She's so cold.  So, so cold.  So ******* cold.  
He's afraid. So, so afraid. So ******* afraid of her.
She's his methamphetamine.  Shoot, drug, high.  So terribly comfortable.
He's withdrawn.  Sick, sober, low.  So horribly real.
A shiver down his spine.  Chills, fear, shock.  It will never end.
And she just lays in her box.  Her ******* box.  ******* black box.

If only they knew what I could do.
What I was worth.
Would they come running in droves, or would they cower in fear, as if unworthy?
I'm not after the party flake, nor the wholesale take.
I'm after the ones who don't exist.

i cant keep up with what i should have done yesterday.
there is no gold at the end of the rainbow.
just the tomorrow youve been waiting for.
im lazy and tired and broke and sad.
i should have fixed that yesterday
but tomorrow. i promise
i will eat better, excersise more
i will get to sleep before 11
i will save my money and stop buying things i dont need
i will quit smoking
i will give back to everybody who has given to me
i will let go of things i cant hold on to
i will be patient and kind
i will be happy with what i have
i will do everything i need to do
everything i should do, want to do, hope to do
tomorrow

tomorrow i will live like nothing is holding me down
i will forget old hurts and forgive the new ones
i will show the people i love that i really do love them
i will quit making the same mistakes
tomorrow
its too tough to do today
im too lazy and broke and tired and sad to do it
i should have fixed it yesterday
but ill wait till tomorrow

I lure
The many many men that cross my path
A creature of the sea
Not meant
To be tamed
But they continue
To follow my voice
As crystal clear
As a starry night sky
Smooth as the milky way
And beautiful
Like a rare orchid
Into my trap they sail
Their souls
Sent to the bottom of the ocean
Forever under my spell

While walking
Clusters of red dots
Appeared in front of my shoes
Diluted by pine needles and dirt
Until more drops broke through
Coming alive, they followed me
Nipping at my ankles
Craving sustenance from their lost body

Those splashes of life beaten out by savages
Splattered to die on the side walk
The thud of bloodied broken knuckles against newly exposed tissue and bone
Echoes through those forgotten red dots


Still crying without being heard
Spilled by the same species
Two hostile beings
Who fought senselessly out in the street
Have forgotten that both left the same life to die on concrete.

Calling the two blocks
of brick shantys
a “neighborhood”
is like calling Chris Columbus
an entrepreneur.

Columbus had three wooden pontoon boats
& a palace in the new world.
My students have Columbus’ outhouses.

I don’t even enjoy walking through
there anymore. It’s not a stroll in the park.

There’s only so much imperialistic **** you
can step in and wipe away
before you
start to track it in your
house.

lost in your eyes
blue like the skies

constantly
f
  a
     l
       l
         i
            n
               g
for you

You eyes are an inky oil painting,
when they leak
I miss that sinking feeling