Sitting in the waiting room
I see the people kneel.
From their knees they pray
for sins they have concealed.
Their brothers and sisters,
and mothers and fathers,
and daughters and sons,
grandsons and grandaughters,
grandparents too
and they look with their
puppy dog eyes
right at you.

Sitting in the waiting room
I see the people squeam
when bad news bursts from
doctors mouths. “This is only
a dream,” they say,
Vocalizing how their hearts
have burst and will
keep
sinking
and
sinking
and
sinking
until
the
day
they
die.

Sitting in the waiting room
I realize that I do not care.
For the dozens of people
in here, or the patients in there.
For the brothers and sisters,
and mothers and fathers,
and daughters and sons,
grandsons and grandaughters,
grandparents either.
I can’t help but be here,
only for you.
Only
for
you
and
me.

In this world you've tried
kept M'onsters you still hide
Memories stuffed in closets tight
out still oozes M'onsters' slime
turning the night to wasted rind
and running circles in looped time

'We're all so very tired', they say
but with lights on they lay
'cuz in the dark is when you memories play
and nightlights 'on't work to keep'em at bay
so with bright lights they lay
hoping your M'onsters stay away

M'onsters 'll stay as long as they choose
but I've got a lock to keep the door closed
a touch in a latch and a demeanor so soothed
that no M'onster can squeam its' way through
So dim the lights and let my shining love prove
and consider those M'onsters properly shoo'ed

Here it comes again
--the acid creeping up my throat
Reminding me that the motion I perceive with my eyes
Does not coincide
With the motion of my mind.
The fluid in my ears, I find
Being steered by forces hidden behind
A curtain blinding my sight.

When I was six, the sickness would hit
When I was in the backseat going down winding streets.
The pain, I claimed, came from my jaw
But it wasn’t long until they saw
Splattered across the back bench of the car
--I was motion sick.

As a teen, cleaned from this curse,
Steering the machines that once made me squeam,
I thought I was free.
Until vertigo creeped into my seams.
Clear sight, but a spinning mind!
A crystal displaced in the skull behind my face
Would trace every turn through, as if it was reality who had forgotten to move.

Now nausea creeps in again as my mind perceives a reality that once again, my eyes can’t see.

All of my hopes
and dreams

so real to me…

But when my eyes look out to reality, they are nowhere
to be
seen
And it makes me feel
So
Nauseous

Moments of what to feel
Consume my brain,
Dissipating my pain
Along with the whispers from my heart..
Is this real?
My heart shouts yes
But my mind can be depressed
And it causes me to stress,
Sometimes it won't rest
Sometimes it will push you to the test

Ridiculous it may seem
But people can be so mean.
Yet, your kindness doesn't make me squeam
I believe you
When I am with you, I don't want to scream
My mind is suddenly at peace
For your touch brings me ease

I know your mind wanders
It brings up times of bothers
Your heart is aching for you to listen
Mine is patiently wishing
hoping your anxieties don't overcome your heart
For I see no reason to tear us apart
A connection so magical it makes us scared
Questioning if either of us are prepared.
Hoping we'll always be there
But something in my gut says we'll never tear

Your eyes leave me mesmerized
I could stare at you for hours
Without any urge to cower
Your arms keep me safe
You fill me with confidence
And not rage

i see no worth in acquiring the hours
of the night without
chancing to denote, to account
for a milky-riddled sweet tooth
of a moon's sheen...

once i grew out of "lactose intolerence"
of a mother,
came the behemoth transgender
bride... and this...
vishnu ****** squeam of holy body
traffic stoppage...
the cow...

these hours: how feeble these gradations
and all those cul de sac excuses
of patience: when the pyramid
is that's to be built
and to... "somehow"...
overshadow the mountain...

closely related to an interchange
of a single letter:
to build - verb impetus and
a spirit of the times, build!
and to have built -
have you too a yawning past?
to: thus progress with a dream
a night keeps this...
bedbugs and psychiatrists away...

always the wild assumptions...
from no beginning
to the currency of: now...
and tomorrow...
my forced usher presence of:
whimsical and...
all the less true...

i am not left with the cohort
of leftovers...
but then...
i did have a dream where
i was happy having wedded you...
obscurity of meaning:
with what is readily available...
no token of bargaining
a waiting game...
to wait is to hardly live...
but... then again...
to wait is to elevate the stature
of death in that:
it comes... better for the waiting
folk than those caught:
"unexepcted"...

it's never about me but i like to find
myself being: suspicious...
perhaps even prone to believe in
ghosts and...
tier above:
to be jealous above being merely
pedestrian suspicious...

anything but this...
apathy -
this... grey-area for the membrane
twitch of all medicinal diagnostics
of a welcomed pathology...
i.e. a-: "without"...
i guess being "free" from pathology
is a worthwhile concern...
to be with some variant attached...
even if it's faking it schizoid...

"faking" it being... only when the reality
is much worse...
but no one believes you to begin with...
the ill-fated... succumb...
and the lesser-evil of:
the knots of time that are to come...

if only Jerusalem was akin
to the fondness of my heart reserved for Paris...
if i only wanted to gather a: "return"...
if only Jerusalem was somewhere
very far from being akin to St. Petersburg,
or Cracow... or Prague...

but please... we can play the cyrillic game...
after we have stopped playing
the greek game...
we can retain the roman...
transition... of incorporating...
the letters within the framework
of the advances of the Huns,
the Vandals, the Goths...

let's be both historically cynical...
and infantile!
the span of the hebrew memory bank...
i equate to infantilism...
and if i am to "lend" a welcome word...
well... hell! why not?!
why shouldn't i also consecrate
my present now... as a bundle of
a past?!
and also see it as... a respectible...
genesis pointer?!