking, What in the world? and How in the world?
Me, Ms. Abstaining and they, who love assuming and posting drama without thought.

Their world; small town America and believers of truth in "all" internet rumors and media,
not willing to give benefit of doubt, once minds, so limited in thought, have been made up.

E-mail inquiries from potential employers I never met from destinations far far away,
asking and informing that person with such low morals shall never be part of their world.

Drama finds me and neither welcome nor do I seek it out, way too emotionally draining,
believer in live and let live, authored "Celibacy" poem to stop jokes made to my kids.

Who knew that trying for your dreams could bring forth bringers or illogical pure hatred?
Who knew that emotions of my children whom I love, would be affected by narrow minds?

After family conference and with full support, by the way, had to explain "*****" to son,
this mom carries on and still on second journey pursuing dreams and making realities.

If I give up dreams it will never be because someone posted bold faced lies on open forum,
it will be because I choose to do it with good reasons and those reasons are mine alone.

Pitfalls? Have been numerous. Will? Strong and still determined to see this through to end.
Tomorrow isn't promised and hear my dad say, "Daughter, go forth and let haters be fuel!"

As the ink stains the page
On this day
I pray that I don't stray
Away to another way
Truth in each and every step I take
Realities I create
Spread love
Watch me demonstrate

Cecily burned herself with cigarettes
& scratched herself all the time,
she even used razors
to etch ******-artwork
into her flesh,
so milky white.

She was the prettiest flower
in the bouquet &
carried the most robust spirit.
Her eyes reflected
ocean-hues,
sunlight glowed off
her chopped-hair,
an Eveready battery,
she never stopped.

Just a spit of a woman,
she had the biggest set of *****
that most men
could only dream about,
die for.

And it killed me to see
her get into these
self-destructive habits.
It always left me wondering
why such a cute baby doll,
this bad *** warrior-woman,
would want to create
such randoms acts of pain.

But then again,
the answer was in her eyes,
unspoken & blue.

a fistfull
a bucket full
a well full of dollars
take it from a building that is
well full of scholars

indiana curry
is very helpful
i ate it in a hurry
and now im well full

forceful
hateful
liverpool joe
trying to get a story straight for
doctor Foe

rightful
wrongful
bedford simone
you ate your mam on friday
and now youre all alone

From the foundations of manhood
I send you this letter.

Right now might seem the worse
But the end will be better.

I’ve longed for someone  
While we’ve been together

I’d try to do both
But I’m not that clever

And I know I said never again

******* with randoms
A friend of a friend

Lies on top lies
That **** never ends

But atleast this time
I told the truth like a man.

Got girls dragging me in every direction,
got me deciding who’s cool and who’s a distraction,
all these reactions to their reactions,
has me needing a recess to retreat from all this action,

but I guess that’s what I get,
for being one of the Main Attractions,
a magnetic poet with ******* stanzas,
dramatic romances and poetic patterns,

hey friend remember back when,
you’d act natural and things would just naturally happen,
instead of being in something that seems reused and rehearsed,
like all the world’s a stage and we’re all just actors acting,

hey friend remember back when,
we’d act casual and things would just casually happen,
as if these writings weren’t written in present past patterns,
as if I haven’t gotten bigger than any of those assorted Randoms,

with a bunch of instances of coincidences,
that are anything but random,
which has switched this kid’s position,
from being random to being one that’s obsessed on by randoms,

and it’s strange to say the least,
how this change has occurred in such a subtle fashion….

