For years I have known only you.

You, unfaithful lover, mutilated monster, blood-******* fiend.
You, walking cadaver, trash-filled ocean, rotting mouthful of cotton candy cavity.

I felt you first when their faces filled my mind with nuclear lies.  We walked the halls, hand-in-hand, eyes fixed on the laces of our shoes, desperately searching the cracks in the floor for our hollow reflections.  Together we were like widowed spiders, catching unsuspecting bugs in our twisted, silkened webs, and draining their insides for our own selfish use.  We were run-down strippers and streetside hookers, needles shared between haggard addicts shooting up MAGICDUST in blackened midnight alleyways.  I twisted my fingers with yours, knelt before thick lines spread upon deceitful mirrors, lies threaded between rolled bills.  I spoke your name before tornados and blizzards, blindly hummed your song in the presence of serial killers and wild felines with frothing, razored teeth.

For far too long I felt your wrath.

You, loaded shotgun, CLICKCLICKBOOM.
You, pointed blade, silvered hair, bloodied sheet smeared with scream.

I danced with you on wires of barb, 12341234, licked clean the wounds you salted with poisoned defeat.  I shot your arrow from a rusted bow and laughed, cried, prayed for the ****.  On weathered crags where nothing grows we testified our right to life, dug the graves of sinners and murderers, liars and thieves, then threw ourselves inside.  Six feet deep.  Like zombies we emerged, hungry for throbbing hearts and wrinkled lobes of brain.  Like hunters we searched, scouring mine fields and sunken ships for our hidden souls.

Many nights I succumbed to your power.

You, thick leather belt lashed upon my back.
You, vicious, vindictive virus pulsing thick through my veins.

I've tried to lead you astray from your destruction.  I threw you from marbled balconies and left you behind in dense, overgrown forests where I knew not my way.  I fed you to flesh-hungry pirhanas and strangled you in my clenched, white-knuckled fists, trampled your face with spiked heels and had you sleep upon hot coals.  Yet still you found your way to me, followed the trail of trembling hands back to my door and hid in the corners of rooms and the pages of books, waiting for your next attack.

From you I have learned.

You, wolf in wolf's clothing, howling at my moon.
You, filthy fox of the slyest breed.

"Infinity" What comes into your mind?

Some say they see gray hair, rocking chairs and old worn-out clothes.
Some would say they'd hear church bells, vows, they'd see rings.
Some say they see it through the eyes of a mother, conceiving an unborn child.
Some say they see it in stars, so wide, so vast, so distant, immeasurable. Too far.
Some see it in uncertain future time.

But when asked, "What do you see in infinity?"
I'd smile and answer.  

"I see cold coffees, I see dinner dates, I see your smile, I hear our laughs, I hear our favorite songs and I once again feel that impalpable comfort I find in your voice.
But,
I also hear your good-byes, I hear your costant apologies, I hear my muffled cries in the middle if the night and I see those unsent letters I should've given you a long, long time ago."

Sad but true. That's what I see. But maybe, that was our own infinity.

Maybe some infinities aren't just as beautiful and worth telling as others,

Maybe some infinites are larger than other infinities,

Maybe ours lingered on the corners of that restaurant where we met and stayed on that streetside where you left,

Maybe our infinity, ended a long time ago, long before we decided to let it go,

Maybe your infinity and mine meant to go on parallel lines,

But, maybe infinities aren't meant to last, cause maybe true infinity comes when you don't have to question "How long" but "How real"

little boy wanders through the cold dead town
he doesn't know how love ever let him down
like leaves in the wind we all blow away
and little boys wake up to another empty day
little girl in blue jeans and her cowboy hat
doesn't know much but knows where she's at
leans over and brags that her daddy's in jail
says she sends him letters in the US mail
old man on the curb got nothing to lose
runs his mouth a lot but the act's all a ruse
he's been through life he knew the beat
burnt it all to gain a streetside seat
momma on the corner's fourteen years old
the high point of her story's already been told
she had her dreams and her talent but that's all gone
the sun set on her life before she had her dawn
they call it "people" and show the faces on TV
name it culture and a new way for men to see
but not in the reflection of the mournful eyes
there's no joy in the echoes of their sighs

How in love with you am I?
Really, I sometimes question why.
Well, I'm not sure on how much I do
But I sorta have some kind of clue
For starters, I can't stop thinking about you
A thought of you is never overdue
When I hear music, I remember you
Cause I sometimes think it's your kind of tune
When I see flowers on the streetside
I have this urge to have you by my side
When our hands would simply touch
It made me want to hold your hand so much
Every word you say I can still remember
Like me and the lyrics of the song "September"
Oh how much I want to give you a hug
But I'm afraid that you might give me a smug
You're one of the only people I can trust
It's like having you around is a big must
So.. I'm not so sure these feelings kept in a cluster
Are more that what a normal man can muster
So If you ask me how in love am I with you
I might probably say.. "I don't know. I just do"

on gray hard streets we pounded out our youth
amidst tightly knitted cobble stone pathways
and shining windows always kept clean
struggling strong immigrants far and wide
teemed fruitfully through long days
and playful front stoop games
ring a leeveo and johnny on a pony
stick ball, jax and my favorite skellzey
mostly happy but deadly too
many ways of speaking were spoken
cultures clashed but soon subsided
in quiet civility and tamed calm
that all efforts would bring ahead more
bright days and simple luxuries
a streetside chat... a day at Orchard Beach
breezy stroll through Crotona Park...
a picnic by water's edge and maybe a hooked flounder
pale afternoon sun would blaze firey red at sunset
then pink and purple painted effortlessly
across our sleeping skies
we longed just for friendly pushing around
flirting with the girls when the nerve came up
and smart challenges of who could do what
when and how
for then that time, our time it was
all just a dream a day and the glories
of growing up...

The gods are sick of being gods,
So they slink away into dark alleyways,
And underground clubs,
Zeus drinks his worship from a cracked martini glass,
Artemis is locked up in some grimy jail cell,
Somewhere outside of the city,
Blood on her knuckles,
From the drunken streetside brawls, she incites,
If you were to go to a ***** little club on 55rd street,
Hiding in the smokescreen of darkness,
You'll find a saddened Apollo,
All burnt wings,
Scorched by cigarettes and whiskey,
This city's salvation isn't found in a holy temple,
It's found in the bottom of a champagne glass.
Moths flit and flutter around buzzing streetlights,
The air is thick with smog.
Aphrodite is awake again,
Drinking alone in the hotel bar... again,
she has eyeliner and mascara ringed around her eyes,
Left there from a one night stand she was already regretting before it had even begun,
One timid smile from the bartender and they're up on the rooftop,
Sharing a cigarette and naming the constellations after his signature cocktails,
Welcome to The City Of The Gods,
This so-called " heaven " is crumbling at the feet of these deities.

Could they have known, their chin’s tilt angled high,
At towers that grew to cast a twilight gloom
Unbroken by the sun’s slow chart ‘cross sky,
Fluorescent shopsigns starring streetside flume?
Flux and stasis flowing through their time,
They held against the ticking clock or bomb;
Strobing, flickering, dimming down a crime.
New buildings bloomed, with holes cut in their side,
For dragons peering for a South Sea gain,
Crouched high on boulders, astride mountainside,
Sun sparking on the dragon’s mark of Cain.
Though dragons loom and shadow out the light,
The Fragrant harbour’s lustre blazes bright.