my skin is grey and wilting
trying to hold on
im slipping

Do you ever wonder why
there is a severely short supply
of truly nice guys?

I can’t believe
that you are surprised,
how you cry
about the jerks that
cheat and lie.

There was a gentleman,
a considerate human being,
who was genuinely caring,

but he learned his lesson well,
stopped daydreaming
and caring,
stopped despairing,
stopped showing up
to hear about your bad luck
with the dumb ****
dump truck
of abuse,
that you kept defending
and running back to.

The young one
who had so many
loved ones
run from
him
straight into the arms
of dangerous men
has taken all his
romantic notions and trust
and departed
with an angry and broken heart.

That is where the nice guys
have all gone.

She is a small brush fire,
a lifetime set ablaze
reddening skin
melting and swirling
in outrageous agony
as she contorts herself
to accommodate everyone.

Unsettled and unpredictable
constantly turning
the tables on herself,
one minute she is
dancing in a tapestry
of manic happiness,
then in the next
she is obsessed
existing in a heightened state  
of anxiety and sadness.

The bright lights illuminate
brilliant displays
of personal pain
that explode on the stage
as she reads her
tragic truths
in poetic verse.

So, she plays with
more matches
spreading the flame
by sharing her pain
till everyone else
burns the same.

It’s all a lie. I work the words, speaking spastically in humorous verbs, and **** jokes. Strangers smile, and tender sweet laughter, which I love. So, I keep pushing the boundaries, working weird thoughts. They laugh more, which is what I work for.

Later when they are not looking, I look at them. I try to keep it less creepy than the other stalker type men, but I am studying them; Learning the limits of my understanding, sussing out the rhythms in which they speak and think. I try to devour their truths but hope they don’t see me struggling to see them.

I observe the hallway world. There is a man a foot shorter than me with a very wide waist, slightly longer white hair that gently curls at each end with small bald spot in the back, and the face of a cherub. Hands in his pocket he barely looks up but gives me a slight grin when I acknowledge him. Then his eyes return to the ground three steps ahead. He speaks softly and walks slowly. I know he is hiding something deep, but I do not try to see too far behind the surface, to the grander mind because people don’t appreciate that kind of trespassing. I wonder if his shyness is a product of years of rejection, abuse, or merely a reflection of a truly introverted disposition.

I am in a hurry, dropping off books at an out of town library, and picking up some poetry to devour later. She must be new, because she moves slowly. Then attempts to engage me in social pleasantries. I am trying not to pay any attention, and she is not super desperate, but she wants to speak and be heard. So, I really look at her.
Lengthy strands of brown thinning hair fall down her long skinny face, slightly obscuring a small growth under the left side of her cheek. Thin rim glasses look at me, as she talks about what she likes to read. Then shifts the discussion to the walking dead. She is passionate and despite my previous urge to escape, I am now sincerely engaged.
The gym is loud with ****** music and clinking equipment. She is stunning; Long wavy hair released after a hard workout. She is tanned, and thin but muscular, with a soft and generous voice. I ask her about her boys, and old man. She always appreciates that. We keep the chit chat short, so we can workout and get on with the day.

I stare back at a familiar but silent face, there is a building rage ready erupt, something deep and dark that is waiting to self-destruct. I do not like this person much. Dark hazel eyes pressure me, to seek something deep, short dark brown hair recedes but at a barely perceptibly rate. Teeth seem to be shrinking extremely slowly, except for the lost and already rotting ones. His body is losing fat. He is improving, but **** that. He should work harder.
I have little patience and compassion for this dumb doppelganger, but I still observe seeking something deeper, the darker unheard truths. I stare at him and snarl.

      “I like them much more then you.”

There is darkness
and major melancholia;
She is trembling,
a tiny lady
dry skin
chapping,
flesh cracking
and losing blood.

In those
open spaces
merely moments pass,
but those cracks
grow and expose
more of her soul.

Dark dandelions
and crimson roses
explode from the holes.
Tiny ruptures
fill with the rapture
of delightful smells,
as she takes
all of her hells
and makes art,
as she sculpts
each heartbreak
into a grand sculpture.