See she was my most casual stalker,
just wanting some time to share my space,
see she was me several years ago,
before all these changes in me finally took place,

she was a socially awkward Closet Genius,
the closest thing to me I’d seen since fame,
closed to most of the world which she felt was dangerous,
see she only opened up to me because here’s where she felt safe,

so I warned her of the Energy Vampires,
then wondered if she was one of those Vampire Dames,
you know the type that act all hyped,
then as soon as they leave you you feel drained,
at any rate I warned her to beware of those that stare,
and told her her soul is worth more than any amount of fame,
then excused myself from the entire situation,
because it was time for me to put on my cleats and return to The Game,

return back to writing these writings which wrote me to fame,
and I know it sounds complicated but really it is simple,
only requires a potent combination of mixing the answers,
with the questions in the middle of pros composed as riddles,

like,

how I’ve got girls dragging me in every direction,
got me deciding who’s cool and who’s a distraction,
all these reactions to their reactions,
has me needing a recess to retreat from all this action,

but I guess that’s what I get,
for being one of the Main Attractions,
a magnetic poet with ******* stanzas,
dramatic romances and poetic patterns,

hey friend remember back when,
you’d act natural and things would just naturally happen,
instead of being in something that seems reused and rehearsed,
like all the world’s a stage and we’re all just actors acting…

∆ LaLux ∆

New book available absolutely FREE, please give it a thumbs up here: www.scribd.com/document/367036005

A slave to the world
Putting hands to the girls
Now I'm thinking payback
Forget a Maybach
Unless you got money
It won't stop the lead
Your ego is the target
These ****** want you dead
With two to the head
From the smoking glock
I guess you didn't observe your time on the clock
You think it'll keep ticking
When it's been born to stop
That's why you need to be hip
But move is the hop
Embrace the 3 and let your form rock

let's just say i didn't like the voyeuristic aspect,
of being bang in the middle
of people's living rooms -
people's lives however glamorous or
atypical - best comparison is that
internet traffic is like a street -
passersby everywhere - but being an estate
agent bothered me - new mantle places emerged,
like in the days when one lucky person
on the street owned a television, and people
came round to watch the football match,
or when some pivotal speech was made...
but it just got to me... i started to think:
shouldn't privacy be more and more understood,
in a new (Kant was accused, imagine,
he was accused of being a spy) way we approach
intelligence? other people's lives are just
passable... including my own - plus the website in
mention got too much bad press,
in most cases the night of long knives was
done at random, at other times? proximity,
one person on the list i can walk to a pub with,
he walks his miles from one side, i walk the miles
from my side... we head bang in the middle
to the Eva Hart in Chadwell Heath...
he says Desboys, i says De-boi - parle(z)-vou(s)...
parle(z)-vou(s) Anglai(s)?
                                                linguistics uses the
complex symbols... i use the plain and simple ear
and optometry trick: enclosed in bracket
letters  ( ) aren't optional, they're dropped...
also called the Merovingian ß-shearing:
but nonetheless written for aesthetic reasons...
and for aesthetic reasons dropped from pronunciation.
so i said... let's choose 24 randoms and keep
them poetry junkies... at least they're not
showing me their living rooms and their mantle
pieces of family life in extremes that i know of...
plus they're the only ones that might appreciate
Gregory Corso's poem Marriage... or i just don't
know anything at all... but what the hell
is going on in that poem? constellations?
he's going to show a girl constellations?
there are only about 3 in the night sky i see...
the scorpion constellation, the big wheelbarrow
and the small wheelbarrow, and something resembling
a rhombus - so that's a maximum of four:
the theory is the universe is expanding...
i don't even want a Hubble telescope to agree with
that... better than colonising mars, i'd expand
by building a permanent telescope on the moon
like the idea behind the international space station...
the moment when science fiction overtook
actual science... people just keep imagining things...
i actually think the French are worse than
the English, even though the diacritical marks
are applied, at least the letters aren't dropped...
well, we have the town of Re(a)ding,
we have reeds and reading, re(a)d and red -
past participles applaud.

"Annie, can you get me another box?"

Anastasia's Mother sneers, finishing her last stick. Sure she heard it, that's why she's running up the stairs to their old town house's roofs.

There, she saw the Mother of her life, stood moderately at the edge. Although her Mom looked homeless, with messy hair and wearing cheap clothes, Anastasia still thinks she's beautiful. From her Mother's pale and dark shaded lips, the picture of her habitual smoking and to the bags of her eyes. Anastasia saw sorrow and humiliation.

