He once held a foe
and painted his nose
but he dies there
a notorious speaker
with his fortuity in croquet
quashed at the brink there it square rather
and this polarity is left behind
where Agamemnon knew his anomic basket
with revenue shortfall miss credited country.

loneliness consumed you
while you were busy finding distractions
your eyes sunk deeper, your nights darker
you found a marker and wrote it out in black ink, you left half a cup of tea by the sink,
one final reminder that you could never clean up right, your scars were not quite healing
men came and went like hopscotch manic feelings, daily warfare, gentle as a tide though
you would let them in just to let them go
crafted a plan to **** yourself
because you didn't know anything else
but the bottom of a bottle you swore you didn't drink you spent 11 months sleeping on the brink of death
loneliness consumed you
you took the bad parts, shaped them into something you could swallow and fell in love with the high from your insides eating you alive now you're full of sculptures you gave up on years ago and maps of places, far away, where you'll never get to go
because you're bed ridden and tired, you're only 20 and you did it, you have carved yourself entirely empty

November night so cold it shook our bones
Our friends out in the grass, singing new age songs
You kept talking about the stars;
I couldn’t stop staring at your eyes.
Who needs lights when the moon was so bright,
Even the insects felt something in the air that night.
In the light, it’s funny how far it seemed
When you sat by me on the couch
We watched a movie that made you laugh,
But all i could think was how close you were to me.
I was left behind to clear my mind,
I had no space for dreams
How could i dream when the only thing running through my head
Was your laugh, the grass, and the stars?
Now November ends but my heart was left in it,
my heart, your laugh, and the stars.

The intensive care unit of a library
is straight down the hallway. The
hallway is connected to the Limited
Editions cabinet. The cabinet covers
the window partially. The Limited
Editions section is also referred as
the Limited Light cabinet.

What a writer is doing in the intensive care unit:

Squeezing ink out of a culture-tube.
Containing the pulse of a page.
Salvaging the last drops of ink.

Metaphor to explain that the pen of the writer
is running out of ink:

He needs to run out to save the blood of another
story.

Rhetoric to explain something as simple as the redundant fact that the writer is writing in a library:

Refilling the page with the cadence of life
and all the lives he’ll live through this chapter

Antithesis and paradoxes to enrich the narrative in
whose the writer runs out of ink (still):

Reflecting on the beauty of the discomfort.
To live you must accept to come to an end.

The following is just a series of allegorical ways in which
a lady justifies what by now has become voyeurism:

I agonize reading the line that ties your eyes together
in perfect symmetry

Your eyes are parallel to
the pages you are holding.

pulled\apart\and\back\together\get it

I install myself
into your city
that template
where I hold
my book
I see you
the words
go blurry

Every guy
holding a book
ever
o
Lord
someone
save me

I got to thinking about how you never think about me,
not once in eleven months or during our anniversary week,
does it make me weak to wonder where we'd be by now?
My throat would still ache from yelling and you'd still be down about how you're stuck in the city with no way out,
but it's funny how fast a year went by and that I still wonder if I cross your mind
when I know I don't,
I just can't accept that I was never more than a lesson to you,
one you never internalized.

I got sick of comparing you to drugs
that did no justice to the high I felt each time you held me
and juxtaposing ,
you to a sunset was *******
I feared I could not capture all your colors in words
what the **** do I compare you to?
You swallowed me whole and let me crumble in front of you,
you digested me until you were sick and spit me out like dip,
I got sick of comparing you to songs,
I didn't want you stuck in my head anymore
and juxtaposing you to shattered glass didn't pick up the pieces on the floor from when I could not articulate the hurt in my heart and
threw all the ******* picture frames against the plaster wall,
I got sick of comparing you to a missed phone call,
because at least then you'd give me enough attention to ignore it,
juxtaposing you to the sunset was ******* because you never stuck around long enough to really sink in
,****

For seconds at a time
Our reality, is eternity
and our moments entwine

i don't even know it
cause I try not to show it
but you dealing with lover slash poet
start speaking in tongues and you wont even know it
then your body start reacting, to what I am saying like i own it
your actions speaking louder than words your body show it
I got what you need
cause I'm the main component
you thirsty, then lets feed
our lust is potnent