There is no noting
some grand healing
or great transformative power
in her transubstantiation
of pain into beauty,
merely art.

I ran on the roads,
hot black top
making me melt in
my cloths
that were soaked from
so much sweating.

Heated frustration
edging me on
while my body built up
lots of
stinging lactic acid.

Breath beating me,
as I gasped eagerly
to quench
my thirst
for oxygen.

I ran rough
heading fast up
the high wooden steps
to work myself
to death
with weights.

Wondering why
I pushed so hard,
I hit the yard
hurting myself
with the back
of the executioner’s axe.

Why did I strive?

All I can think is,
stubborn pride
and rage
moved me.

The metal moves faster,
as he pushes the pedal down,
innocent urges shift from
first to second;
Moments of magic speed
with piercing wind
which he breathed in
almost syncing them
to his racing heartbeat.
The engine roars,
as he implores
time to take him
farther away from
everyone.
A sharp turn
turns him over
and as his car leaves the ground
he thinks
I am free.

The train chugs
along
moving at an
average pace
away from the place
he longs to escape.
Not as fast as the car
but this time
he gets much farther,
and enjoys the
tranquility
of seeing each city
slide by the side
and out of view
as he stares out
the train window.
  
The sea
opens up
as the boat
pushes forth into
a whole unknown
watery world,
as he moves farther
and farther
away from home
seeking
the freedom
of the unfamiliar.

Wings move him
away from the earth
and toward the heavens,
but it is never far enough away
for him to find
the freedom
he seeks.

Gravity is released,
as he looks
at a world below
with no
borders,
or countries
and though
he knows
he will have to go back
he turns around
to see the
bluish black
expanse
with white diamonds
that beckon him
to his freedom.

Years of pain
spent in a bed
as his frame
withers away,
followed by
a failing mind,
until the last day
when he finally finds
the freedom
he has been chasing
all his life.

The bright white headlights
pierced the quiet night sky,
catching the hazel eyed
strange passerby,

the unsuspecting figure
who was crossing the road
by the beautiful pathway
that lay straight next to
a perfect beach view.

There, solid metal struck
with an unsettling thud,
the fleshy form
of that adolescent.

As expected
when metal meets
meaty flesh,
that young man flew
if just for a second or two,
then tripped over the side rail
and fell.

The driver accelerated
moving quickly away
not wanting to face
the consequences
of this crash,

while further down
on wet and sandy ground
a human being
struggled to move
in hopes of being seen,
and saved.

Each breath agony,
persisting only in the hopes of living,
but never found salvation’s answer.

when those we have elected tell us blatant lies
     and call them “alternative facts”
we should not wait too long to call them liars
make them aware that we don’t share
their newspeak fantasies and visions
     removed from everyday reality

nor do we treasure their maneuvers
     that keep the media all hyped up
reporting every tweet as if it were
     one of the ten commandments
     Moses once held up in stone

while
     unmentioned
behind quite secret White House doors
the leader’s relatives and cronies
    incompetent but greedy
are nominated for positions of whose duties
    they do not really have a clue

a friend of oil & coal & fracking
supposedly protects our environment

an ignorant billionairess
     who never really saw a public school
is now in charge of education

a business man with heavy ties to Russia
is asked to steer our foreign policy

a judge well known for his quite racist bias
is thought to fit into the supreme court

and many of the Wall Street’s alligators
     whose swamps the current leader
     has kept promising to drain
     all through his great campaign
are happily assembled ‘round the trough
of power  influence  and money

facts quite ‘alternative’ indeed
     from those that had been promised
          for over more than a whole year
by that self-styled
‘candidate against the establishment’
     with not so secret Russian ties

simply unbelievable

you sense it grow
and rather would not
look at it too closely,
prefer that it remain
just vaguely powerful

until one day it crystallizes
into a sphere
   perfectly polished, brilliant,
but hard to bear alone

you start the search
for one who would be willing
and of worth to share
with you
what weighs you down
while it elates you,
   desperately,
at times

you learn that there are few
whom you would gladly have
   alleviate your burden
many just want to share
   the tiny part
you´d rather keep yourself

others already bear their lot
and, willing though,
could only join you
for a while

love can be a hard thing
in its time