Hope is a man who
calls me crazy
with laughter in
his eyes and
a shake of his head.

It’s someone who
explains his passions
with joy because
he wants to share
that part of his brain.

It’s the soul that
catches the light
and reminds me
of the sun
on a cloudy day.

It’s the person who
turns tears into
laughter with gentle
words and a smile
like summer sunshowers.

Hope is the man who
I want to plan
stories with and
parties for while
sitting hand in hand.

I see your lines.
I read between 'em.
Look in your eyes
And I want to drown myself
In the depths of your soul.
So close, I feel, to this dream of love.
I want to wrap it around me.
I want to wrap my arm around your waist.
Could I talk you into a moment?

I feel you against me
As we begin our sacroiliac dance.
We move to a rhythm of a slow song.
I want you to nuzzle my collar
As I feel the slink of your silky slip against my bare chest.
I want to let my breath
Be felt against your ear
As I whisper your name.
Could I talk you into a moment?

I pass my time
Reading all your loving lines.
I think you may be writing back to me.
The possibility that this is real
Is enough to make me shake with excitement.
I want to hold you forever,
Or maybe we just have this day.
It gets confusing sometimes.
I become disambiguated
With every line I read.
Could you love me, too?
As much as every morning's new?
Could I talk you into a moment?

My eyes are closed.
I am daring to dream of you,
And all the things we'd say and do.
Write to me another poem
And post it on my page.
Every time I read the love,
I can't help but hope
This is more than a flirtatious game.
I'm like a nervous schoolboy,
I'm giddy all over again.
I'm hoping one day
To show you that I'm a man
Who really loves you.
Could you love me, too?
As much as the sky is blue?
Could I talk you into a moment?

This is another set of poems i wrote that I have been trying to turn into a song. It's composed loosely, for that's the way I write - kind of from the center out, and I don't like to rework my words too much because I find that it alters the original intended feeling, so please forgive the grammarical errors and call it creative liscense.

I've been a fool,
I've been a fool, it's true
Now I live without you
Without you by my side
I can't go on
I don't want to go on without you

If at night you hear the wind is moaning
Your lonely soul is groaning
Think back, you'll find
I'm on your mind
There was a time when you were mine

Everytime the phone rings and there's a hang-up on the line
If you search for what is lost it's me you'll find
At the end of the mystery...

Though I'm a poor man,
And I'm tired
I'll never tire of loving you.

If you're alone and you can't stop crying,
cry,
cry for me, too.
I'll weep for you.
There was a time when you were mine.

Footnote: This was writen about obssession a long time ago, but now I think it's more about the subject just THINKING he was obssessed. And no, it's not about me but, in my writing I have always been able to empathize with various points of view.

You wouldn't welsh on a bet with your ******,
And you wouldn't go to bed with the mob.
You wouldn't mess with a street gang ****,
No matter if he's crab, or slob.

You wouldn't backstab a man on death row,
Cause you know he just might **** ya.
If you've got the gumption.
You wouldn't have it long,
If you cross Evil Nurse Sheila.

You shouldn't be like the fool who tried
To play games with her heart.
She left him a crushed, empty man.
Well, he was doomed from the start.

Sheila isn't a ******,
And you'd better not let her hear
You snickering about her at the social club.
You might not have time to fear.

Sheila's makes the headlines
Each time she tries to settle down.
She plans to live a carefree life,
But soon she has to leave town.

Everything she does
Is warped, but in the name of love.
Except when she hates your guts,
When it's Sheila you've run afoul of.

If you've never heard her story.
You'd best take this advise.
If you cross her path just keep walking,
You best not look back twice.

Evil Nurse Sheila's got a heart of stone
That looks like a heart of gold.
If you are responsible for it's tarnish,
There's no hope to which you can hold.

Sheila takes no prisoners.
She don't take any guff.
If she thinks to give you a warning,
You'd better not call her bluff.

You wouldn't want to rouse her wrath,
Because her fury won't be tamed.
She's restless, bold and beautiful.
She cannot be contained.

It seems things have been quiet.
She's been off the grid some time.
If she thinks that you might suspect her,
You may be her next crime.

Look at me with wide open eyes.
Know that I am not as I appear.
I never did mind the darkness,
Even though it frightens me so.

Sometimes, I fool even myself
Into thinking that I search for answers.           
                                             ­      
The truth is something more
Than I ever will display.

SATOR
AREPO
TENET
OPERA
ROTAS

And I awaken.

I speak for him,
I speak though him.

It does not matter the reason.

Never, never will I leave.

There was a crystal chalice
From which I used to drink.
There was a set of pricipals
On which I used to think.

And once the door is opened
The words begin to flow.
I am his brother, partner, lover.

I am the summate of his fears.

I am the solvant of his tears.

Sometimes all you have is yourself.

Sometimes all he has is me.

I make the decisions,
And take the actions
That are too difficult for him.

There are times I haved saved his life,
But I should never be mistaken for what I am not.

My venom is toxic.