"Another box? But isn't that the third one this week?" She questioned. The concerned girl stared at her wasted Mother who just huffed at the moment.

"Just do it, baby." Her Mother commanded. A sigh escaping from Anastasia's mouth as she nodded in full obedience.

"Alright, Mother."

She walked down the steps again, reaching out for money from her own wallet as she headed out.

The wind is pretty frisky this day. The cold air fogging up the populated skies as its getting darker in the entry of the night. The breezy air is tugging at her skin, hugging her petite body. She doesn't have any thick clothing or a layer, nor a jacket to support her now shivering body.

She went to quickened her walking, knowing that her Mother won't be staying up the roofs sooner and the cold air is truly bothering her.

Finally arriving at her station, she entered the shop and she went straight to the counter.

"A box of Marlboro reds, please." Anastasia half smiled, waiting for the counter guy to get one. Once handed, she waited for her change as a boy around her age went beside her.

"A pack of Camel light, please." The boy with raven locks said.

"One-second sir."

She stays patient. She went to look at the boy beside her again, only seeing him looking at her box then to her. She decided to brush it off as her change is handed to her. Anastasia exited the shop to only find that the skies had turned darker.

She turned her heels to the same path to their home as she went straight back to the house.

■ ■

"Don't tell him a single detail about me." Anastasia's Mother said sternly.

"I'll see you soon, Mother." She replied. As soon as she has the chance to leave, she quickly did.

Walking out the door, she pulls a cigarette out from a pack that she got from her Mother's. She calmly lights it up, though she makes sure that she's going to the right path to the Boat Station.

That night, last night, her Father called. Her Father told her to come by the Ocean. She loves things like this, admiring beautiful places at peace and just having deep thoughts about randoms.

Since both of her parents are divorced, Anastasia has to spend her time separately with them. Although her family background is broken, she still believes that quality time is important. Especially when you're the only daughter.

When she arrives, she saw a bunch of males hopped to a Downeast cruiser. She went for another stick of cigarette as she waits for the guys to settle the boat.

Once finished, she sees her Father coming towards her as another man followed him. Seeing her Father smile, she knows that he is happy to see her, happy that her daughter finally visited him again.

"My dear, sunshine." Her Father greeted with the widest smile ever. As they both embrace each other, she reassembles herself and stared to her Father's features.

He didn't change much. Twenty percent of his beard had grown, his skin also went tanner and his noticeable bags underneath his grey eyes is an evidence that he has been working hard these days.

And she felt her heart spun a bit, it's not breaking but it's pinching with joy.

"I've missed you, Father." She spoke, voice cracking and eyes glistening.

Her Father went to cup his daughter's cheeks with both hands and smiled. She felt the warmth and the love to her one and only man, and that is her Dad.

"My apologies. Anastasia, this is Captain Adamson, he's our new lead sailor." Her Father added as he introduced the man beside him.

"Please to meet you, young lady."

"You too, Sir."

She looked up to Captain Adamson, he has the same features like her Father's. Same dry skin, oceanic eyes, firm and sturdy smile and just a typical sailor could be.

After a little talk, Captain Adamson and her Dad motioned her to get to the boat. Once lifted and settled, she saw old men and only men in the small place. She counted them, and in her calculations, they're about six or seven. But something spotted her eye...

A young boy, around her age probably, is one of the sailors. It surprises her a bit because she once thought earlier, she was the only youngster around here. But yet, she's wrong, but was she glad?

Feeling their boat move, she went over the edge as she let her body sway from her moving grounds. It was sure such a wonderful relief when they finally made it to the water.

She went to ignore the people around her as she decided to be alone at this moment.

At the edge, she swam through her thoughts. Deep ones like the ocean whom about twelve feet fall.

She thinks that what if the ocean is harmful, a violence and tolerant to other people. Like when you fall, you have nothing to do but to drown through the steep and heavy surface. Although its water, she can still think its a huge burden to anyone's bodies.

