thus far two guilty pleas
two Trump insiders on house arrest
too many ******* lies too much Republican *******
it's coming down Donald
and though you were not a true
American, I question the birthright of every
alt-right bible thumping
prejudiced mother -******* white dude
who took my nation, stick a pin in your bubble
you are done prejudice is gonna be over, thank you Donald
for how this is gonna work out!

Oh, sweet slumbering queen
please do not scream
when you awake
to find me
watching you resting.

Know that I am always with you,
a lonely longing observer
silently following you,
admiring the red blush
of your dimpled cheeks
and black bubonic sores
that mark your descent
into that deathly sleep.
Let me part your cold corpse lips
and steal a reapers rightful kiss.

You are a rapturous dream
of dreadfully dark dead things,
shadowy female figure falling
with a mime’s silent screams
as you plead in porcelain complexion
for a Lazarus like resurrection.

I will wait and watch
for your heart to stop.
Then pluck soft white orbs
from your ****** sockets.
I will take your long locks
of ***** blond hair
and put them right next to
the teeth I keep on the
corner shelf covered up over there.
I’ll remove each vital *****
in Egyptian style
and safely sequester them in
my sacred jars,
while keeping your slick
and sticky viscera
in a jar of honey scented formaldehyde;
Making all these pieces of you
parts of my permanent collection,
for only me to view.

Then my killer corpse bride
on our wedding night
I will join you
on the other side
in the bliss of oblivion.

When the last whole-hearted hero falls
True blooded poet warrior
Who challenged those
That turned cities and homes
Into barren bombed out wastelands,

When the wooden walkways
Are consumed
By the brush,

When the concrete
Cracks from nature’s ****** up,

When the canyons fades
Turning colorful shades
To white, black, and gray,

When the green hummingbirds
Cease the beatings
Of their supersonic wings,

When the tired panther
No longer sleeps
Or rises to drink
From a sweet summer spring
After hunting and eating
Some other wild thing,

When all things living
Start to decay
Then solar winds
wipe them away
In ultraviolet rays
Of destruction and disintegration,

When time forgets
That we ever existed.

In the photo, I can see
a metaphorical
version of me.

One leave
restrained,
chained to
a puddle of ice,
near the end
of its
brown
withering life;

Like it
I am chained to
a withering society
which is
holding me
in its cold grip.
Till, I taste
the wet tip
of death’s lips.

Imagine we are home
and not lonely, imagine
our love which once cut
through strange waters
like longboats through hearts
not slow and heavy
from the moss of fear
we are here and not here
nights in our land are sad
the risings of the moon
are like sores we have given
our women, and we cannot sleep
for what we dream
the enemy will do, like filling
our children's throats with rocks
and place them in shallow swamps
where they will rise up
to tell us of fish with odd shapes
and men with torches
coming in from the sea
up to the beach on a black night
throwing open the gates
to our dying city.

She is certain
she just wants
to be friends.
So, I shouldn’t
touch her skin,
give her all those
back rubbings
cause it is all
so confusing,
using oxytocin
like a **** addict
and it’s not like
I asked for it.
She just requests
I massage her feet
and I comply
obediently.

There is nothing like
the first time.

Mother to son,
when the violence is done
no blood on his cheeks.
No one hears him speak.
The fear makes him weak
afraid he may repeat
the same horrors
she did.

There is nothing like
the first time.

Rigid body,
cold flesh,
hand reaches
to its chest
to its mouth
to feel its breath
but nothing is there.

There is nothing like
the first time

Clumsy lovers
find each other
under the covers
laughing,
licking,
and in that moment
certain
that they are in love.

There is nothing like
the first time.

Which is always the last time,
you are past time,
past mind,
past breath,
last heartbeat,
first, and only death.

I wonder if
I’m an ill fit,
ill-equipped
action figure
who can’t figure
out this ****.

One day I’m
just too skinny
with too much hair,
but I’m working in
the opposite direction
so, I leave alone
with heartbroken
*******.

Years later
the pounds are
finally coming off
I’m finally feeling
a little hot,
but according to her
I still am not
good enough
to be her lover
or even be
her comfort ****.

I’m funny
and good enough
to be the gay best friend
but I am not
actually in to men.

I doesn’t matter
cause I never make it
to the Goldilocks
zone of love.
I’m either too big in the ****
or not confident enough.

It’s funny
cause no matter
how many times
I lose
I can always seem
to lose again,
parting ways
with the friends
who betray
the hopes that
they will stay,
but they
just ghost away.

Maybe this time
I will be the specter
who spirits himself
swiftly and safely away.