You tied me up in this bed of yours,

your pile of books, your labyrinth

I tried to escape, but the rope only cuts in.

Deeper and deeper as my tears get sweeter and sweeter

I kissed you once on your lips

twice on your wounded soul

And you give me the carnal embrace.

So, it all turns out to be a loop

William Burroughs , Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac

Your a ****** for disorderness

God ******, anger, emotion.

But you just cover them up with Paris Hilton jokes

Forever on the road, always ready to go

Ginsberg as my birthday gift, T.S. Eliot as my memory.

My love,

I love you for being pure, pure like a breath of fresh air in a sizzling day

I love you for being innocent, innocent like a baby just born

I love your grandeur ,stands like a tree yet speaks like silk

I love your wisdom,witted and cheerful.

I love your halo, shining with thy glow.

I can’t imagine the days without you, my muse and my bread

Farewell, Farewell.

I don’t really love them,

They are tools to hide myself from maturity

Today I split them aside

Now there’s a brand new me

Facing you with more sensuality

More biting fingers

and more contemplating

I feel like I could be everything,

your almost-married partner

The angel in the house

Or sweetheart from college.

I looked at you with my misty eyes

Blurry minds and lingering thoughts.

Words don’t get through

They’re just syllables.

Poems are means to get to you

They serve as the path to eternity

I rue not to speak up again and again.

Blaming myself for things I haven’t done.

Sean, crystal blue

Sean, misty hue

Sean, delicate dew

Sean, eternal muse

fragrant than frankincense

assuaging than myrrh

Dearer than gold.

Mr.Strickland reminds me of you.
If I were Blanche, I would do what she did too.
Like a sophisticated beast
Howling in the territory of yours
So primitive and so civilized.
In a cocoon weaved of solitude
Poor Blanche throws herself in the abyss
Swoon over your charm,
But you are lured by the Moon.