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The nervous stench of desperation I feel it approaching, crawling, wreaking of sweat and spent nights between the sheets turned towards the wall it is not about finding someone it is about the waiting... the glorified simplicity of "singledom" is overrated, and should be thrown out the nearest window duck for cover, you smiling snake I have no time for you I am too busy falling in love with everyone I meet

Throw me together Cut the cake of my insides "Divvy" me out and lick the icing from your fingers I remember when love wasn't a game it was as heartfelt as the blues in September But now I call it long gone and watch it from a distance, in the shadows and the corners watch the face: I might need it for future love endeavors I decrease and decrease and decrease and if you want me: knock, don't call so I can feel your smooth fingers on the door and savor the sound like it was the last I will ever hear

This is the truth: Nonsense bordering on chaotic and the capitals overtaking the lowercase the break is only for tap water and the mirrors reflect another one's image the door is never used only passed through, an occurrence of dirt and glass about the underpass like fire eyes burn in the street while the bodies continue on one course the hands flail, searching for God in the air or instead, play God, as the sun sets and as I stand with you we sigh alone

I have learned that it is all about being heard One gaping mouth that can overtake another in the form of a voice (Some spit can't hurt) I remind us of little baby birds Waiting to be fed whatever will come there way We once ate body parts, our own but this is the real deal maybe you will see me one day, not as a human being, but as a pulsing idea, not a bomb, but a voice, threatening to destroy those bounds we call "life"

Life is fickle but we can always imagine as we float through this expanse on the backs of great dreams (star-cloud machines and rhymes) house of you and me and sons and daughters all follow us slowly we trudge with plastic fingers and toy antlers that break and become lost on the sides of the streets But I hope for better when we will not hold hands but instead like minds until then I reach with outstretched fingers clinging at a safe distance

here only one direction exists: other, marked on a faded black dotted line like the line school children wait on for pictures a scrawl they tell me, was like mine little bits of line to feed their waiting eyes and loops and the color blue as accompaniment but it is only a secret scent! I keep on all the while, writing smaller and smaller and crumpling the change in my pocket like paper "it is only a joke" they say but I still can't capitalize the first letter crown it as the champion or victor or yesterday "Yes," that's what I'd tell them, "Why have today when we still have yesterday" But they only peeled their moldy fingers Wait

A wall of snow faces the crowd Lonely, stranded, with dripping fingers and open mouths little boys sit and play with the holes in the snow While their mothers and fathers stare at a blank wall of pacifist precipitation "Forgive it..... it doesn't know what it does." But the wall stares and drips all the more, with hard eyes and a greedy grin and the holes of a man that has no home dim teeth and feet stabbed into the ground the children stare and grasp hands in childlike disapproval the moment ends all to soon lonely and staring at the gloom in a heat filled room of 14 years

Remember the shade of gray we inhabited a judge from your iron throne I could call you a king but it was the fake glance in the way of the door But you sat at the table and watched the steam float from the fake mug sitting in your hand But a king wasn't enough For all the fake smiles that floated through your eyes And the kingly duties ignored in favor of brighter things So you headed for the door Until we saw the sun

.rain. Golgotha Snowy ears noisy heart words melt like butter, slip from my head to my mouth: regurgitate yesterdays novels forgotten thoughts a noisy smile chilly heart . coming down snow field of light thefallfeelsheavyinmyhands as i trudge off with a grudge settle down in a house made of men . I gaze in the window at a man so untouched by a loving hand his heart is a graven, folded page whisper whisper the child is awake sell made in a distant bay a bed of bones where he lays . snow, cold, way home, 5 ticks to spare life life heart beckons me to sleep .life cold death mouth not ready to speak a savour sits tigh