little devil I see you there
standing on the open fire,
pitch fork in hand, marsh
mellows cooking doing well,
devilish snack .

little devil dancing on the
bones of wood, skulls of burnt
pine cones burnt to black.
crushing them under foot I
hear them snap.

Flakes of flame dance in the
air, as the little one plays with
the flame dancing caressing
around him. Like it is alive and
knows who stands before it
flames engulf the air.

Shades change from orange
to red to white hot and back,
I look and the flame smiles back.
was I dreaming or was it that
skunk I smoked, wow I'm so going
to have quit that. ****** and fire
don't mix as take one last puff and
the fire consumes it smiling back..

Bones.
Homes.
Hearts.
Minds.
All of these,
Must someday break.

i. in my dream, you ask me to connect your freckles with my 19 coloured pens. i create the constellations reflected in your eyes. you kiss me. i wake up.

ii. you ask me to play the bars of the same song that made us both cry and shiver on different continents before we knew each other. i leave the airport the happiest and the saddest i've ever been. happysad.

iii. you sing at 3 am at the back of the bus. i sit at the end of the same row. my head hurts from banging against the window while i try to look at the moon, instead of you.

iv. we sit on the tram and pretend to fix all your problems.

v. i sit up at 2 am and cry at my mistakes. i wonder if i make you the happysad you make me.

I lay my head to sleep
and ask the murmurs from the deep
that if I die before I wake,
I pray the world will learn to take
a look at what most think is gold
and what the foolish strive to hold...


With hope a soul can turn away
and drop the leash leading astray...
To those who need a helping hand, if you don't mind, I'll try to stand
and break the chain, shatter the glass,
just find me where the sand meets grass.

Anger doesn't begin to describe this
I'm beyond disappointed
Bewildered at your ability to hold an act for so long.
You lied and lied and lied
And lied some ******* more.
Well congratulations, you're the fake of the century.
And I'm ******* hurt.

sure*, i wanted to be yours,
but, really, more than anything,
i wanted to be mine.

i looked at your picture
so often
that i could no longer
recognize you.

*(maybe i had been looking too closely)

“Here, have a drink,” A man slurred.
A tall, red, plastic cup of heavy smelling alcohol hovered in front of me, like a moth around the flickering flame of a candle.
The cup laughed in my face and dared me to grab it; the peer pressure pouring off of the drunk’s lips was like a buzzing fly that wouldn’t leave me alone.
“No thanks,” I told him.
“C’mon, it’s just one drink.”
I sighed, because I’d been down this road before.
Because just one drink can’t hurt anything, right?
It’s just one.
One that allows a drunken ******* who otherwise has no control over women besides offering ‘just one drink.’
But the flashback that started playing inside my head was a movie screen that felt like a drive-in film where everyone was welcome to watch.
Except they couldn’t.
These drunken “friends” on the TV inside my head who I’d been with a few months ago had wandered off with their own boyfriends, leaving me
Stranded and vulnerable, like a car on the side of the highway without any flashing hazard lights warning other drivers that I was parked there.
They abandoned me.
And who knows how long I would have been stranded until a car decided to pull over and approach my vehicle, tow straps to carry me away.
But he didn’t save me from the other passing cars. Instead, he hauled me around a sharp curve of the long stretch of road,
Left me as a wide open target for his own truck to smash into me, leaving me broken and battered, with no witnesses to call the police, an ambulance or a fire truck.
I was left all alone, bleeding and scarred in the dark curve of the highway where this drunken driver escaped without a single bruise or tear on his body, unlike my own.
“It’s just one drink.” The intoxicated stranger pried at me again, feeling his question burn into me like a red light that just wouldn’t turn green.
“No,” I said and turned away from the drunk.
It was the first time I said no to the smell of dark liquor and whatever was hiding beneath and dissolved into the liquid that was harbored in the tall, red cup.
I said no to being victim again to a ******* drug.

it seems so foolish to write about you