I’d always less than half a sense;
To my detriment, often doubling-down,
Ordering the same sorts of poison –
Warm beer, cold women, back alley-ed eyes
And other late night snacks simmered atop the oil
Salvaged the streets come previously devoured.
Bottled and poured, again and consecutively through me,
An anomaly now evolves average;
Cured only an alchemy wrought, "baijiu," (rice wine),
Crowd summed solitude’s paradox and hazy Chinese moons.

So when in Rome, do as the Romans do
And die as Romans die;
A slighter justification for what’d later trumpet –
Salivation’s sip, salvation’s second,
A tickle atop tongue, sour in stomach
And cancerous come the lesser years,
Deep, nether and beyond the once upon a time barren,
So I plead for seconds and corral but only
Three revelations in the expanses exhumed:

One – I want to die. Two – Tastes beat the years.
And three – The world’s a wonderful meal;
Home to another and common denominator,
The shared variable, viable and pliable,
Our simple ingestion, communal,
So that I may venture a path paved prior
And yet parallel something nearly precious – truly alive.
Either way, it’d satiated but one achy throb
And prevented me from washing the dishes;
A fair trade for someone who’d always assumed early ends.

In good nature
or a manipulative experiment,
I continued to devour
your last leftovers
from boxes signed
in your name,
as average roommates do,
cluttering the sink
with such vile remains
under murky waters, stagnant
from congested plumbing,
all in hopes to one day
hear your voice.

If you want me
to do the dishes,
you need to leave
your heart
beside the sink.

We stand at the edge of the parking lot
my child like hands wrapped tightly around your first ******* with your thumb resting on my hand
Like a promise that couldn't ever be broken
A promise that you would always wear a cape
So you could rescue me from all of my demons
But step by step
Your cape became tattered
your grip began to loosen
I keep trying to hold on tighter reaching for your other *******
that have never seemed so far away
until now
The promises you once held in the palm of you hands
freely  handing them out as if they were breathe mints
begin to lose power
The mint begins to fade just like the gum from a quarter machine looses its flavor just moments after touching your tongue
but I try to hold on to each one
hoping that someday the flavor will comeback
hoping that the thread in your cape will be sewn back together with miracles from angels above
I hang on tighter
Calling each night
just to remind you of how much I adore you
using all of the chewed up gum ***** to hold on to your fingers together
Repeating all of the promises in my mind
Screaming "Some day"
But your hair has begun to turn grey
and wrinkles have begun to crawl across your face
your hands begin to become fragile
but I refuse to let go
Empty promises stack on the shelf
like ***** dishes in the sink
as if reminders of what it used be like at the edge of the parking lot
When I held your first *******
your thumb resting on my hand
and you wore a cape

i killed a gnat on my shirt today
and now he sits there dead
next to a hole
which is starting to look
more and more
like his twin brother.
both black spots reminding me
of the ***** dishes and laundry
and the difference between dogs
in the city and country.