What you are offering me is lovely, smooth and rounded in all the right places. That is why it can never be. Those shiny curves make me want to chip them; to pock them – use my sharpest tools to mar and maim. Your ease…

I thought love was in the heat of the day, The story mismatched my love, I gave to you, My love, love, you’re losing me in the deep end, Where did you go? Where did we meet?

The boy, the one with the stained eyes, Drew the shutters and held me tight, The stained air of change, He ravaged me, how villainous, he was, To my heart.

A pyramid of light has fought it’s way through the muddy depths of the curtains To claim a prime location amongst the shadowy cityscape on the wall Like a Japanese advert in Tokyo Projected onto towerblocks cast from wardrobes, doors and candles It will fall…

Sometimes you need to stop and see if it’s worth it crying over something that just won’t work, why give it all your time and devotion, if in the end you are still invisible… It’s better to regroup and find yourself This road it’s pure…

Like, o.m.g. why are they creepin’ behind me? I know I’m all that and totally amazing. But these stalkers are really just crazy!   It was just one night, that gave them such delight. I can’t help it if they want my body, this perfection…

Green plastic lawn chairs on an iron-railed black-rolled roof converted to a balcony, green tennis courts diagrammed with white, chain-link fences radiating heat, concrete columns and lush, tenuous vines, two stone lions in repose, diagonally woven brick sidewalks brimming with tough green and I pay respects to sudden…

In the coldness of Winter, it is hard to see warmth. The trees look like boney fingers, starved from the vitamins they so graciously accept. The trees reach their branches as high as they can, still skimming through fog. The cold air cracks the trees…

I keep reminding myself that I am a good man. Mistakes were made. I made. Do not define me. Lesson I learned have made me. The better man. A better man. Who I have become. Is No who I was.

Forget-Me-Nots When is the best time to remember? I remember the walks, where dad would remember his old track and field and cross-country days, Hannah and dad walking parallel, me in the back. There’s a syllable of summer in the air, speaking clear through the…