Her fears hugged her, her anxiety embraced her as she thinks of this. It made her shiver, not just from the wind but also to the awful life she has. It made her cringe once, now she'll cringe forever.

Grabbing another stick from the box, lighting it up as she blows one. She let the tobacco smoke combines with the coastal air, she watches it and she somehow feels satisfied.

Tapping her right shoe in a tune, she also hummed the unspoken lyrics, feeling the rhythm. She sips and blows, sips and blows, again and again. It doesn't seem to end, though her Father has its rules. Nothing she heavily worries about because she knew its always a mild segment.

After the stick has reached its filter, she flickers the used cigarette from the running waters as she lets out a sigh.

Casting a shadow beside her, she sees the youngster staring at her with an unexplainable look. He eyes her up and down in a respectful way as Annie didn't make a single move.

"You know, a filter can destroy the ocean too." The boy speaks. Anastasia shrugged her shoulders as she grabs another stick.

"So." She coldly said, though the boy sort of expected this coming.

"So its trash, it's not good." She rolled her eyes to the boy. A silly conversation about Nature isn't the right mood for the day today.

"Nope. I am trash." She chuckled like she's some kind of a joker telling puns whenever.

"I like that, Miss. My name's Keith Adamson, the--

"The Captain's son, I get it." She finished the boy's statement as a small smile form on her face.

"You do?" He questioned, playing it all in.

"Yeah, that's why you're so talkative about the waters." She shrugged again.

"Right, but I'm sure I've seen you before." The boy guessed and it clicked her head quickly.

"From the convenient store?" She grinned, making Keith nod in agreement.

There was a moment of silence in between them, did she care nor did she thinks its awkward? No. She went to lift her box from her pocket and motioned the youngster beside her. In her surprise, he gladly took one as she offers a lighter.

"So, Daddy sailor business?" Keith asks, giving Annie a small nudge.

"Not really, are you often around here?"

"You can say that. But why did you come here?"

"I don't think you deserve to know."

Anastasia's smile turned into a smirk, feeling her words with power. What does she call it? Sarcasm? Probably, but therefore, it's just the based truth.

"Feisty. Just so you know, I only come here to help my Father. Sailing ***** but I enjoy the ocean, a lot." Keith babbled as it made her nod her head.

"Me too, but not when you're in it." Her voice went weak as she feels her whole body become numb.

Heavy.

Heavy.

Just heavy, all are heavy.

"What do you mean?" The boy asked again. She knew she wanted to tell him but she respects her own privacy. Maybe she can, in a more intellectual way.

"Like the waves, they're a big struggle in a person's body. When you drown, you drown, why keep convincing yourself to dive up when you know its already too late?"

At this moment, she thinks about her Mother, her Father, and just the tree family she used to be in. The happy, normal and complete people, she misses that. Their silly moments and the happy memories, she wants it all back. Now that its ruined, damaged, broken, well name it. She still thinks she's contented. Why? Whatever god knows why.

"The waters are so much sweeter if the waves wouldn't step further like a hurricane, you know?" She smiled again. She then turned to her right, she sees her new friend with a confused expression.

"Wow, too deep to understand aye."

The both of them started laughing. At some thoughts, she's glad that she met Keith. He's so much more, She thinks he's more of a something.

"Everyone, get ready to sail!" A sailor's voice rung around the companied boat as they both of them got alarmed.

"Ready to fight the waves, Anastasia?"

"How'd you know my name, little sailor boy?"

Anastasia is not surprised that Keith knew her name. Many conclusions collided to her head but one resulted among them all.

"May I point whom your Father is?"

Without second thoughts, she nods her head. And she knows for sure, that she's ready to fight the waves.

