Painful stabbing of saccharine
Are not words that describe me
I hope you find love in the right places
Because this seems like a grasp of bitterness
Towards me
And it's not fair
I wouldn't want to leave you impaired
Only you can heal yourself
Let my ink dry onto the paper
Let me circulate a special girl's water vapor
Don't attempt to taper
My flavor
In the literary ice cream truck

Maybe, we were too caramelized.

Yes, that's right, too caramelized, too sweet, too cozy and warm, slowly oozing against the fire we were leaning on, feeding off of each others sugar, each others, well, sweet tooth.

There is a reason you mom tells you not to eat too much candy on Halloween or not to eat that last cookie in the jar, and it is because she knows how much you will want more. She knows how hard it is to stop once you have already gotten that sweet craving on your lips.

But, still you eat, and you indulge in these phantasmagoric forms of sugar... and even though she warned you, you are left sitting with you teeth rotten out with an ache like no other.

In the delicious dusk
We danced
Let the starless fantasies
Soak into our blighted fight.

The moonlight, delectable
Moonlight flitted in the trees
A filigree pattern reminiscent
Of the wrapping papers with which
I once covered the long days
And sad afternoons I spent alone.

You removed a thermos of
Lukewarm coffee from your heart, and in
That singularly solemn week
I fell in love.
Deliciously in
The sweetest love.

But it melted with
Sugar crystals
In the first bitter
Rains of October.

And the Halloween candy
Stashed behind my door
Was forgotten in the
Loneliness
A sense of isolation I couldn't shake
Not since I'd used
Every last inch of wallpaper
On you.

Now, I am not a huge man

I'm not large by any means

In fact it is surprising

I still wear normal jeans

My pants don't have elastics

I still use normal towels

But, my BMI stats tell me

I'm a word that has three vowels.

It started just this morning

When I got upon the scale

After getting back my numbers

I felt like a beached whale

Our scale is something special

Uplifitng messages it did send

Today when I stood on it

It said, is it you and your fat friend?

I thought this can't be right

I saw the numbers there

I've gained ten pounds since Christmas

But, I'm ****** if I know where

I thought that the old batteries

Just needed to be changed

But, the numbers were the same again

That **** scale is deranged

Most times I eat real healthy

No fried foods and lots of greens

But I keep on getting fatter

And I don't know what this means

I entered all my numbers

My height, and weight increase

And when my BMI was figured

It said "Son, you're obese"

Now, I do not ride a scooter

I wear an xl shirt

But seeing that word on the chart

Well, man....that really hurt

I watch shows on my tv

of people in bad shape

They weigh in at 600 pounds

And to them I am a grape.

My knees may hurt, my back is sore

But that's not from my weight

They hurt from my arthitis

Not from my  rotund state

Obese, to me is something

That I swore I'd never be

It's a tag that is real hurtful

And it is one I have to see

Each time I get upon the scale

And then go to the chart

It comes up as obese each time

It really breaks my heart

Now, exercise and I are friends

We met once in the past

But we always seem have a fight

And our friendship does not last

I've tried diets that do wonders

They make the pounds fall off

But after twenty pounds of loss or so

My body starts to scoff

It says "you know you're fooling no one"

"A skinny you's just fake"

"So, come on down off the treadmill"

"And let's go get some cake"

So exercise is not for me

There must be other ways

To lose the weight that I've put on

One I can do in days!

I'm looking for a short cut

To break me from my obese rut

So, I chose Liposuction

Where they stick a tube inside my gut

They said "you are a candidtate"

Like, there was choice that had been made

I knew I had to get the weight off

If I wanted to get laid

They took me in a little room

And had me lie down on the bed

Then they put a tag on my big toe

I said "...in case I wake up dead?"

They said it was to tell them what to do

I said I way 300 pounds,

So if I know, why don't you?

They drew some lines upon my gut

and down on to my thighs

I said don't touch nothing down there

It's exactly the right size

They told me that the lines were just

To show them where to ****

Again, I thought below my waist

And I thought "just my luck"

They said a hose would **** the fat

That my body had in store

I thought, that's only so

I can fill it up with more

They said that it would hurt some

And I'd be sore and bruised

Then they showed me a few pictures

Those people looked abused

I siad, no thanks, I'm outa here

I'm gonna lose it right

I didn't put it on that quick

And I won't lose it overnight

I'll change the food I'm eating

And I'll go and walk a bit

I'll use the stairs a little more

And this time I won't quit

But, as I thought of liposuction

And that really neat machine

To own something that ***** like that

Would be so ****** keen!

Now, I'm working on my weight loss

And folks, here is the scoop

I' dropped two pound this afternoon

I just had a good ****!

Just exercise some caution

If your scale says you're obese

For I'm in this fight beside you

And our weights will both decrease!

there is a certainty inside your eyes
that makes me want to buy a canvas
and just write every single detail
of happiness you brought for me
until the white paper becomes black
cause I spill all the ink on earth
about the way you kiss me every 5 mins
the way you lose control like a kid
the way you smell like sugar rush
the way your joke hurts my belly
and the way you are
perfectly
fits me

Carefree in leisure time, one blasé tourist,
almost happy, I once had collected a complicated stone;
after the sunny hours had ended and last opportunity
for keepsakes began.

In my hand the stone had kept all of its mouths sewn shut,
holding its amalgamated story, and likewise in the car,
on the plane, through US Customs where it was not
in the least suspected.

A thumbnail identity I now should guess at, marking an old date,
and fixing it to, with reasonable estimate, a map location:
Plot No. 243, East end of the island, slave sugar plantation,
the stone from the corner of a ruined sugarmill stair—
broken free by my criminal hand.

The stone like a bleached out mini-monolith,
square rectangular, could be stood on end;
was swollen at its center like a pulled cork.

What could have moved this sequestered world to opening?
That was not for me to exactly discover,
except what came on Christmas Day,
two days after my returning.

Slave watercourses, the sight of innumerable Dutch ships,
ballasted with human flesh and hewn rock
for sugar works buildings.

The drop at-arms-swish of the Driver’s bullwhip.
Flecks of spirit splayed on vegetation.

A mongrel dog barked beyond the windless wall of sugarcane
in centipede and mosquito heat.

Seaside, beautiful seaside impressions;
distant coral light shadows, etched deep azure;
snowy colored breakers that pencil-marked the sea.
The staid, vibrant, mocking power
of visual symphony backdrop.

So little of aid for the slaves, but for those dangerous secrets,
un-housed in the fallen coolness of the night:
demonstratively crystalline heaven of stars;
a ragged moon, clouds scudding eastward toward Africa.
And there -- Orion’s Belt, mid-sky, illustrious bright,
with its three centering star points in rational line,
as if Hope could have flung its anchor onto Life
engendering sanctified resistance.

Christmas morning, 5 a.m.
I had awakened from a stuck place, shapeless and dark,
half in dreaming and half knowing I was in no dream.

I was sobbing, yet strangely, because there were no tears.
I had only put the stone inside my pajama top onto my heart.