i saw horrible things, my dear horribly wasted innocent babies

your stomach would turn eyes would bleed and hearts would swell

we live in a beautiful world choose your glances carefully

shrivelled grass and skin blow in the wind like torn pages

life is but a dream, they say tortured by bandits & penniless drifters

neon markets and cannibals’ songs whispers carried softly upon stale breath Â

Some day your voice will mature, having lived many more years. Having shed many more tears.
You will know more about yourself. You will have earned the right to have something to say.
When the days of testosterone madness and crazed manic proclamations have evaporated.
Perhaps a small book could be squeezed from your veins.
There’s a reason why God gave the elderly less energy. Wisdom doesn’t run after every hair-brained scheme. Less foolishness requires less energy.
Sit and ponder awhile. Stop, rest from your doing and just be be who you are. No tinsel. No gawdy things to make you feel special.
Sit in silence and know your God.
Having done this – awkwardly at first – then, IF you truly commit, you will be ready to write.

i wish i could spoil you. cook you simple meals as best i can. see your teary smile as i propose cry my own tears as you hold our firstborn. i wait and anticipate the day you’ll be mine. every happy couple, every loving mother, every expression of love reminds me of you… of my hope for you. it is true that i hurt you. it is true that i do not deserve forgiveness. it is true that my actions display a wholly different sentiment. somewhere deep within, in the immeasurable soul and spirit, i long for you. i do not long for the cheap gratification of physical desire but, rather, for the realization of a reality i have already only glimpsed. it is a reality beyond my ability. i do not strive toward it, for i know failure lies waiting. instead, i wait. hoping, asking, dreaming, aching for the day to arrive… …when what i was made for, to melt into you, becomes the day my destiny is fulfilled.


if the end is the beginning why am i strewn out across your open palms? why am i lost in your sea? you capture me, and i am lost forever. i run to and fro, only to find the time has been wasted and kept us apart. don’t ask why. don’t ever wonder again. the opened eye tells all. we were meant to be together.


i do not take this cigarette and place it against my lips for no reason i’ve seen the sterile coffee shops restaurants and office buildings i’ve felt the suffocating cleanliness of a bright and cheery world this realm of “clarity” and activity brims with over-anxious sympathies artificial lights with nothing to penetrate it is the life that is a lie feigning decency deploring the darker shade of life i do not accept this smoke into my lungs except to maintain to preserve a sense of self not yet commercialized nor sold to the highest bidder to protect myself from the rays the drowning silence of nonsense to make it through the day participation is suicide it is the death of conviction, hope, and dream i do not want to be a quitter and surrender the one shield i have between self and senselessness.