Wanna hang in the river
Wash away with the stones
I feel the sensation
Deep in my bones

******* in a paper bag
towel doubled as a rag
suitcase holding treasured randoms
and notebooks filled with cryptic tandems
very little ventilation
and an unclaimed mess that's hated
sacred corner on the desk
the rest a "collage:" a mess
mirror mirror on the wall
tells the truth, leaves me appalled
thin covering on the ground
worn where almost all is brown
hand-me-down pillow case smeared with liner
and the tears from last night's crier

I remember all the "chosen ones"
All the ones that caught my eyes
I recall all of the villains
And the classic "nice guys"
I remember all the Romeos
The seducers and wooers alike
I knew all the "we're just friends"
And "love you like a brother" types
I remember all the gentlemen
The ones who held the door
I'm branded by the cretins though
And made of me a *****
I remember so many of the talking boys
The ones who needed to vent
They'd knew I never slept at night
And converse until the blackness was spent
I remember all the heartbreakers
And those few that never left
The randoms that came sneaking in
The ones who thought they knew best
I remember the wishful thinking
And the craving to catch your eyes
I acknowledge the reluctance of letting you go
And at times I never tried
I remember the lessons
And I repeat the mistakes
There're so many fish in the sea
And I only have a lake
Please remember that I loved you
Or I did the best that I could do
And if there's a part of you remembers me
Just know my memory is perfect too

Loved starved and bruised. I still don't know what happens upstairs at those places. Mind and rough *****. Not getting up before two. The aches and pains of elevated age. Crispy fallen leaves. If something great before the winter. They got kids in cages and I don't know how to feel.

nineteen years young
absent all this time
then suddenly
my eyes are open

i've stopped looking
found you at last

all those kisses with randoms on a friday night
seeking validation and some kind of affection
or just attention seeking
looking for some kind of connection

nothing else matters anymore
this is a different kind of love
a love where my heart aches after a few days without you
making me smile
making me cry
making life worthwhile

i am finally safe

I knocked my insecurities off, I'm being authentic.

Futures can transform from fuzzy to fully vivid.

What would your dream mean if you decided to live it?

Is peace taken away or do you give it?

Isn't it easier to make your bed when the linen is fitted?

My corners don't hook up anymore, I'm finished.

The crime is more significant than the witness.

Remember when it was desired that no one could say "he did it"?

As long as they print it, I know they'll send it.

& I'm saving most of mine every time I get it.

Throwing pebbles trying to wake you
The moon light is dim tonight
I grab one more and it went crashing through
Splitting the glass like cracked wood
I quickly held up a boom box
To play our song
But instead the sounds of *** noises and moans slither through the speakers
Someone has switched my tape
Plan B a mariachi band tag along with me
Actually they were just three randoms I ran into on the street
So the piercing noise they're making has polluted the air waves  
Rapping your ear
All off tune
There strings ripping apart as they play
Neighbor dogs bay
I finally wave them off saving the day
Or the rest of this night
Now we're at plan G
I skipped C D E and F
Unless you want to see a synchronized dance I made to gone gone
With a hobo who seemed to have rhythm
But only when he's filthy drunk
But plan G will save me and this night
Ready to get off your lawn
The mosquitoes are starting to swarm So here goes plan G a symphony of notes coming from me
Aiming to sweep you off your feet
Hopefully you don't fall from your window
As I start to sing a breeze carry the notes
Turing it into a sweet tune
Dogs howl
Approving
And as you smile and stare
Your eyes shine in the moonlight like pearls
Giving me courage to sing to the heavens
I try to hit high note
My throat cracks and it comes off more like a quack
You laugh
I'm such a hopeless romantic

Tomorrow
we'll see what we see
and if Boris gets in
we may all be at sea,

'This won't affect the pound in your pocket',
said, Harold,
just before the arrow struck,

