i sit across her
on the round table

i see her delicate hands
twirling on the spoon
on this ethereal summer noon
when she looks incredibly pretty
beneath the cobwebbed ceiling
amid the Doppler noise of the city
her eyes on the coffee
and mine on her.

Soft thoughts
Melting down my face
I'm a disgrace
Head filled with
Haze as fine as lace
Where is this place?
On long nights I trace
Your two lonely eyes
And quivering lips, me
Hello, me, I am you
You trace my quivering eyes
And lonely lips
On long dark evenings
Where blankets trap you
To the asylum of your midnight room
Black so thoughts light up,
My soft thoughts running

   down

Ignorant; not a care in the world (~)

Holy socks drag on cracked sidewalks
She had a pink shirt,

Or what seemed like it was once pink
She wore a smile & talked to her friend
I never saw him, but I’m sure he’s nice
I swear, her jeans never came with holes,
She’s too young to sport that fashion
Her face was the moon, not the cheesy one,
but pale & distant
Her hair, matted and knotty like dad’s unused
twine ball sitting in his toolbox
Did she have a brother?
Where was he?
I’m sure that unclothed Barbie in her hand needed a Ken

                                                (~)

Recline­d with their hands dangling over ashtrays,
where the only entity in their mind calling for their attention
is a liver-punching depressant.
Where eyes open for another hit,
and close to the cries of their children
Tonka trucks make snow angels in ash covered carpets,
Walls inhale secondhand sadness; stained with the tears of neglect,
Unmade beds and unfolded clothes shower their unpaid apartment,
Eviction notices pinned to the fridge with
crayon drawings of “daddy”,
Her request for another beer echoes the empty room
& it crosses her mind

“where the **** is she?”

my eyes don't bat
with your heels on my back
i keep a straight face
when blades take ribs' place
walk over and on
i've heard a similar song

Look at the Sun so bright and beautiful
Trying to mimic you
It stands no chance
your beauty can't be duplicated
It tries real hard with no avail
Not even close
It seems the sun can only frown
Because it will never be as beautiful as you

WHAT AM I?

What am I?
No more than a moment of time
Suspended between the now and the future-
With the past clinging to my back
To which I could never return.

What am I?
The tiniest and frailest of leaves
On the slender bough of life
Soon to be blown away by a sudden storm-
Buried among fallen petals and flowers.

What am I?
An unknown and unheard voice
In a faraway corner of nature I have chosen
Surrounded by quiet meadows and smiling flowers
Where the incessant sound of song-birds
Hushes my small voice and consoles my heart.

What am I?
A single note on the score
Of a grand symphony-
A speck, a comma in the limitless expanse
Of time and destiny.

What am I?
Only this my heart truly knows-
It is in the dying of myself unto love
That transcends all-
To be eternal in that blissful state
Untouched neither by time nor human sorrows.