Elephants are my
favorite, but I
hate giraffes

I don't trust
the horns
on their heads

Or how they
coerced evolution
into upgrading
their necks, legs AND
tongues -greedy
little *******-

Just eat from bushes
or averaged sized
trees like a normal
******* herbivore

I need someone to watch
Grey's Anatomy with me.

The sea is my entity
These lungs are my enemy
I can’t breathe where I need to be
And sometimes I just wanna be.
Free.
Wayfaring on an endless surface
With no bends and turns, just currents
That blend with the ends
Of minds
Mine
Lines
Sunshine in your eyes
I really wonder if this world is safe enough
For silence loud enough to bake
your nerves
Into burnt parchments floating amongst the force
Of waves
We never said
If we loved sonatas,  
The nocturnes written on your wrist
Notes trailing from the shore
Seducing what we
Never were.
“Tell me to behave for you.”
Free minds
Free lines
Mine frees yours
Yours frees sunshine
And if I, Si je prends un moment
To ordain this Spirit of Time as regret,
Chances are I won’t see the Morning Sun
Chances are I’m a man without a home
Chances are the city lights sing me to sleep
Chances are devoid of what we need them to be
And what I need them to be, I know, I know, I know
That I didn’t think of you
As
Where I needed to be, I know, I know, I know
That I don’t think of you as
Anything other than the sea
Where I throw in vials of your
Meanings to me...
Empty vials of potentiality...
Things you will never see.

I used to have a little black book
Where I wrote this crap..
Out of sync with a flow,
Devoid of a rhythmic stroll,
Breaking centripetal circles
Like those long *** commercials..

Now I just write it in thin air and
Hope for nothing.

My eyes can only see so much.

She holds
Between her small fingers
The spliff she just lit to sit
In the spot where
Surreal is just as real as the reality
Engulfing itself in splits of seconds as she sits,
Spliff in hand,
Expanding Secretly,
The Universe where mayhem spreads
Meticulously,
Devouring stars and planets to each note played
Catalytically in tune to her riveting grace
Where
Lines of spiraling moments entail
A life of the
Darkest,
Shifting,
Twisting
Whispers of troubling
Shadows
Latching to the misty eloquence
Of melodies that sing the harmonies of her
Humming soul
Within a cloud of smoke
That stays imprinted,
Forever
Un-moving,
In the midst of my lungs and grows, and
As we sit under the sky,
The suns light cradling her so hauntingly
With her red lipstick and,
Soulless brown eyes and,
A voice like the soft ocean tides,
I realized what I realized when I first met her.
Whether night or day or
Through curtains where the light sometimes
Bleeds those artificial shades,
That...

I once sat here on my balcony
-around this time I think-
Writing songs out
Phonetically for you all to read..
Eventually I decided to just set
Paper and crayons
On fire while surrounded by
Those three dead bees my mother killed
With my chancleta earlier...
**** was brutal because she was
Yelling while killing them...
And I remember that I couldn't help
But laugh at her and her distraught!
I imagined her as a ******* vocalist for my band..
I think she'd suit a straight-edge band though..
Maybe some Christcore..
But she hates my music and we've grown apart.

But just as I was sitting here melting
And burning stuff, and writing stuff amongst the dead,
I was sitting with them, the bees,
For those past few days when they were alive..
I even took pictures and videos..  
I can imagine myself saying "I didn't want them to die"
Because perhaps I didn't want them to die.

"Go **** them! Death to bees! Take this broom! It's on the net!"
But I didn't do it.

I once sat here on my balcony
Around this particular time and
Wrote a similar poem..

I once, but in intervals, did twice
The movement of a single brisk breeze
For double the time of a considerable
Moment amongst the living.
It was deafening.

The clouds are blocking the stars so
I guess poking holes in my paper
And holding it up to the lamppost
Will have to do.