One Sunday I was praying that I wasn't pregnant;
The next I was saying goodbye to orphan kids,
   praying to help me change.
Now, to guilty to pick up a Bible,
To guilty to pray a prayer,
I am asking that I am not pregnant again.
This world will toss and turn you,
it will hurt and bruise you.
I have learned the only refuge is God,
The only forgiveness that is pure is Jesus' blood,
and the only way to talk to them sometimes is through the holy spirit groans.
I loved who I was, I love who I have become.
But the guilt inside from the past few months...
its eating me alive.
I don't want to be worried about pregnancy from randoms;
Nor do I want to waste my time thinking of guys anymore;
I'm done with the outfit of a really fun girl,
its time to grow up,
its time to move on.
I know what I want in life, I just need to strive.
I know who I want in life, I just need to stop messing around.
When you travel to a place that changes your life,
it first changes your skin:
   You get tan and work hard, you learn what it is to want for food, and long for God.
It then changes your muscles:
     You grow a little tougher when the boy was taken from your arms and given back to his abusive father.
It sinks into your bones:
   You start to realize the life you are living is worth nothing if you don't start to change something.
Then it creeps, slowly to your heart:
    You feel guilty and half of you wants to change, but your brain is still stuck on the "fun" you are having.
Life is simple, love and be loved,
but honey, when you live the life I live,
Love takes on a new meaning, its tougher than what you'd think.
Its more complicated than the four letters that make it up.
But, its still here, waiting for me to open my ribs, and absorb it all.

I don't care if you're fat
I don't care if you're skinny
You can eat whatever you want
If that's what makes you happy

You don't wear any make up
But that's the best thing about you
I like you as yourself
But you just don't have any clue

How I adore you so much
And wanted to see you each day
Oh! How can you be so stunning
With your very simple ways

You act so funny in randoms
Even if somebody's watching
It's shameful when you do that
But it's really entertaining

I know you're brainless sometimes
And taking too long to decide
You can't tie a shoelace properly
And can only cook in fried

But it's the simple things you do
That I can never get enough
You're everyday that I think of
But kept denying that it's love

I had a dream about you yesterday.
It was of one of the nights we came back from the bar
Tipsy and making stupid inside jokes about the Spanish word for Oranges

The only reason I know it was a dream
Instead of me reminiscing in my sleep
Was because when you lit your pipe,
A piece of opal carved from the heart of the earth
My room melted away and turned to the night sky
With us sitting on a patch or grass yet to exist staring at it
You light some greens
And a the sky pops and lights up in response.

The purple lights turn to red and green streaked tenderly across a Christmas tree
In a home I've never seen, yet never felt so familiar with

The windows are frosted with snow and ice
Mountains and forest views buried under a peaceful sheet
You're opening presents.
A gasp fills the air and you start crying tears of joy
Another lighter flick

It's spring
I'm holding your ring speckled hand in my right
And the steering wheel to a car I've never seen in my left
Blasting songs with brief quiet intermissions to tell each other stories
Small streaks of grey dart across my short hair and you can't, or won't stop staring at me.
It's nice.

Another flash from the lighter
We're old and at a park
And still act like we're still trying to win the other over
Laughing and talking about the old bar
And roasting randoms from the bench

A final flick
I'm in my room again
You're staring at me and I just realized I've been looking at you
With a distant glazed look in my eyes for at least a minute now
"Are you okay?"
I don't know how to tell you I'm prepared to spend the rest of my life with you
Or tell you what just flashed across my mind with a flood of emotions I never thought I'd get

Either from being way too high, or for lack of better words, I reply
"Yeah. Just uh.... Zooted."

so good that you can travel far
visit your folks. my day will come

meanwhile likewise we watch the
birds, the creatures

she said that they were pests as we
watched them dancing branch to
other branch

they eat the bird’s nuts she said
then she said she had gone non
essential shopping for her snacks
and nuts

james

i burned the hedge *******
it took most of the day until
i only smelled of smoke
which i rather like anyway

how is your son?

did you ever see the film
of the guy that drove his lawn mower
miles to visit his ailing brother

maybe look it up?

i like the italic up there and glad
you told me the form of verse made
of scatterings and randoms that are us

and put it forth toward them
only one replied

i hope they do not think me brainy
for i am not
i just see connections

how one event does not happen alone
in isolation
or slow motion
like a film
with everything else scrubbed away

james

where will this all end
will we all be able to
breathe again?

the sky this morning came dramatic
turned the room pink

may hang the washing out early…..