It has been said tears excel as makeshift
facials
How understandably then my skin is raw

    --I haven’t cried this much in years

She loved me I knew, but that was difference
between us.
I was totally and completely in love with her.
I had fallen into an oblivion of skewed rationality in
her midst,
and she would never cease to catch my breath in
my throat,
or fill my lungs with her radiated serenity.
I fell deep into a pool of which she
would only see the lilies of the surface,
but it would never ripple for her.
And so, I had to let her go.
If there ever was a poisoned reason in this life,
it would be falling madly in love.
And I would rather breathe that poison
every second of every day of every year
just to see her floating in ecstasy with someone
else
than to be wading wrongly in love with me.
She would never love me as I her.
She would never lose balance in my kiss,
or become drunk off my scent like I did hers.
She would never stand in a hurricane
just for a chance to hear my voice calling in the wind,
And she would never fall into a tragic romance with me.
She loved me, I knew,
But that’s where the power of words come in.
She loved me, but I was in love with her.

    --An attempt to write romance:
       from my high school years

Growing up,
my mother always said
that life isn’t always fair.
I’ve come to realize
that this is only one of the
many lessons that I will take
away from my mother

    --But it should be

Walking in tap shoes on tile floors is an
excellent metaphor for life
if you’ve never attempted then you’re
unaware how thrilling and absolutely
freeing tap shoes can make you feel
suddenly your entire body is an instrument
the world is your audience
you don’t need rhythm
those who know nothing about the art
will still be enthralled by the sounds
coming from your feet
But when you walk on tiles you have to be careful
one wrong move
one miniscule shift in balance and you’ll be on the
floor accompanied by the lovely sound of metal
scarping polished tile akin to nails on a chalkboard.
On tiles you walk with care
Slipping so easily
But those sounds
The beautiful clicks as you walk
They radiate so much more power than
stilettoes on a quiet church floor.
Next time it rains listen to the drops dancing on the roof.
They perform for you.

    --They still sit in my closet

I had to take a CPR class last september.
and my instructor told us we learn this
to save lives because everyone has a reason
for living
going around the table he asked us why
we were alive
family
friends
people that anchor us to the world
all the answers you would expect
for someone who was asked why they were still
alive
but when he asked me I told him I didn't have reason
how was I supposed to say that mine is spite?

When you died I did not tell anybody
I carried on my life as though you were never in it
I did not cry for you
With no visitation your funeral was short,
but I still didn’t find the need to have
anyone there but me.
You were not buried
That didn’t seem to suit your personality,
A swimmer, free, should never be held
down by the harrowing weight of dirt.
A cremation seemed unsuitable too. You
were so frail in death no ash would be left
behind.
I flushed you in my porcelain bowl
One last final swim

    --Sir Cinderbrick Linroy the Third

When I find a word I do not know the
Meaning of
I run it over the ever-changing terrain of
my mouth
repeat it with its jagged motions and soft
slopes until it becomes meaningless and
familiar on its roller costar ride of my
tongue
The supervisor releases its safety bar at
my teeth and the word slowly makes his
way out of the vehicle with wobbling legs
over my lips
I hum in pleasure
A new word is a new mystery
A dessert waiting for its purpose of sweet
indulgence to be discovered beneath that
picture perfect guise
My mouth is a fork scooping it up into my
vocal chords making itself known to my
body in a burst of flavor I have never
known before.
And I am in awe of how the linguist like
chefs craft such masterpieces.
When I find a new word I grab a can of
spray paint and graffiti the closest brick
wall in my mind with its shape.
How incredible it is to bring such beauty
to a blank canvas
I learned cursive in the third grade
And I am thankful that these human
hands have the ability to scribe new
vocabulary in more form than one.
To see its beauty in a different font.

    --I failed out of college as an English Major